Sizzling Sixteen

  “Babe?”

  I stepped away from his chair. “I was reading the screen. Let’s see what you can pull up on Blutto.”

  Ranger had state-of-the-art computer programs that left most people with virtually no secrets. He could get medical records, credit histories, shoe size, litigation, you name it.

  Ranger plugged Gregor Bluttovich into one of the programs and information scrolled up.

  “Fifty-two years old,” Ranger said. “Born in Varna, Bulgaria. Came to this country in ’92. He has four ex-wives and is currently unmarried. He has seven kids distributed among his ex-wives. The oldest is thirty-four. The youngest is six. He was a police officer in Varna for fifteen years. No work history after that. He owns property in Newark and Bucks County. I know the Newark area. It has a large Russian immigrant population. The Bucks County property is in Taylorsville. He’s affiliated with three other holding companies. He had a double bypass two years ago. He was charged with assault with a deadly weapon last year, but the charges were dropped.”

  “What was the weapon?”

  “A chain saw. He cut a guy’s leg off. He claimed it was an accident.”

  “This is not a nice man.”

  “I have a couple contacts in Newark. See if you can find some crackers and cheese in the kitchen, and I’ll make some phone calls.”

  I went to the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine. I found some brie and something else that was creamy and herby. I’m sure all bought by his housekeeper, Ella. I put the two cheese wedges on a cutting board with water crackers, apple slices, and fresh strawberries and brought them in to Ranger, along with the bottle of wine and our glasses. I set everything on Ranger’s desk, and I spread brie on a cracker for myself.

  Ranger took his headset off. “This is nice.”

  “I take no responsibility. Ella had everything prepared.”

  Ranger sliced off some mystery cheese and ate it with an apple slice. No empty-calories cracker for Ranger. Ranger was into health.

  “I talked to two people in Newark,” Ranger said. “The opinion of both is that Gregor Bluttovich is dangerous. Bulgarian mobster. Nicknamed Blutto. Large ego. Terrible temper. Probably criminally insane. Both contacts used the word psycho to describe Bluttovich. He has a mid-size operation, and he’s overextended. Word on the street is that he’s eliminating squeamish business partners.”

  “Like Wellington?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where would Vinnie fit in this?”

  “Bluttovich owns Wellington. So Vinnie scammed Bluttovich. And it’s not healthy to scam Bluttovich.”

  “How not healthy?”

  “As not healthy as you can get.”

  “Dead?”

  “Very dead,” Ranger said.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Have another glass of wine.”

  “And then?”

  Ranger’s eyes locked onto mine.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk,” I said to Ranger.

  “Not drunk,” Ranger said. “Just relaxed and naked.”

  I was distracted by an icon blinking on his computer screen.

  “Why is the little flame flashing?” I asked him.

  “I’m hard-wired to the control room. One of our systems just sent in a fire alert.”

  He tapped a key and an address appeared.

  “Hamilton Avenue,” I said. “Omigod, that’s the bonds office!”

  Ranger put his headset on and talked to the control room, verifying the fire. He took his headset off, swiveled away from his desk, and stood.

  “I suppose this is the end of our romantic moment,” I said to him.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll have a lot more opportunities for romantic moments.”

  He closed the space between us and kissed me. Our tongues touched, and I pressed against him.

  “It’s only a fire,” I whispered.

  He paused for a beat. “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,” he said. And he stripped my white stretchy shirt off. He kissed me again, and when he broke from the kiss, my eyes inadvertently strayed to the computer screen. “Babe?”

  “I can’t help it. All those blinking things on your computer are distracting.”

  He reached over, hit a key, and the screen went black.

  “I know they’re there,” I said.

  Ranger tugged my shirt back over my head and smoothed it down. “I’m good and I’m motivated, but I know enough not to try to please a woman who’s distracted.” He kissed me lightly on the lips and pointed me toward the kitchen. “You owe me.”

