07 Seven Up (15 page)

“Bodies washed up on the shore? Bodies found in Dumpsters? Dismembered limbs stuffed into the overnight drop at the video store? No. It's been slow. None of those.”

I hung up and called Ranger. “Help,” I said.

“Heard you got trashed by some old lady last night,” Ranger said. “We've got to get you some self-defense lessons, babe. Not good for the image to get trashed by an old lady.”

“I have bigger problems than that. I was baby-sitting Mooner and he disappeared.”

“Maybe he just split.”

“Maybe he didn't.”

“He driving a car?”

“His car's still in my lot.”

Ranger let the silence lie there for a beat. “I'll ask around and get back to you.”

I called my mother. “You haven't seen Mooner, have you?” I asked.

“What?” she yelled. “What did you say?”

I could hear Angie and Mary Alice running around in the background. They were screaming at each other and it sounded like they were banging on pots.

“What's going on?” I shouted into the phone.

“Your sister's gone off on a job interview, and the girls are having a parade.”

“It sounds more like they're having World War Three. Has Mooner been around this morning?”

“No. I haven't seen him since last night. He's a little strange, isn't he? Are you sure he's not on drugs?”

I LEFT THE note to Mooner taped to my front door, and I drove down to the office. Connie and Lula were sitting at Connie's desk, watching the door to Vinnie's private lair.

Connie made a gesture for me to be quiet. “Joyce is in there with Vinnie,” she whispered. “They've been at it for ten minutes now.”

“You should have been here in the beginning when Vinnie was making sounds like a cow. Think Joyce must have been milking him,” Lula said.

Some low-key grunting and moaning was going on beyond the closed door. The grunting stopped and Lula and Connie leaned forward expectantly.

“This is my favorite part,” Lula said. “This is where they get to the spanking and Joyce barks like a dog.”

I leaned forward with them, listening for the spanking, wanting Joyce to bark like a dog, feeling embarrassed but not able to walk away.

I was firmly pulled back by my ponytail. Ranger had come in behind me and had me by the hair. “Glad to see you're hard at work looking for Mooner.”

“Shhh. I want to hear Joyce bark like a dog.”

Ranger had me flat against him, and I could feel the heat from his body seeping into mine. “Not sure that's worth waiting for, babe.”

There was some slapping and some squealing and then there was silence.

“Well, that was fun,” Lula said, “but there's gonna be a price for the entertainment. Joyce only goes in there when she wants something. And there's only one high-bond case pending right now.”

I looked at Connie. “Eddie DeChooch? Vinnie wouldn't give Eddie over to Joyce, would he?”

“Usually he only sinks that low when there are horses involved,” Connie said.

“Yeah, equine sex is the dollar ticket,” Lula said.

The door opened and Joyce flounced out. “I'll need the paperwork on DeChooch,” she said.

I lunged at her, but Ranger still had hold of my lair, so I didn't get very far. “Vinnie,” I yelled, “get out here!”

The door to Vinnie's inner office crashed closed and there was the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Lula and Connie glared at Joyce.

“It's going to take a while to get the paperwork together,” Connie said. “Maybe days.”

“No problem,” Joyce said. “I'll be back.” She glanced over at me. “Nice eye. Very attractive.”

I was going to have to do another Bob on her lawn. Maybe I could sneak into her house somehow and do a Bob on her bed.

Ranger released my ponytail but kept a hand on my neck. I tried to act calm, but his touch was humming through me all the way to my toes and points in between.

“None of my contacts have seen anyone meeting Mooner's description,” Ranger said. “I thought we might discuss the subject with Dave Vincent.”

Lula and Connie looked my way. “What's happened to Mooner?”

“Disappeared,” I said. “Just like Dougie.”

RANGER WAS DRIVING a black Mercedes that looked fresh off the showroom floor. Ranger's cars were always black and always new and always of questionable ownership. He had a pager and a cell phone clipped to his visor and a police scanner under the dash. And I knew from past experience that there'd be a sawed-off shotgun and an assault weapon hidden somewhere in the car and a semi-automatic clipped to his belt. Ranger is one of the few civilians in Trenton with a permit to carry concealed. He owns office buildings in Boston, has a daughter in Florida by a failed marriage, has worked worldwide as a mercenary, and has a moral code that isn't entirely in sync with our legal system. I have no idea who the heck he is . . . but I like him.

