Twelve Sharp

  There are three tiny bedrooms and the bathroom on the second floor of my parents' house. At the crack of dawn my mother gets up and is the first in the bathroom. She's quiet and efficient, taking a shower, putting on her face, neatening up after herself. After my mother it's a battle between my grandmother and my father. They rush at the bathroom and the first one there elbows in and slams and locks the door. Whoever is left on the outside starts yelling.

  'For crissake, what are you doing in there?' my father will yell. 'You've been in there for days. I need to take a crap. I need to go to work. It's not like I sit around watching television all day.'

  'Blow it out your you-know-what,' my grandmother will fire back.

  So it's not like I ever have to worry about oversleeping at my parents' house. Toilets are flushing, people are yelling and stomping around. And morning kitchen smells work their way upstairs. Coffee brewing, sweet rolls in the oven, bacon frying.

  My room hasn't changed much since I moved out. My sister and her kids took the room over while she was regrouping after her divorce, but they're in their own house now, and the room has reestablished itself. Same floral quilted bedspread, same white ruffled curtains, same pictures on the walls, same chenille bathrobe hanging in the closet, same small chest of drawers that I left behind when I went off on my own. I sleep like a rock in the room. It feels safe… even when it isn't.

  By the time I got down to the kitchen my father had already left. He's retired from the post office and drives a cab part-time. He has a few regulars that need rides in the morning, to work or the train station, but mostly he picks his cronies up and takes them to the lodge to play cards. And then he stays and plays cards too.

  My grandmother was in the kitchen, hooked up to my mothers iPod. 'Before you break my heart… think it oh oh ver,' she sang, eyes closed, bony arms in the air, shuffling around in her white tennies.

  'She tells me she's got a gig,' my mother said. 'Just exactly what's going on?'

  'Sally has a new band, and they have a bunch of jobs playing for seniors. He thought Grandma was an appropriate edition.'

  'Sweet Jesus!' And my mother made the sign of the cross.

  I poured out some coffee and added milk. 'It might not be so bad. They get done early because everyone in the audience gets medicated and falls asleep. And no one can sing, so Grandma will fit right in.'

  My mother watched Grandma gyrating and flailing her arms. 'She looks ridiculous!'

  I got a cinnamon roll and took it to the table with my coffee. 'Maybe she just needs a costume.'

  Grandma paused while there was a song change on the iPod, and then she started skipping and strutting around the kitchen. 'I can't get no satisfaction!' she yelled. 'No, no, no!'

  'Actually, she looks a lot like Jagger,' my mother said.

  Ranger's cell phone rang, and I opened the connection. 'Yeah?'

  'Your friend Scrog called early this morning. I have him on the machine. I want you to come over and listen to this.'

  'I knew it was a mistake to get an answering machine.'

  'The mistake was to leave last night. If you'd been here this morning you could have talked to him.'

  'Omigod, what the heck would I say?'

  'You could keep him on long enough for a trace,' Ranger said.

  'My line is bugged?'

  'Of course it's bugged.'

  I looked at my watch. It was almost nine. 'Is it okay if I stop at the office first?'

  'As long as you're here by noon. I want you to change your recording.'

  'I have to go to work,' I said to my mother.

  'Its Thursday,' my mother said. 'And I know you usually come for dinner on Friday, but Valerie and the girls and Albert are coming tomorrow. Would you and Joseph rather come for dinner tonight?'

  'Probably. I'll have to ask him.'

  I walked into the bonds office and noticed that for the first time in almost two weeks the inner sanctum door was cracked open. I threw my shoulder bag on the couch and gave Connie raised eyebrows.

  'He's back,' she said.

  I heard rustling in the inner office, the sort of sound rats make running through leaves, and Vinnie opened the door wide and stuck his head out.

  'Hah,' Vinnie said to me. 'Decided to show up for work?'

  'You got a problem?' I asked him.

  'I'm drowning in FTAs. What the hell do you do all day?'

  Vinnie is a cousin on my father's side of the family, and it's not a comfortable thought that he swam out of the Plum gene pool. He's slim and boneless with slicked-back hair and pointy-toed shoes and Mediterranean coloring. The thought of him married and reproducing sends chills through me. Still, in spite of his shortcomings as a human being, or maybe because of them, Vinnie is a pretty good bail bondsman. Vinnie is an excellent judge of sleaze.

  'You're writing too much bond,' I told him.

  'I need the money. Lucille wants a new house. She says the one we have now is too small. She wants one with a home theater. What the fuck is that, anyway?'

  Meri was watching from her card table. 'Maybe I could start going out with Stephanie and Lula,' she said. 'I wouldn't be any help in the beginning but maybe eventually I could pick up some of the easier skips.'

  'Maybe eventually,' Lula said.

  'Not eventually,' Vinnie said. 'Now! Get out there now. I'm hemorrhaging money, for crissake. Lucille's gonna kill me.'

