Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
It was five in the morning when Ranger returned to my bedroom. He smelled slightly smoky, and he had a five o’clock shadow that was a combination of beard and soot.
“Is there anything left of your account?” I asked him.
“It’s now a vacant lot. This was a major screwup on my end. We obviously missed an incendiary device when we cleared the building. I have an early morning briefing, but I need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I said. “Talk.”
“Do we have a marital schedule?”
“No.”
“Do you want one?”
“Not right now,” I said. “I have a lot going on.”
“That works for me,” Ranger said. “I’m behind at Rangeman. I need to hire two more men and an office assistant. And now I need to find out what went wrong tonight. To be honest a wedding ceremony isn’t important to me. Having you in my apartment when I finish my day is important.”
“It’s important to me too,” I said. “I miss Ella.”
“If I fired Ella, would you still want to marry me?”
“I’d have to think about it.”
That made him smile. His teeth were very white in his dark, sooty beard. “Are you making any progress with Bruno Jug and the vampire?”
“I have an agreement with Bruno. The vampire is disturbing and complicated.”
“Do you need help?”
“Yes. I want to interview a bartender on Stark and I don’t feel like enough of a brute to do it alone.”
“So, you need Rent-A-Brute?”
“Yes.”
“I’m your man. When do you want to do this?”
“Any time after nine thirty tonight.”
“I’m not sure of my schedule. I’ll text you a half hour ahead. It’ll probably be around ten.”
Ranger left. I went into the kitchen and stared into the fridge. The bread had grown a blue splotch of mold while I’d been sleeping. No milk. No juice. Small amount of peanut butter. I got a spoon and ate the remaining peanut butter.
“I’m pathetic,” I said to Rex. “I might be pregnant and the major food group in my diet is doughnuts. That’s irresponsible.” I looked around my kitchen. “What’s worse is, I don’t even have any doughnuts.”
Rex was asleep in his soup can and didn’t respond.
I called Morelli. “Are you still home?”
“Yep,” he said. “I just got out of the shower. Did you pull an all-nighter? Is everything okay? I’ve never known you to be awake at this hour.”
“I’m good,” I said. “I’m coming over. I need breakfast.”
Fifteen minutes later I was at Morelli’s little kitchen table, and he was making scrambled eggs. I had coffee with real half-and-half, a small glass of orange juice, and a wheat bagel with cream cheese. He brought our eggs to the table and sat across from me.
“What’s going on?” he asked, adding Tabasco to his eggs.
“I’ve decided to get healthy. From now on I’m going to get up early, get some exercise, and eat good food.”
“Did you get exercise today?”
“I took the stairs instead of the elevator and then I walked to my car.”
Morelli grinned. “That’s a start.”
“Baby steps,” I said, and I did a mental grimace at the unintentional double meaning. “I want to talk to you about Zoran Djordjevic.”
Morelli forked in some egg. “Points for pronouncing his name right.”
“I think it’s possible that he’s a serial killer.”
Morelli stopped eating and gave me his full attention. “What have you got?”
I gave him the chronological history of the four missing women, beginning with Zoran’s wife and ending with Julie Werly.
“I wasn’t the principal on any of the locals,” Morelli said, “but I’m familiar with them. All dead ends.”
“Interesting though, right?”
“Jimmy was the principal on Werly. It was a big deal. Horrible crime. Everybody was broken up about it. She was really well-liked. Her students loved her. My understanding is that her parents refuse to believe she’s dead.”
“No body.”
“Right. The body and the murder weapon were never found. I’ll talk to Jimmy about it.”
I finished my breakfast and stood. “This was great. Thanks.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“Not tonight,” I said. “I’m doing a stakeout.”
Morelli rinsed his coffee mug and put it in the dishwasher. “Tell me it isn’t dangerous.”
“It isn’t dangerous,” I said.
Morelli wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. “Be careful.”
The next stop was the supermarket. It didn’t open until seven o’clock, so I sat in the lot and made a food list. After the food list, I reviewed what I knew about Zoran, which was very little. He was dripping blood when he ran out of the laundromat. I decided I should go back to the scene of the crime and see where the blood trail stopped. And I should ask Ranger if his tech guy could tap into any video feeds in the area. The police would also have that ability, but they wouldn’t tell me what they found.
