Eleven on Top

  “I ordered roast beef subs,” Morelli said. “Hope that's okay.”

  I took a sub and unwrapped it and gave it to Bob. I handed a sub to Morelli, and I unwrapped the third for myself. We were in the living room, on the couch, as always. We ate, and we watched the news.

  “The news is always the same,” I said. “Death, destruction, blah, blah, blah. There should be a news station that only does happy news.”

  I collected the wrappers when we were done eating and carted them off to the kitchen. Morelli followed after me on his crutches.

  “Take your jacket off,” Morelli said. “I want to see the rest of the uniform.”

  “Later.”

  “Now.”

  “I was thinking I might go back to work just for a couple hours. I started a search and didn't get to finish it.”

  Morelli had me backed into a corner. “I don't think so. I have plans for tonight. Let's see the shirt.”

  “I don't want to hear any yelling.”

  “It's that bad?”

  It wasn't just the shirt. It was also the gun. Morelli was going to be unhappy that I was carrying. He knew I was a moron when it came to guns. I took the jacket off and twirled for him. “What do you think?”

  “I'm going to kill him. Don't worry. I'll make it look like an accident.”

  “He didn't pick out the shirt. His housekeeper picked out the shirt. She's short. It probably came to her knees.”

  “Who picked out the gun?”

  “Ranger picked out the gun.”

  “Is it loaded?”

  “I don't know. I didn't look.”

  “You aren't really going to keep working for him, are you? He's a nut. Plus half his workforce has graduated from Jersey Penal,” Morelli said. “And what about not wanting a dangerous job?”

  “The job isn't dangerous. It's boring. I sit at a computer all day.”

  I had Morelli up and dressed. I got him down the stairs and into the kitchen. I sat him at the table, put the coffee on, and left for a short walk with Bob. When I came back, Morelli was asleep with his head on the table. I put a mug of coffee in front of him, and he opened an eye.

  “You have to open both eyes,” I said. “You're going to work today. Laski's picking you up in five minutes.”

  “That gives me five minutes to sleep,” Morelli said.

  “No! Drink some coffee. Get some legal stimulants into your system.” I danced in front of him. “Look at me. I'm wearing a gun! And look at the short shirt. Are you going to let me go to work like this?”

  “Cupcake, I haven't got the energy to stop you. Anyway, maybe if you look slutty enough, Ranger will take up some of the slack in the bedroom before you make a permanent cripple out of me. Maybe you should wear that shirt with the neckline that lets your boobs hang out.” Morelli squinted at me.

  “Why aren't you tired?”

  “I don't know. I feel all energized. I always thought I couldn't keep up with you, but maybe you've just been slowing me down all these years.”

  “Stephanie, I'm begging you. Eat some doughnuts. I can't keep going like this.”

  I poured his coffee into a travel mug and got him to his feet. I shoved the crutches under his arms and pushed him to the front door. Laski was already at the curb. I helped Morelli hobble down the stairs and maneuver himself into the car. I threw his crutches onto the backseat and handed Morelli his mug of coffee.

  “Have a nice day,” I said. I gave him a kiss, closed the car door, and watched as Laski motored them away, down the street.

  There was a chill to the air, so I went back to the house, ran upstairs, and borrowed Morelli's leather biker jacket. I tied the Rangeman windbreaker around my waist, I gave Bob a hug, and I let myself out through the back door. I unlocked the shed and rolled the bike out, and a half hour later, I was at my desk.

  I went straight into the newspaper search. I limited the search to the last three months the men were at Dix. It seemed to me that was the most likely time frame for them to do something catastrophic. I began with a name search and came up empty. None of the men were mentioned in any of the local papers. My next search was front page. I was only reading headlines, but it was still a slow process.

  I stopped the Fort Dix search at nine-thirty and switched to Rangeman business, working my way through the security check requests. By noon I was questioning my ability to do the job long-term. The words were swimming on the screen, and I felt creaky from sitting. I went to the kitchen and poked at the sandwiches.

  Turkey , tuna, grilled vegetables, roast beef, chicken salad. I dialed Ranger on my cell phone.

  “Yo,” Ranger said. “Is there a problem?”

  “I don't like any of these sandwiches.”

  There was a moment of dead phone time before Ranger answered. “Go upstairs to my apartment. I think there's some peanut butter left from last time you stayed there.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I'm with an account. I'm inspecting a new system.”

  “Are you coming home for lunch?”

  “No,” Ranger said. “I won't be back until three. Are you still off sugar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe I can get back sooner.”

  “No rush,” I said. “I'm happy with peanut butter.”

  “I'm counting on that being a lie,” Ranger said.

  I let myself into Ranger's apartment and went straight to the kitchen. He still had the peanut butter in his fridge, and there was a loaf of bread on the granite countertop. I made myself a sandwich and washed it down with a beer. I was tempted to take a nap in Ranger's bed, but that felt too much like Goldilocks.