  Connie, Lula, and I knew who would kill him, and it wouldn't be Lucille. It would be Lucille's father, Harry the Hammer. Harry didn't like when Lucille was disappointed.

  'How did the nursing home go last night?' I asked Lula.

  'We had to quit early. The feathers gave two people an asthma attack. I'm going out on my lunchtime to get us new outfits. We have a big job coming up Sunday night at the Brothers of the Loyal Sons, and we're calling an emergency practice so Grandma can learn the moves. We're doing a dress rehearsal and everything.'

  A floral delivery van double-parked in front of the office and a guy got out and carted a vase of flowers into the office. 'Is there a Stephanie Plum here?'

  'Uh-oh,' Lula said. 'Morelli must have done something wrong.'

  I took the vase and put it on Connie's desk and read the card. TIL DEATH DO US PART. NOT LONG NOW.

  'What the heck?' Lula said.

  'One of my many secret admirers,' I said. 'Probably some serial killer who just broke out of prison.'

  'Yeah,' Lula said. 'I bet that's it. Those serial killers are known for being romantic.'

  'Did we get any new skips in?' I asked Connie.

  'None this morning. The one high-end bond we still have out is Lonnie Johnson. I'd really like it if you could get a line on him.'

  The front door banged open, and Joyce Barnhardt stalked in. She was still in black leather, wearing the stiletto-heeled black leather boots and the skin-tight, low-slung black leather pants and black leather bustier with her boobs squishing out the top. Her red hair was teased, her long artificial nails were polished and sharpened, her glossy red lips looked about to explode.

  'I've got it! I've got the death certificate,' she said. She let the paper float down onto Connie's desk and she turned her attention to Meri. 'Who's this?'

  'New BEA,' Connie said.

  'You look like a cop,' Joyce said to Meri. 'Did you used to be a cop?'

  'No,' Meri said. 'But my father was a cop.'

  Joyce turned back to Connie. 'I want my money. This is as good as a body receipt, right?'

  Connie wrote Joyce a check, and Joyce tucked the check into the pocket on her black leather pants.

  'Aren't those pants hot?' Meri asked Joyce.

  'Gotta look the part,' Joyce said. 'And nothing says bounty hunter like black leather. Toodles, ladies, I've got a date with a bad guy.'

  'Maybe that's my problem,' Lula said when Joyce left the office. 'I don't look like a bounty hunter. But hell, I'd sweat like a pig in those pants.'

  'I have things to do,' I told everyone. 'I just wanted to ch
eck in. I'll be back in an hour or so, and then we should go after Charles Chin.'

  Lula walked me to my car. 'It was the Ranger nut who sent you those flowers, wasn't it?' she asked.

  'Yes. And he left a message on my phone this morning.'

  'And what about the funeral home? We left out the back door, but Meri said she was there, and you fainted, and then they locked all the doors and let people out one at a time. They were checking for the Ranger nut, weren't they?'

  'He got behind me in the lobby somehow. We had a short conversation, and then he stun-gunned me.'

  'You saw him?'

  'Yes. It's strange. For a second, when you first see this guy you think Ranger. But then when you actually look at him you know it's not Ranger. And apparently he doesn't look like Ranger from the back or the side. Morelli and Tank weren't that far from me and didn't pick him out.'

  'You be careful,' Lula said. 'You sure you want to go off on your own? I could ride with you.'

  'Thanks, but I've got RangeMan surveillance. I'll be okay.'

  Lula went back into the office; I locked myself into the Mini and called Morelli on my own cell phone.

  'How's it going?' I asked him.

  'Bob misses you.'

  'I bet. What's on your dance card for today?'

  'I'm doing a follow-up on a gang slaying. Between the feds and RangeMan and the maverick bounty hunters, there are so many people working the Carmen Manoso murder I get lost in the crowd.'

  'The maverick bounty hunters are a problem. They're clutter.'

  'Rangerman is working to get rid of them,' Morelli said, 'but they're like lemmings. You push a bunch off a cliff, and there are twice as many behind them.'

  'I got a call from an old boyfriend this morning. I wasn't home when he called, so he left a message on the machine. And then he sent flowers to the office.'

  'You're not going out with him, are you?'

  'I don't have any plans at the moment. If I change my mind you'll be the first to know.'

  'Appreciate that,' Morelli said.

  'Everyone at the office thought the flowers were from you. Figured you'd done something bad.'

  'What about you? Did you think they were from me?'

  'No. You don't send makeup flowers. You send makeup pizza and beer.'

  Ranger was at the dining room table, watching the computer screen. 'Last night Tank noticed there were security cameras in the funeral home. Common practice to lower insurance rates. The cameras aren't monitored, they're just there to record in case a negligence claim is filed. We thought there was a chance Scrog got caught on video, so we got the cards out of the cameras last night and have been going over them.'

  'Does Dave know you have these cards?'

  'Dave looked tired. We didn't want to disturb Dave.'

  'I'm surprised you didn't have to wrestle the FBI for camera access.'

  'They have to follow procedure. And they don't have the specialists I have.'