The Snake Pit wasn't open for business, but there were cars parked in the small lot adjacent to the building and the front door was ajar. Ranger parked next to a black BMW, and we went inside. A cleaning crew worked at polishing the bar and washing the floor. Three muscle-bound guys stood to one side, drinking coffee and talking. I assumed they were wrestlers going over the game plan. And I could see why Grandma left bingo early to come to The Snake Pit. The possibility that one or more of the coffee drinkers could have his underwear ripped off in the mud held some appeal. Truth is, I think naked men are kind of strange looking what with their doodles and ding-dong hanging loose like they do. Nevertheless, there's the curiosity thing. I guess it's another one of those car crash experiences, where you feel compelled to look even if you know you'll be horrified.

Two men were sitting at a table reviewing what looked like a spreadsheet. They were in their fifties with health club bodies, dressed in slacks and lightweight sweaters. They looked up when we entered. One of them acknowledged Ranger.

“Dave Vincent and his accountant,” Ranger said to me. “Vincent is the one in the tan sweater. The one who nodded hello.”

Perfect for the house in Princeton.

Vincent stood and came over to us. He smiled when he saw my eye up close. “You must be Stephanie Plum.”

“I could have taken her out,” I said. “She caught me by surprise. It was an accident.”

“We're looking for Eddie DeChooch,” Ranger said to Vincent.

“Everyone is looking for DeChooch,” Vincent said. “The guy's nutty.”

“We thought he might be keeping in touch with his business partners.”

Dave Vincent shrugged. “I haven't seen him.”

“He's driving Mary Maggie's car.”

Vincent showed some annoyance. “I don't get involved with my employees' private lives. If Mary Maggie wants to loan Chooch a car that's her business.”

“If she's hiding him it becomes my business,” Ranger said.

And we turned and left.

“So,” I said when we got to the car. “That seemed to go well.”

Ranger grinned at me. “We'll see.”

“Now what?”

“Benny and Ziggy. They'll be at the club.”

“OH JEEZ,” BENNY said when he came to the door. “Now what?”

Ziggy was a step behind him. “We didn't do it.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Anything,” Ziggy said. “We didn't do anything.”

Ranger and I exchanged glances.

“Where is he?” I asked Ziggy.

“Where's who?”

“Mooner.”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No,” I said. “It's a real question. Mooner is missing.”

“Are you sure?”

Ranger and I gave them the silent stare-down.

“Crap,” Ziggy finally said.

WE LEFT BENNY and Ziggy with as much information as we had when we arrived. Which meant we had nothing. Not to mention that I felt as if I'd just participated in an Abbott and Costello routine.

“So that seemed to go almost as well as the interview with Vincent,” I said to Ranger.

This got me another smile. “Get in the car. We're visiting Mary Maggie next.”

I gave him a salute and got into the car. I wasn't sure we were accomplishing anything but it was a nice day to be riding around with Ranger. Riding with Ranger absolved me of responsibility. I was clearly the underling. And I was protected. No one would dare shoot at me when I was with Ranger. Or if they did shoot at me, I was pretty certain I wouldn't die.

We drove in silence to Mary Maggie's condo building, parked one row over from her Porsche, and took the elevator to the seventh floor.

Mary Maggie answered on the second knock. Her breath caught when she saw us and she took a step backward. Ordinarily this reaction might be construed as a sign of fear or guilt. In this case it was the normal reaction women have when confronted with Ranger. To Mary Maggie's credit it wasn't followed by flushing and stammering. Her attention traveled from Ranger to me. “You again,” she said.

I gave her a finger wave.

“What happened to your eye?”

“Parking dispute.”

“Looks like you lost.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I said. Not necessarily in this case . . . but sometimes.

“DeChooch was riding around town last night,” Ranger said. “We thought you might have seen him.”

“Nope.”

“He was driving your car, and he was involved in an accident. Hit-and-run.”

It was clear from the expression on Mary Maggie's face that this was the first she'd heard of the accident.

“It's his eyes. He shouldn't be driving at night,” she said.