  I was on my way out when I got a call from Lula. “I got him trapped,” she yelled into the phone. “I got Willie Martin trapped in the deli at the corner of Twenty-fifth Street and Lowrnan Avenue . Only I'm gonna need help to bag him. If you're at Rangeman it's just around the corner.”

  “Are you sure you need my help?”

  “Hurry!”

  I took the elevator to the first floor and went out the front door. No point taking the bike. The deli was only a block away. I jogged to Lowman, and saw Lula standing in front of Fennick's Deli.

  “He's in there eating,” she said to me. “I just happened on him. I was going in for sandwiches for Connie and me and there he was. He's in the back where they have some tables.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “I don't think so. I got out right away.”

  “So what do you need me for?”

  “I thought you could be a diversion. You could go in there and get his attention, and then I'll sneak up and zap him with the stun gun.”

  “Didn't we already try that?”

  “Yeah, but we'd be better this time on account of we got some practice at it.”

  “Okay, but you'd better not screw up. If you screw up he's going to beat the crap out of me.”

  “Don't worry,” Lula said. “The third time's a charm. This is going to work. You'll see. You go on up to him, and I'll sneak around from the side and get him from the back.”

  “Have you tested the stun gun? Does it work?”

  We were standing next to a bus stop with a bench. Three elderly men were sitting on the bench. One was reading a paper, and the other two were zoned out, staring blankly into space. Lula reached out and pressed the stun gun to one of the men. He gave a twitch and slumped onto the man next to him.

  “Yep,” Lula said. “It works.”

  I was speechless. My mouth was open and my eyes were wide.

  “What?” Lula said.

  “You just zapped that poor old man.”

  “Its okay. I know him. That's Gimp Whiteside. He don't do nothing all day. Might as well help us hardworking bounty hunters. Anyway, he didn't feel any pain. He's just taking a snooze now.” Lula looked me over and grinned. “Look at you! You look like Rangeman Barbie. You got a gun and everything.”

  “Yeah, and I have to get back to work, so let's do this. I'm going to t
alk to Willie and see if I can get him to surrender. Give me your cuffs, and don't use the stun gun until I tell you to use it.”

  Lula handed her cuffs over to me. “You're taking some of the fun out of it, but I guess I could do it that way.”

  I walked straight back to Willie Martin. He was sitting alone at a small bistro table. He'd finished his sandwich, and he was picking at a few remaining fries. There was a second chair at his table. I slid the chair over next to him and sat down. “Remember me?” I asked him.

  Willie looked at me and laughed. It was a big openmouthed, mashed-up-french-fries-and-ketchup laugh that sounded like haw, haw, haw.

  “Yeah, I remember you,” he said. “You're the dumb white bitch who came with fat-ass Lula.”

  He dipped a french fry into a glob of ketchup with his right hand, and I clamped a cuff onto his left.

  He looked down at the cuff and grinned. “I already got a pair of these. You giving me another?”

  “I'm asking you nicely to return to the courthouse with me, so we can get you rescheduled.”

  “I don't think so.”

  “It's just a formality. We'll rebond you.”

  “Nope.”

  “I have a gun.”

  “You gonna use it?”

  “I might.”

  “I don't think so,” Willie said. “I'm unarmed. You shoot me, and you'll do more time than I will. That's assault with a deadly weapon.”

  “Okay, how about this. If you don't let me cuff your other hand, and you don't quietly walk out with me and get in Lula's car, we're going to send enough electricity through you to make you mess your pants. And that's going to be an embarrassing experience. It'll probably make the papers-pro ball all-star Willie Martin messed his pants in Fennick's Deli yesterday...”

  “I didn't mess my pants last time.”

  “Do you want to risk it? We'd be happy to give you a few volts.”

  “You swear you'll rebond me?”

  “I'll call Vinnie as soon as we get you into the car.”

  “Okay,” Willie said. “I'm gonna stand and put my hands behind my back. And we'll do this real quiet so nobody notices.”

  Lula was a short distance away with the stun gun in hand, her eyes glued to Willie. I stood, and Willie stood, and next thing I knew I was flying through the air. He'd moved so fast and scooped me up so effortlessly, I never saw it cming. He threw me about fifteen feet, and I crash-landed on a table of four. The table gave way and I was on the floor with the burgers and shakes and soup of the day. I was flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me, dazed for a moment, the world swirling around me. I rolled to my hands and knees and crawled over smashed food and dishes to get to my feet.

  Willie Martin was facedown on the floor just beyond the table debris. Lula was sitting on him, struggling with the second cuff. “Boy, you really know how to make a diversion,” Lula said. “I zapped him good. He's out like a light. Only I can't get his second hand to cooperate.”