  I grabbed my purse and black cardigan, and Ranger buckled his gun belt back on. We rode the elevator to the garage and took my Mercedes SUV, with Ranger driving.

  “This car smells like fried chicken,” Ranger said. “And something else that isn’t good.”

  “Connie’s stink bomb,” I told him.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  RANGER TURNED ONTO Hamilton, and I could see the glow from the fire. My breath caught in my chest and my eyes filled with tears.

  “Call Connie and Lula and Vinnie and make sure they’re okay,” Ranger said.

  I dialed Connie first. She answered on the second ring, and I breathed a little easier. I told her about the fire, and told her to stay home until I got back in touch. I called Lula next. She was home as well. I called my apartment twice before Vinnie picked up.

  “I didn’t know if I was supposed to answer your phone,” Vinnie said.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. The bonds office is on fire.”

  “Crap!” Vinnie said. “I’ll be right there.”

  “No! I just got here with Ranger. We’ll handle it. I don’t want you to leave the apartment.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s bad. I’ll call you back when I know more.”

  Ranger parked a block away, and it was difficult to see much of anything other than billowing smoke and flames shooting into the black sky. The street was clogged with fire trucks, EMTs, and police cars. Men shouted instructions. They were already getting water to the fire, but the closer we got, the more it became apparent that nothing was going to be saved. There was a series of small explosions and everyone pulled back.

  “Ammo,” Ranger said.

  Thank goodness we had the yard sale, I thought. The ammo that was left was minimal. And the dynamite had all gotten cleared out. The explosions stopped and the firefighters moved closer. They were concentrating on containment and minimizing the damage to adjoining properties.

  “This is out of control,” Ranger said. “We’re going to have to do something about Bluttovich.”

  “Like what?”

  “Short-term, we need to encourage him to forget Vinnie. Long-term, we need to neutralize him. Provide law enforcement with a reason to put Bluttovich away for a very long time.”

  Ranger’s attention shifted off me. I turned to see what caught his eye and spotted Morelli walking toward us.

  “There’s no need for you to stay to the end here,” Ranger said. “Let Morelli follow you home, just in case Blutto’s watching. I’ll stay to talk to the fire marshall.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” I said.

  “It’s my job,” Ranger said. “Rangeman manages security on the bonds office.”

  Morelli ambled over. He nodded to Ranger as Ranger walked off to find the fire marshall, and he gave me a tight smile. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

  “Yes,” I said. “The fire trucks were already here when I arrived.”

  “That’s a relief,” Morelli said. “I was half afraid you and Lula started the fire.” He looked around. “It wasn’t Lula, was it?”

  “No,” I said. “I checked.”

  Morelli looked me over. “That’s your viewing uniform.”

  “Yes, and the heels are killing me. I’m ready to go home. Would you mind following me? Ranger thinks I need an escort.”

  I DE
TOURED AROUND the fire, and twenty minutes later, I rolled into my apartment parking lot with Morelli on my bumper. We got out of our cars, and Morelli walked me into the building.

  I took my shoes off and pushed the elevator button.

  “Probably, I should walk you all the way to your door,” Morelli said. “Maybe I should even go inside and check under your bed for monsters.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Vinnie was standing there wearing my panties.

  “Going up?” he asked.

  Morelli’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

  “I got locked out,” Vinnie said. “I went downstairs to do my laundry, and when I got back to the apartment, the door was closed shut.”

  “Those are my panties,” I said.

  Vinnie looked down at himself. “I figured you wouldn’t want me running around naked. All my clothes are in the washer.”

  “And you decided panties were the way to go?” I asked.

  “It was the only thing that fit. They got elastic.”

  “Lucille kicked him out, and he didn’t have any place to stay,” I told Morelli.

  Morelli grinned at me. “I’ve seen you in those panties, and they look a lot better when you wear them.”

  “How’s the bonds office?” Vinnie wanted to know.

  “Burned to the ground,” I said.