No shit. Not to mention his mind, which should be keeping him off the road all together. The man was a lunatic.

“Was anyone hurt?” Mary Maggie asked.

Ranger shook his head.

“You'll call us if you see him, right?” I said.

“Sure,” Mary Maggie said.

“She's not going to call us,” I said to Ranger when we were in the elevator.

Ranger just looked at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Patience.”

The elevator doors opened to the underground garage and I jumped out. “Patience? Mooner and Dougie are missing, and I've got Joyce Barnhardt breathing down my neck. We ride around and talk to people, but we don't learn anything and nothing happens and no one even seems to be worried.”

“We're leaving messages. Applying pressure. You apply pressure in the right spot and things start to break down.”

“Hmm,” I said, still not feeling like we'd accomplished a lot.

Ranger unlocked his car with the remote. “Don't like the sound of that hmm.”

“The pressure stuff sounds a little . . . obscure.”

We were alone in the dimly lit garage. Just Ranger and me and two levels of cars and concrete. It was the perfect setting for a gangland murder or an attack by a deranged rapist.

“Obscure,” Ranger repeated.

He grabbed me by my jacket lapels, pulled me to him, and kissed me. His tongue touched mine and I got a rush that was just a millimeter below climax. His hands slid inside my jacket and circled my waist. He was hard against me. And suddenly nothing mattered but a Ranger-induced orgasm. I wanted one. Now. The hell with Eddie DeChooch. One of these days he'd drive himself into a bridge abutment and that'd be the end of that.

“Yes, but what about the wedding?” a small voice murmured from deep in my brain.

Shut up, I told the voice. I'll worry about it later.

“And what about your legs?” the voice asked. “Did you shave your legs this morning?”

Cripes, I was barely able to breathe with needing this goddamn orgasm and now I was supposed to worry about the hair on my legs! Where's the justice in this world? Why me? Why am I the one worrying about the hair on my legs? Why is it always the woman worrying about the freaking hair?

“Earth to Steph,” Ranger said.

“If we do it now does it count as a credit toward capturing DeChooch?”

“We aren't doing it now.”

“Why not?”

“We're in a parking garage. And by the time I get you out of the garage you'll have changed your mind.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “So what's the point here?”

“The point is that you can break down a person's defense system if you apply the right pressure.”

“Are you telling me this was just a demonstration? You got me into this . . . this state to prove a point?”

His hands were still at my waist, holding me against him. “How serious is this state?” he asked.

If it was any more serious I'd spontaneously combust. “It's not that serious,” I told him.

“Liar.”

“How serious is your state?”

“Frighteningly serious.”

“You're complicating my life.”

He opened the car door for me. “Get in. Ronald DeChooch is next on the list.”

The front room to the paving company offices was empty when Ranger and I walked in. A young guy poked his head around a corner and asked what we wanted. We said we wanted to talk to Ronald. Thirty seconds later Ronald strolled in from somewhere in the back of the building.

“I heard an old lady popped you in the eye, but I didn't realize she did such a good job,” Ronald said to me. “That's a first-class shiner.”

“Have you seen your uncle lately?” Ranger asked Ronald.

“No, but I heard he was involved in the accident outside the funeral parlor. He shouldn't be driving at night.”

“The car he was driving belongs to Mary Maggie Mason,” I said. “Do you know her?”

“I've seen her around.” He looked at Ranger. “Are you working this case, too?”

Ranger gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Good to know,” Ronald said.

“What was that?” I asked Ranger when we got outside. “Was that what I think it was? Was that hemorrhoid saying it made a difference with you on board? Like, now he was going to take the search seriously?”

“Let's take a look at Dougie's house,” Ranger said.

Dougie's house hadn't changed since the last time I was there. No evidence of a new search. No evidence that Dougie or Mooner had passed through. Ranger and I went room by room. I filled Ranger in on the previous searches and the missing pot roast.

“Do you think it's significant that they took a pot roast?” I asked Ranger.

“One of life's mysteries,” Ranger said.

We walked around back and snooped in Dougie's garage.

The little yappy dog that lives next door to Dougie left his post on the Belskis' back porch and skipped around us, yipping and snapping at our pants legs.