  I limped over and held Martin's hand behind his back while she cuffed him.

  “Do you have shackles in the car?”

  “Yeah. Maybe you should go get them while I babysit here.”

  I took the key to the Firebird, got the shackles, and brought them back to Lla. We got the shackles on Martin, and a squad car pulled up outside the deli.

  It was my pal Carl Costanza and his partner, Big Dog. Costanza grinned when he saw me. “We got a call that two crazy fans were on Willie like white on rice.”

  “That would be Lula and me,” I said. “Except we're not fans. He's FTA.”

  “Looks like you're wearing lunch.”

  “Willie threw me into the table. And then he decided to take a nap.”

  “We'd appreciate it if you could help us drag his sorry ass out of here,” Lula said. “He weighs a ton.”

  Big Dog got Willie under the armpits, Carl took the feet, and we hauled Willie out of the deli and dumped him into the back of Lula's Firebird.

  “We need to do a property damage report,” Costanza said to me. “You're wearing Rangeman clothes. Are you hunting desperadoes for Vinnie or for Ranger?”

  “Vinnie.”

  “Works for me,” Costanza said. And they disappeared inside the deli.

  Lula and I looked over at the bench by the bus stop. Two of the three men were gone from the bench. The guy Lula stun-gunned was still there.

  “Looks like Gimp missed his bus,” Lula said. “Guess he didn't come around fast enough. Hey, Gimp,” she yelled. “You want a ride? Get your bony behind over here.”

  “You're a big softy,” I said.

  “Yeah, don't tell nobody.”

  I walked back to Rangeman and entered through the front door. “Don't say anything,” I told the guy at the desk. “I've just walked two blocks through town, and I've heard it all. And just in case you're wondering, those are noodles stuck in my hair, not worms.”

  I rode the elevator to the control room and had the full attention of everyone there as I crossed to my desk.

  “I got tired of turkey so I went out for lunch,” I told them.

  I retrieved the key fob I'd left on my desk, got back into the elevator, and rode to Ranger's floor. I knocked on his door and didn't get an answer, so I let myself in. I took my shoes off in the hall and left them on the marble floor. I didn't want to trash Ranger's apartment, and the shoes were coated with chocolate milkshake and some smushed cheeseburger. I padded into Rangers bathroom, locked the door, and dropped the rest of my clothes.

  I washed with his delicious shower gel and stood under the hot water until I was relaxed and no longer cared that just minutes before I'd had chicken noodle soup in my hair.

  I wrapped myself in Rangers luxuriously thick terrycloth robe, unlocked the door, and stepped into his bedroom. Ranger was stretched out on the bed, ankles crossed, arms behind his head. His was fully clothed, and he was obviously waiting for me.

  “I had a small mishap,” I said.

  “That's what they tell me. What happened?”

  “I was helping Lula snag Willie Martin at Fennick's and next thing I knew I was airborne. He threw me about fifteen feet, into a table full of food and people.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, but my sneakers are history. They're covered with chocolate milkshake.”

  Ranger crooked a finger at me. “Come here.”

  “No way.”

  “What about the jelly-doughnut hormones and the sex-drive hormones?”

  “Getting thrown across a room seems to have a calming effect on them.”

  “I could fix that,” Ranger said.

  I smiled at him. “There's no doubt in my mind, but I'd rather you didn't. I have a lot of things going on in my head right now, and you could make it a lot more confusing.”

  “That's promising,” Ranger said. He got off the bed and crossed the room. He grabbed me by the big shawl collar on the robe and pulled me to him. “I like when you wear my robe.”

  “Because I'm cute in it?”

  “No, because it's all you're wearing.”

  “You don't know that for sure,” I said. “I could have clothes under this.”

  “Is this another one of those things I should find out for myself?”

  I was skating on thin ice here. I had the jelly-doughnut hormone problem going on, and I didn't want it to get out of control. I'd spent a night with Ranger a while ago, and I knew what happened when he was encouraged. Ranger knew how to make a woman want him. Ranger was magic.

  “Let's take a look at my life,” I said to Ranger. “I keep rolling in garbage.”

  “Mind-boggling,” Ranger said.

  “And let's take a look at your life. You have a deep dark secret.”

  “Let it go,” Ranger said.

  “Are you sick?”

  “No, I'm not sick. Not physically, anyway. I'm not so sure sometimes about the mental, emotional, and sexual.”

  I locked myself in Ranger's dressing room and got dress
ed in the second Rangeman outfit. Short black T-shirt, black cargo pants, black socks. Ella hadn't provided underwear or shoes, so I sent my soda-and-ketchup-soaked underwear and my chocolate-shake-covered shoes off to the laundry with the first Rangeman outfit. I was feeling a little strange without underwear, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?