12 Twelve Sharp (20 page)

'I only have a moment,' he said. 'I know you're waiting for me to come get you, but there are too many people watching us here. You have to be patient. We'll be together soon enough, and then we'll never be parted again. We'll go to the angels together.'

'Where's Julie?'

'Julie is at home, waiting for you. I told her I was going to bring her a mommy soon. And then we'll be a family, and I can finish my work.'

'She's okay?'

'I love you,' Scrog said.

I grabbed hold of his sleeve and opened my mouth to yell for Morelli. I heard something sizzle, and everything went black.

Even before I opened my eyes I knew what had happened. I felt the familiar tingle and then the feeling getting restored to my fingertips. The noise in my head went from a buzz to a hum and then disappeared, replaced by voices.

Morelli's face swam into focus. He looked worried. 'Are you okay?' he asked. 'I was watching you, and all of a sudden you collapsed.'

'I think I was stun-gunned by Scrog. Did you see him?'

'I saw you say something to the guy behind you. I couldn't see his face, and from the back he didn't resemble Ranger. The skin tone might have been the same, but the hair, and the build, and the clothes were all different. You had Tank two people away to the side of you, and he didn't spot Scrog either.'

Morelli helped me to my feet and wrapped a supporting arm around my waist. People had been cleared away from me. A paramedic had just arrived and was standing to the side.

Thanks,' I said to the paramedic. 'I'm okay.'

'We had men at every exit,' Morelli said. 'The instant you went down we sealed the building. We're letting people out one by one. Do you remember anything about him? What he was wearing?'

'I didn't notice, but I don't think he was in black. For a split second I thought it was Ranger. I think it's the face shape and coloring and haircut from the front. He's shorter than Ranger. His eyes and mouth are different when you see him up close.'

'I'm turning you over to Tank,' Morelli said. 'He'll see that you get home. I'm going to stay here until they empty and search the building. It shouldn't take long. They're moving people out fast. Seventy percent of the people here are women.'

Tank was sitting in my living room, looking uncomfortable. Ranger had given him orders not to leave me alone, and I was worried if I had to use the bathroom he might follow me in. I had a ball game on the television, but Tank kept nervously looking around at me, as if I'd suddenly vanish into thin air. I'd made him stop at a convenience store on the way home, and I'd gotten a week's worth of comfort food. Tastykakes, Cheez Doodles, candy bars, Suzy Qs, barbecued chips. I'd just started working my way through the bag when Morelli and Bob came in, followed by Ranger.

Some sort of silent communication happened between Ranger and Tank, and Tank got up and left without saying a word.

Ranger threw his keys on the kitchen counter. Removed his gun and left it alongside his keys. Morelli did the same. At first glance this looked like they were safe at home, relaxed and unarmed, but I knew they both carried ankle guns. And Ranger always had a knife.

No one said anything. They were both wearing cop faces. Wary, emotionally inaccessible. Not hard to tell they were both in a vile mood.

'How did the search go?' I asked.

'We didn't get him. It looks like he went out a back window,' Morelli said.

I repeated the conversation I'd had with Scrog. No one said anything else. Morelli put a bowl of water on the floor for Bob, got a beer out of the refrigerator, and slouched in front of the television with it. Ranger went to the computer. I stayed in the kitchen and shoved butterscotch Krimpets into my face.

I couldn't imagine what was going to happen next. I had one bed and one couch. The numbers didn't add up. Even if the sleeping arrangements were resolved, I couldn't live with both of them under my roof.

'This is uncomfortable,' I said. 'I'm going to bed. And I'm locking my door.'

Both men looked over at me. We all knew a locked door was meaningless. Morelli and Ranger went where they wanted to go. I blew out a sigh and closed the bedroom door behind me.

I got a tote bag out of the closet, stuffed clothes and cosmetics into it, quietly opened my bedroom window, and climbed out onto the fire escape. I tossed the tote bag and my shoulder bag to the ground, lowered the ladder, and jumped the remaining couple feet. I turned and bumped into Morelli and Ranger, standing hands on hips, not amused.

'How did you know?' I asked.

'Tank called,' Ranger said. 'He's watching the lot.'

'I'm divorcing both of you,' I said. 'I'm moving in with my parents. You can stay here,' I said to Ranger. 'Remember to give Rex fresh water and food in the morning.' I turned to Morelli. 'You and Bob should go home. You'll be more comfortable there.'

Silence.

I gathered my tote bag and shoulder bag up from the ground.

'One of us should stop her,' Ranger said to Morelli, his eyes fixed on me.

'Not going to be me,' Morelli said. 'Have you ever tried to stop her from doing something she wanted to do?'

'Haven't had much success at it,' Ranger said.

Morelli rocked back on his heels. 'One thing I've learned about Stephanie over the years, she's not good at taking orders.'

'Has authority issues,' Ranger said.

'And if you piss her off, she'll get even. She ran over me with her father's Buick once and broke my leg.'

That got a small smile out of Ranger.

'Nice to see you boys bonding,' I said.

I hiked the tote up onto my shoulder and left them still standing hands on hips. I crossed the lot to the Mini and got in. I cranked the engine over and drove out of the lot. I looked in my rearview mirror. Tank was following. Fine by me. I was actually very scared. I was scared for me, and I was scared for little Julie.

It was a little after nine when I got to my parents' house. I parked in the driveway and looked around for Tank. I didn't see him, but I knew he was there. He'd probably work shifts with Hal or Ranger doing surveillance on me. My mother and grandmother were at the door waiting for me. How they always knew I was in the neighborhood was a mystery. Some female homing device that announced the approach of a daughter.

'I'm letting a friend use my apartment,' I told them. 'I was wondering if I could stay here for a couple days.'

'Of course you can stay here,' my mother said. 'But what about Joseph? I thought you two were… you know, almost married.'

I dropped the tote bag in the little hall foyer. 'He has a full case load and is really busy. He's spending a lot of hours on the Manoso murder and kidnapping.'

'The phone's been ringing off the hook,' my mother said. 'Everyone calling about the viewing. They said you fainted.'

'They had way too many people in the funeral home. It was hot, and it smelled like funeral flowers, and I hadn't eaten any dinner. I'm fine now. And Joe was there to catch me.'

The buzzwords in that explanation were hadn't eaten dinner. Those were the words that without fail got my mother up and running every time.

'No dinner!' my mother said. 'No wonder you fainted in that crush. Come into the kitchen, and I'll make you a nice roast beef sandwich.'

My mother pulled a bunch of dishes out of the refrigerator and put them on the small kitchen table. Cole slaw, potato salad, three-bean salad, macaroni. She hauled out a chunk of roast beef, bread, mustard, olives, pickled beets, lettuce, sliced tomatoes, sliced provolone.

'This is great,' I said, filling my plate.

'Good,' my mother said, 'and after you've had something to eat, you can tell me how your grandmother managed to get the lid open on the casket.'

Morelli and my parents live in houses that are almost identical, but Morelli's house feels larger. Morelli's house has less furniture, fewer people, and one more bathroom. My parents' house is filled with overstuffed couches and chairs and end tables and candy dishes, vases, fruit bowls, china doo-dads, stacks of magazines, afghans, area rugs, and kid things for my sister Valerie's three girls. My parents' house smells like pot roast and lemon furniture polish and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. Morelli's house rarely has a smell, except when it rains… then it smells like wet Bob.

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.'