A small clump of early shoppers had gathered in front of the store. The doors opened and the shoppers rushed in. I left my car, got a cart, and followed at a more sedate pace. I looked for things that were appropriate for someone who had no talent in the kitchen. Baby carrots, snap peas, green beans. All prewashed and sealed up in bags. And I could share them with Rex. Salad greens. Prewashed and sealed up in a plastic box. I was on a roll. I could do this. I added blueberries, strawberries, bananas, a couple apples, and cherry tomatoes. I considered buying potatoes but decided it might be beyond me first time out. I got shelled walnuts and almonds for Rex and me. Swiss, cheddar, provolone, and American cheese slices. Instant oatmeal. Pop Tarts. Lots of them. Peanut butter and almond butter. Honey. Lots of olives. Wheat bread that said it was healthy and full of seeds. Burger buns that had no real nutritional value. A variety of condiments. Milk, half-and-half, vanilla yogurt, Irish butter, orange juice, eggs. I got to the meat counter and drew a blank. I didn’t know what to do with meat but it seemed like I should buy some, so I got a large packet of ground beef. I did a left turn and went down the frozen-food aisle. I couldn’t cook but I could defrost and reheat. Frozen veggie burgers, frozen beef patties, frozen chicken nuggets. Bags of frozen vegetables. Frozen rice and pasta meals. Frozen waffles and bagels. Seemed like a good start.
I checked out, took all my groceries home, and put them away. I spent a moment staring at the inside of my fridge, thinking it looked nice with food in it. I took a shower, blasted my hair with the hair dryer, and got dressed in the usual uniform of T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
Lula and Connie were already in the office when I strolled in.
“We’ve still got some good doughnuts left,” Lula said. “Connie got extra Boston cream today.”
“I’m going to hold on the doughnut. I already had breakfast this morning. I want to take a look at the laundromat crime scene.”
“I guess I could go with you,” Lula said. “Not much going on here.”
I drove to Freemont and parked across from the laundromat. The crime scene tape was still in place. The street was empty.
“What are we looking for?” Lula asked, following me to the taped-off area.
“Blood. I want to see if there’s a blood trail.”
“There’s splotches coming out the door,” Lula said. “The splotches end but there’s footprints on account of he must have stepped in the blood. And there’s some little dribbles going down the sidewalk in the direction of the clothes store.”
We got to the clothes store and the dribbles ended.
“Hold on,” Lula said at the curb. “I think there’s a footprint here but it’s hard to see. It looks like he crossed the street, but there was a lot of traffic here when the cops and EMTs arrived. Everything got run over.”
We went to the other side of the street and searched around.
“If I was Zoran, I’d go through that alleyway on the side of the grocery,” Lula said.
We took the alleyway and came out on Stark Street. There was a bar on one side and a narrow, three-story rooming house on the other. The front door to the bar was open. The interior was dark. We stepped inside, and I was knocked over with the stench of stale beer and pot. A skinny guy in a tank top was standing holding a mop on the far side of the room.
“Something I can do for you ladies?” he asked.
Lula was rocking a red Raquel Welch wig and a scoop-neck top that was two sizes too small and showed about a quarter mile of cleavage. “You want me to take point on this?” she asked me.
I nodded. “Yup. Go for it.”
She stepped forward so the mop guy could get a good look. “We’re businesswomen,” Lula said. “One of our clients was supposed to meet us on the corner about a half hour ago, and he hasn’t shown up. We thought he might have been thirsty and stopped in here.”
“Nobody been here this morning but me.” The mop guy looked at Lula and then at me. “He supposed to do business with both of you?”
“He’s a regular,” Lula said. “We give him a twofer. Maybe you know him. His name is Zoran.”
“I don’t know anybody named Zoran.”
“He works at the laundromat on the next street,” Lula said. “White guy with weird teeth.”
“That’s Fang,” mop guy said. “Everybody knows him as Fang. You make a comment about his teeth to his face, and he tells you he’s a vampire. Like he’s real proud of it. I heard he got hungry during work hours and killed a customer.”
“Did he come in here a lot?” I asked mop guy.
“Not a lot. Once in a while. Some of the street vendors conduct business in the alleyway, and we get some trade from it. This is a shitty bar but it’s the only one open in the morning. If you’re a morning freak and want a place to sit and do your thing, this is it.”