  “Oh jeez!” Vinnie said. “Crap. Shit. Damn.” He punched the elevator wall and stamped his foot.

  “This isn’t a good picture,” Morelli said.

  “Yeah, and I don’t want the underwear back, either,” I said.

  “Maybe you should come home with me, and let Vinnie have the apartment to himself,” Morelli said.

  I bit into my lower lip. I left Vinnie alone in my apartment for a few hours, and he was wearing my panties when I came home. I got stomach cramps thinking about what might happen if I left him overnight.

  “That’s probably not a good idea,” I said to Morelli. “I can’t afford to throw away any more underwear.”

  “Understood. I hate to leave you, on a sinking ship, but I don’t know what more I can do here, unless you want me to arrest him for indecent exposure,” Morelli said. He grabbed me and kissed me, moved me back two steps into the elevator, and pushed the button for the second floor. “Let me know when he leaves. We can go shopping and replace the underwear with something really skimpy.”

  Vinnie and I got off at the second floor, and I let us into my apartment.

  “You can’t walk around like that,” I said to Vinnie. “You’re freaking me out.” I rummaged through my closet and came up with an old robe.

  “I saw that,” Vinnie said, “but I didn’t think I’d look good in it.”

  “Have you seen yourself in the panties? It’s why people go blind. Not only don’t they fit, but you’re all lumpy. It’s a hideous sight.”

  “Cripes,” Vinnie said. “Just tell me how you feel.”

  I held the robe out to him.

  Vinnie put the robe on and got a beer out of the fridge. “I bet that fire was arson.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Drager is going to be pissed. Has anybody called him? Do you think I should call?”

  I went dead still for a moment, thinking about Drager’s lifeless body lying on his office floor. And then the explosion that had to have obliterated not only all evidence of The Wellington Company, but also of Drager.

  “I imagine Rangeman will get in touch with Wellington,” I said. “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to call.”

  “I feel like an orphan,” Vinnie said. “I haven’t got Lucille, and I haven’t got my office. I haven’t even got my own underwear.”

  I know he made all his own problems, but I felt sorry for him anyway. “Get another beer and we’ll see if we can find a movie to watch.”

  By the time I went to bed, Vinnie had retrieved his clothes from the dryer downstairs and was out of my bathrobe. I put the robe in my hamper and told him he could keep the panties. I think he was pleased.

  AT NINE IN the morning, Lula, Connie, Vinnie, and I all showed up at the office as if it existed. The fire trucks, EMTs, and police cars were gone, but sooty water still pooled in the gutter. Three buildings were cordoned off with crime-scene tape. The bookstore on one side of the bonds office and the dry cleaner on the other side showed no structural damage. They were smoke-smudged and water-logged, but they were standing intact. The bonds office was a pile of charred rubble.

  “Ain’t this a bitch,” Lula said. “My couch is gone. Where am I gonna sit?”

  “The office can get rebuilt,” Connie said, “but we’ve lost years of files that we’ll never be able to replace. Phone numbers, addresses, open bonds. They’re all gone.”

  “Good riddance,” Vinnie said. “I was in debt up to my gonads. We can make a fresh start.”

  “Yeah,” Lula said. “We can buy a new couch. We could get one that vibrates.”

  “Reality check,” I said. “Burning down the office wasn’t a friendly gesture. Remember the three men who wanted to kidnap Vinnie but were willing to settle for me? They’re still out there. They probably burned down the office.”

  “Only two of them,” Lula said. “Larry got a bum knee.”

  “My favorite nail polish was in my desk drawer,” Connie said. “I’m going to have to buy new nail polish.”

  “This here’s real sad,” Lula said. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. Do I have a job?”

  “I’ll call The Wellington Company,” Connie said. “It’s Saturday, but there might be someone working. I’m sure they’ll just move the bonds business into a different location.”

  We all waited while Connie tapped the number in and listened for the connection.