  'Cat burglars?'

  'The best in the business, not behind bars. We copied the cards, and the originals are already back in the cameras. We want the FBI to have access to this.' Ranger pulled a frame up and started the video rolling. 'Here's our man. He comes in from the side and moves directly behind you the instant you enter the lobby. Tank is on the wrong side to see him. Morelli is behind two women who are partially blocking his view. And when Morelli can see Scrog, this is what he gets…' Ranger did a stop frame and isolated the man behind me. 'Scrog is shorter and slimmer and is partially bald at the crown. The skin tone looks similar, but the overall appearance is very different. And he's not in black. Hard to tell from the camera angle exactly what he's wearing, but he's not dressed in SWAT clothes.'

  Ranger wasn't in black either. Ranger was in jeans and a washed-out, loose-fitting grey sleeveless Big Dog T-shirt. He looked comfortable in the clothes and relaxed in my apartment. His hair was growing out, curling around his ears and falling across his forehead. It was a younger, softer look for him, and it was disconcerting. I didn't know this Ranger.

  'Who are you?' I asked him.

  'I'm always the same person,' he said. 'Don't judge me by my clothes.'

  He hit play on the video, and I watched Scrog approach me. Scrog and I had a brief conversation, I grabbed his sleeve and opened my mouth, and in the next instant I went down and Scrog moved off and was lost in the swell of people.

  'This is helpful,' I said. 'We know what he looks like from the back.'

  Ranger paused the video and pushed his chair back. 'Come into the kitchen, and I'll play the message back for you.'

  'It was great seeing you last night,' Scrog said. 'I probably shouldn't have taken a chance like that, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to get close to you. I know the police are looking for me. They don't understand why I had to rescue Julie from those people. That's okay. I'm used to being misunderstood and underestimated. Soon I'll be able to rescue you, and then we'll all be together forever. Sorry I had to stun you last night, but you were getting too excited. You would have given us away.'

  I instinctively moved closer to Ranger. 'Listening to him makes my stomach cramp.'

  'So far he's textbook. Cautious at first and becoming increasingly bold… and careless. I want you to record a new greeting giving callers your cell phone. I don't want you to miss another opportunity to talk to him.'

  'He sent flowers to the office. The card read, 'Til death do us part. Not long now.'

  'We saw the delivery and already checked it out. He phoned it in and paid for it with a stolen credit card. You have to give this guy credit. He's got skills.'

  I recorded a greeting on the answering machine and gave my cell number.

  'I should get back to work,' I told Ranger. 'Vinnie is in the office today, and he's on a mission to clean up the FTAs.'

  'Keep in touch. And make sure you're always wearing the panic button,' Ranger said. 'And make sure it's hidden. If you get to talk to Scrog, I want you to push him. Tell him you like when he dresses in black bounty hunter clothes. Tell him they're sexy. Ask him if he's working, hunting anyone down. Let's try to get him out of his hiding place so he might get recognized. And ask about Julie. Tell him you're anxious to see Julie. Try to get to talk to her. Tell him you think he's lying to you, that he doesn't really have her. Now that he's made contact with you, things should move faster.'

  'Okey dokey,' I said.

  Ranger hung my bag on my shoulder and looked at me. 'Are you okay with all this?'

  'Actually, I feel like throwing up a lot.'

  'It's the doughnuts.'

  'It's my life.'

  Stephanie Plum 12 - Twelve Sharp

  Eighteen

  Lula wasn't looking happy. 'Meri got a line on Lonnie Johnson,' she said. 'Personally, I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than go after Lonnie Johnson. I have a real bad feeling about Lonnie Johnson.'

  I took the file from Meri. 'What have you got?'

  'You told me to check on him once in a while so I ran his credit and got a hit. He applied for a car loan two days ago and gave an address.'

  I looked at the credit report and sucked in some air. Stark Street. Just about the worst possible address. Stark Street made Johnson's last address look like high rent.

  'Were you able to do any phone verification?' I asked Meri.

  'No landline given. He gave a cell, but I didn't know if you wanted me to call it. I checked the by-street address and there was no phone listed.'

  'Probably a rooming house at that end of Stark,' Lula said. 'Either that or a cardboard box on the sidewalk.'

  'What kind of car did he get?' I asked Meri.

  'I don't know.'

  'Find out. And then get the temporary plate number.'

  'Boy, you're smart,' Lula said to me. 'I would never have thought to look for the car.'

  Mostly I was a big chicken. I was on the same page as Lula. I didn't want to go after Lonnie Johnson. He was a scary guy, and I wasn't exactly at the top of my game. I wa
s too distracted by Edward Scrog. It was now the eighth day for Julie Martine. Nine days that she was away from her mom. Eight days that she was held captive by a psychotic killer.

  I noticed Lula looking at her phone. 'Expecting a call?' I asked her.

  'Yeah, a certain big guy works all the time. I've been getting a lot of phone calls, but I'm not getting any action.'