“And Fang comes in to do his thing?”
“I guess you’d have to do some kind of substance abuse to get through hanging out in a laundromat all day,” Lula said. “What is Fang into?”
“He was old-school,” mop guy said. “Liked the psychedelics. Shrooms, acid, pot, special K. A couple times I saw him with roofies. Not that it’s any of my business, but I figured with his dental problems he probably needed Scooby Snacks to get a cooperative date.”
“I don’t like men who take advantage of a woman with that kind of stuff,” Lula said.
“I hear you,” mop guy said. “I guess Fang found a better way, right? Spend time with you ladies.” He smiled, showing a large gold tooth in the front with a small diamond embedded in it. “What would it take to get a twofer from you? I got a back room here, and I could pay you in liquor. You could take your pick.”
“That’s real appealing,” Lula said, “but we’re on the clock, and we gotta be back on the corner for a pickup. We’ll stop in when we got more time. You don’t want to rush a twofer with us.”
“You know where to find me,” mop guy said.
“What time do you open?” I asked him.
“I come in to clean up around seven o’clock.”
Lula and I left the bar. We moseyed around a little looking for signs of blood, but we didn’t spot any dribbles or footprints. We gave up on the tracking project and took the long way back to my SUV, avoiding the alleyway. The state’s mobile crime lab was parked in front of the laundromat. A squad car was parked behind it in the exact spot where we’d seen a footprint.
“Looks like the cops are busy obscuring evidence,” Lula said.
Morelli and Jimmy had both been on the scene yesterday. They were good cops. They were smart. The initial blood trail was obvious, and I was sure that the footprint had already been documented. I was also sure that they knew about the alleyway drug market. The twofer ladies had the advantage over Morelli and Jimmy when it came to getting information out of the mop guy.
“I’ve still got some friends on the street,” Lula said. “One of them might know something, but they don’t get up this early. I could talk to them after lunch.”
“Good thinking,” I said. “In the meantime, I’m going to visit Bruno Jug.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? He said he’d call you . Do you at least have a present for him? Last time you brought him a present.”
“No present. Just me, offering him a ride.”
“Maybe you should get dressed up a little,” Lula said. “Spruce up your makeup. What kind of makeup are you wearing anyway?”
“Eyeliner and a little mascara,” I said. “And lip gloss.”
“Everyone’s wearing false eyelashes now. You should try it. It would add drama to your face. And you’d look good with eye shadow with some glitter to it.”
“Anything else?”
“A dress would be good. And heels. Heels with your jeans might be a good look if you put on a tank top and maybe a little leather jacket over the tank top.”
“I’m not asking him out on a date. I’m offering him a ride to the police station.”
“Just sayin’. Sometimes you want to sweeten the deal.”
I thought Lula raised a good point about my clothes. I couldn’t see myself doing the job in a dress and heels, but I thought I could look more professional. I was wearing the few emergency things I’d bought after the fire. A comfortable hoodie, sneakers, and some inexpensive girly T-shirts. The jeans were nice. I’d spent money on the jeans.
“If I could bring Jug in, I could buy some clothes,” I told Lula.
“As I see it, that’s a lot of motivation,” Lula said. “Let’s go get the crazy old coot.”
I drove to East Gilbert Street and parked in front of Jug Produce.
“I hope you aren’t planning on leaving me in the car again,” Lula said. “I want to see what a fruit tycoon’s office looks like.”
“It’s not that impressive.”
“I imagine it’s not as fancy as the Oval Office, where the president works. I saw a picture of the Oval Office, and it had a big blue rug with an eagle in the middle of it. I don’t know if I could live with an eagle in the middle of my rug, but I guess if you’re the president you have to put up with that sort of thing. Like, it’s his cross to bear.”
I had my own carpet cross to bear. It was named Herbert. He was going to be in my house today supervising rug installation. I did a mental head slap. I should have been more adamant about not wanting the carpet. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Are you okay?” Lula said. “You’re making a funny face like you just ate something awful and you might throw up.”
“I’m good,” I said. “Just a touch of indigestion.”
“That’s on account of you didn’t have your usual doughnut in the morning. Once you get your body used to doughnuts, it’s not happy with anything else.”