  “It’s not a working number,” Connie said a minute later.

  “What’s with that?” Lula wanted to know.

  “It’s the only number I have for them,” Connie said. “I don’t have any cell numbers. Maybe we should go downtown and see if anyone’s working. If I was Drager, and one of my buildings burned down, I’d be at my desk this morning.”

  “I’ll drive,” I said.

  I knew Drager wasn’t going to be at his desk, but I didn’t want to share that information and have to explain my break-in with Ranger. If I drove everyone downtown, they’d see for themselves. Not to mention I had no idea what else to do. I felt like I was floating in space with no direction. Everyone packed into my SUV, and I took Hamilton to Broad.

  “You know what we should do?” Lula said. “We should open our own bail bonds agency. We could call it Big and Beautiful Bail Bonds.”

  “You need start-up money to do that,” Vinnie said. “You need money to rent an office. Security deposits. Advance money for the lease. We’d have to buy computers and software, file cabinets, staplers.”

  “We could get a loan,” Lula said. “Who’s got credit?”

  “Not me,” I said. “I’m a month behind on my rent. I can’t get a loan to buy a new car.”

  “Not me,” Vinnie said. “I don’t even have credit with my bookie.”

  “Hell,” Lula said. “That’s the understatement of the year. Your bookie wants to kill you.”

  “I could go to my family,” Connie said.

  We all declined on that one. If we took money from Connie’s family, we’d be owned by the Mob.

  “What about you?” Vinnie asked Lula.

  “I’m in collection,” Lula said. “I overextended a little. I’m worried someone’s gonna come repossess my shoes.”

  The Meagan Building was a block away, and my stomach was in a knot. I stopped for a light, and it was obvious traffic was slow ahead. Only one lane was open. The other was barricaded. The light changed, and I crept up to the Meagan Building. Yellow crime-scene tape blocked off the sidewalk. A fire truck and the fire marshall’s SUV was parked nearby. There was a lot of charred debris on the sidewalk in front of the building, and four guys in hard hats stood talking. They were standing in th
e road, looking up at the Meagan Building. The windows on the fifth floor were completely blown out. Black soot covered the exterior of the top floors, and the lower floors were grime-streaked.

  “What floor was The Wellington Company on?” Lula asked.

  “The fifth floor,” I told her.

  “Guess we know why they aren’t answering their phone,” Lula said.

  Connie looked out her window. “Someone was really busy last night.”

  “This is crazy,” Vinnie said. “Even the Mob knows enough not to blow up two businesses in one night. Who the heck’s doing this?”

  “I don’t know,” Lula said, “but I need chicken. I need doughnuts. I need one of them extra-greasy breakfast muffins with ham and eggs and shit.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  I STOPPED AT three different drive-through windows, and by the time we got back to the office, we were all feeling sick, not just from the freakish turn our lives had taken, but also from the food we’d managed to snarf down en route.

  “I don’t feel so good,” Lula said. “I think I must have got a bad egg. I need a Rolaid.”

  “You know what I need?” Vinnie said. “Lucille. I know this is stupid, but I miss Lucille. I never thought I’d say that. She was such a pain in the ass. How can you miss someone that’s a pain in the ass?”

  “My ex-husband was a pain in the ass,” Connie said, “and I don’t miss him at all.”

  “Ditto for me,” I said.

  My marriage lasted about fifteen minutes. I caught my ex-husband naked on my dining room table with Joyce Barnhardt riding him like she was in the Kentucky Derby going for the win.

  “Your problem is you’re a jerk,” Lula said to Vinnie. “You got all normal feelings. Like, you love Lucille. But you can’t help from being a jerk. I mean, what kind of a man has a romantic relationship with a duck?”

  “I don’t know,” Vinnie said. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “You see?” Lula said. “It’s always a good idea at the time. But you don’t connect the dots between the good idea and the bad ever after. You got no sense of consequences. I learned all about this in my deviant behavior class at the community college.”