I suspected Lula was right about the doughnuts, but this morning my gastric reflux was being caused by Herbert. I got out of the SUV, crossed the sidewalk, and went into the building with Lula tagging along. The small foyer was empty. No one behind the desk. I could hear voices not far off. I walked past the desk and took the stairs to the second floor. I walked down the short hallway and stopped at Jug’s office. The door was closed but I could hear talking inside. I knocked on the door and Lou answered.
“Hi,” I said. “Remember me? You gave me a fruit basket.”
“What do you want?”
I stepped to the side and peeked around him, spotting Jug at his desk. “Hi, Mr. Jug,” I called out. “It’s Stephanie. I’m the one who brought you pajamas.”
Lula elbowed Lou aside so she could see into the room. “And I’m Lula,” she said. “I picked the pajamas out. You got a real nice office here.”
Lou tried to move Lula back into the hall.
“Hey!” Lula said to Lou, pulling herself up a couple inches, getting into his bulldog face. “You watch your hands. You get your hands off me. No one touches Lula ’less she wants them to. Did I give you permission to touch me? No, I did not.”
“What’s going on?” Jug asked. “What’s with the ladies?”
“You see?” Lula said to Lou. “There’s a gentleman sitting behind that desk. He called us ladies.”
“Sorry, Bruno,” Lou said. “I don’t know how they got up here.”
“We walked up the stairs, you moron,” Lula said. “We came to see Mr. Jug. And I wanted to see his office because he’s a fruit tycoon, and I never met a fruit tycoon before.”
The fruit tycoon was wearing a giant baby bib over his dress shirt, and he was eating what looked like a big bowl of ice cream.
“A fruit tycoon,” Jug said. “That’s a good one. Let the ladies in. Maybe they’d like a picture with me.”
Lula gave me her cell phone and hustled over to Jug for her picture.
“Maybe we should take his bib off first,” Lou said.
There were four more men in the room. They all rushed over to get the bib.
“It’s peach ice cream,” Jug said. “I’m testing it out. We’re thinking of expanding our fruit business.”
“That’s real smart,” Lula said. “Everybody loves ice cream.”
“We have a lot,” Jug said. “They made a whole batch of it. Do you want some?”
“Sure,” Lula said. “I’d never pass up ice cream.”
“Get ice cream for the ladies,” Jug said.
“Your office is a lot more classy than the Oval Office in the White House,” Lula said. “I like that you have an oriental rug on your floor. It has a lot going on in it, and if you spill ice cream on it, you’d never notice.”
“My dog peed on it a couple times, and it soaked right in, and you couldn’t see it at all,” Jug said.
“You’re a smart man,” Lula said. “You know how to make good decisions about rugs and stuff.”
“You bet your ass,” Jug said. “That’s why I’m the boss. Right, Lou?”
“Right, boss,” Lou said.
A man handed bowls of ice cream to Lula and me.
Lula dug into her ice cream. “This is excellent,” Lula said. “It’s nice and creamy. And it tastes real peachy. You know what would be good in it? Chocolate chips.”
“Chocolate chips!” Jug said. “Of course. I knew it was missing something. It needs chocolate chips.” He turned to Lou. “Why didn’t you think of that?”
Lou shrugged. “I don’t think of things like that.”
“I came to talk to you about your court date,” I said to Jug. “I thought this would be a good time to get you rescheduled.”
“Why is this a good time?” Jug asked.
“Do you have anything better to do?” I asked him.
Jug looked at Lou. “Do I?”
“Yeah,” Lou said. “There’s the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing we always do on Thursday,” Lou said.
“Haircut,” one of the other men said. “You need a haircut.”
“And a massage,” Lou said. “You always like the massage.”
“It would be more fun to go with Stephanie and me,” Lula said to Jug.
“Do you give happy endings?” Jug asked.
“Not anymore,” Lula said. “I gave that up. We let Vinnie take care of the ending now. Sometimes Connie.”
“Connie would be okay,” Jug said.
Lou rolled his eyes and the other guys looked like they were trying not to laugh.
“This isn’t gonna take long, is it?” Lou asked me. “You got everything set up? We walk into the court, get the papers signed, and we’re out of there, right?”
“Right.”
“And there better be something at the end that makes Bruno happy. Cupcakes or something.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Primo cupcakes.”
They got Bruno dressed in his jacket, asked him if he had to use the little boys’ room, and escorted him down the hall and down the stairs.
“Lula and I can take it from here,” I said to Lou.
“Not gonna happen,” Lou said. “We all go.”
“All five of you?”
“Yeah. We’re going out the back way. We’ll take our car.”
“That isn’t necessary,” I said. “This is a simple procedure.”
“It’s necessary,” Lou said. “This is the way we do things. You’re going with us.”
“Their car is probably more comfortable anyway,” Lula said to me. “I bet it’s an Escalade. That’s the gangster car of choice. And we don’t have to worry about driving through any bad neighborhoods because they’re all carrying.”
We followed Lou to the loading dock, where two cars were waiting. Both cars had drivers. One of the cars was a big Mercedes sedan. Lou got in the front and Lula and I got in the back with Jug between us. The four remaining men got into an Escalade.
“I told you they’d have an Escalade,” Lula said. “They always have an Escalade in the movies.”
We moved out through the Jug Produce gate, with the Escalade following. I called Connie and told her we were on our way, and she needed to bring cupcakes with her when she came to bond out Jug.
“I’m not bonding him out,” Connie said. “Remember I told you there’s a feud going between Harry and Bruno? Vinnie wasn’t supposed to bond him out the first time.”
I lowered my voice. “I’m with five armed soldiers who are going to be very unhappy to hear this.”
“Maybe it’ll be enough if I bring the cupcakes,” Connie said.
“They better be damn good cupcakes.”
I hung up and smiled at Lula.
“Everything good?” Lula asked.
“Yup,” I said. “It’s all good.”
“Where are we going?” Jug asked.
“We’re going to the courthouse to get your court date rescheduled.”
“And then I get to have a happy ending?”
“Yep,” I said. “Connie will be there and she’s bringing cupcakes.”
“I like cupcakes a lot,” Jug said. “Where are we going again?”
“The courthouse.”
Lou’s phone rang. “Un-huh,” he said. “Un-huh, un-huh, un-huh.” He tapped the phone off and turned to his driver. “Abort. We’re going to the chopper in Bucks.”
The driver made an instant U-turn with the Escalade following his lead.
“What?” I said, leaning forward. “What’s happening?”
“Change in plans,” Lou said. “Bruno has decided to take a short vacation.”
“I’m sitting next to him. He didn’t say anything about a vacation.”
“Sit back and relax,” Lou said. “You aren’t in any immediate danger.”
“Immediate? Like I will be in the future?”
“Are you girls carrying?” he asked.
“Damn right I’m carrying,” Lula said.
“Good to know,” Lou said. “Just make sure you don’t shoot me in the back, because the boys in the Escalade behind us wouldn’t like it.”
Lula and I turned to look out the back window. The Escalade was right on our bumper. We cut through downtown and went over the Stark Street bridge into Pennsylvania. We followed the road along the river for what seemed like an eternity but was really more like thirty to forty minutes. The car turned off Route 32, and the river was behind us. We were almost instantly in an area that was heavily forested, interspersed with cut fields. We passed a couple driveways leading into the woods and an occasional house. It was a curvy road, and we made a few turns before the car stopped at a private gated drive. The gate opened and we wound our way through the woods. The woods gave way to paddocks for horses and a stone house that could only be described as a mansion. Several cars were parked close to the house. We drove past the house, following a single-lane paved road that led to an open field and a Sikorsky S-76 helicopter. Mrs. Jug was standing to one side, flanked by two large men. One of the men was holding Mr. Big.
“You don’t know where you are, right?” Lou asked me.
“Nope,” I said. “Haven’t a clue. Don’t want to know.”
“Me either,” Lula said. “I’m dumb as a box of rocks.”
Lou helped Jug get out.
“What about the cupcakes?” Jug asked me.
“Next time,” I told him. “Promise.”
The Jugs got on the helicopter with Lou and two of the men from the Escalade. The helicopter lifted off and disappeared. One of the remaining men got into the Mercedes to ride shotgun and we headed back to Trenton. No one said anything. We were on the Stark Street bridge and Connie called me.
“I’m at the courthouse with cupcakes,” she said. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Bizarroland,” I said. “I’m on my way back to the office. I’ll meet you there. Make sure you bring the cupcakes.”