Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I woke up Monday morning feeling fantastic. Everything had gone great with Morelli and now I had a little breathing room. No more stupid fibs. I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror and definitely saw a glow. No way to know the origin of the glow. Could have been from the seventeen-layer carrot cake drizzled with caramel sauce that I had for dessert at Pino’s. Or it could have been from the feeling of security I had waking up with my loaded gun on my night table next to the bed. Or I could be pregnant. Truth is that this morning it didn’t matter. A glow is a glow. I took a closer look and thought the glow was aided by the fact that I hadn’t washed my face before bed last night and I still had remnants of blush and Dior luminizer on my cheeks. Thank goodness the fire hadn’t touched the bathroom and my makeup stash had survived.
Lula and Connie were already in the office when I walked in. I bypassed the doughnuts and went for a second cup of coffee. On the way back from the coffee machine I weakened and grabbed a doughnut.
“What’s new?” Lula asked. “Did you have a good weekend?”
I didn’t know where to begin. “I guess it was good,” I said. “I got another fruit basket from Jug.”
“That’s nice,” Lula said. “He’s keeping in touch. Did he stick you with more pears?”
“No. It was a good basket. And then Grandma came over for dinner. And Herbert showed up. And then Zoran showed up.”
“Hold on,” Lula said. “What?”
“Yeah, Herbert opened the door and Zoran had a knife and he hissed at Herbert. And then Herbert started screaming and Zoran backed off and Herbert slammed the door shut and locked it. And then he fainted.”
“Holy shit,” Lula said.
Connie made the sign of the cross.
I decided to skip over the gangbangers and the shooting.
“Then on Sunday I spent some time with Ranger canvassing Stark Street, but nothing came of it,” I said. “And later, I went to Aunt Stella’s birthday party with Morelli.”
“Is she the one who put her cat in the oven?” Lula asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but she didn’t turn the oven on, so the cat was okay.”
“I remember that because it was like ‘Hansel and Gretel,’?” Lula said. “Anything else go down?”
“A woman was killed about a quarter mile from my apartment. Looked like she was jogging, and someone came from behind and bashed her head in, and then dragged her into a wooded area, and bit her in the neck and then cut her jugular,” I said. “We’re thinking it might have been Zoran.”
Lula threw up in Connie’s wastebasket, and I ran to the bathroom and got some wet paper towels.
“Sorry,” Lula said, “but it was like the laundromat all over again.”
“I went to the crime scene with Morelli, but I didn’t look at the victim. I kept a distance.”
“So, that was a good weekend?” Lula asked.
“It ended good. Afterward, I went to Pino’s with Morelli and told him I needed some time to think, and it was all right with him.”
“He’s a good guy,” Lula said.
“Do you know who Bautista is?” I asked them.
“WWE,” Connie said. “And he was in that movie with the kid who wanted to be a spy.”
“ My Spy ,” Lula said. “I love that movie. The kid was great. She had awesome hair. Her hair was the best part of the movie.”
“She had hair like you,” Connie said.
“Yeah,” Lula said. “We got perfect hair.”
Lula went to the bathroom to freshen up and I ran my FTA list by Connie.
“I have Zachary Zell outstanding,” I said. “He’s going to try to get the charges dropped. And then I have Bruno Jug, who promised to come in when the time was right. And Zoran.”
“The time might be right for Jug,” Connie said. “His lawyer was all over the local news yesterday. It turns out that the girl wasn’t fourteen years old. She was nineteen. And she wasn’t date raped with a drug. She was a hooker who decided to squeeze Jug for some money. Apparently, Jug had previously interacted with her, and she’d been getting more than fruit baskets for services given. So, the scandal has changed from raping a young girl to having a hooker make house calls. Or in this case it was warehouse calls.”
I looked at Lula. “Do you want to go for a ride? Now that the scandal has been downgraded to something worthy of a big yawn, I’m thinking Jug might have returned to Trenton.”
“As long as you don’t talk about vampires.”
I grabbed a doughnut out of the box on Connie’s desk, wrapped it in a paper napkin, and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket.
I drove to the produce warehouse first. I thought the chances of him being there were slim, but it was only fifteen minutes from the bail bonds office, and it was on the way to Jug’s house.
“We don’t have cupcakes to tempt Bruno,” Lula said.
“He already got his cupcakes. This trip he’s going to have to be satisfied with sitting next to you.”
“I guess that’s a big treat right there,” Lula said. “Not every man gets to sit next to Lula.”
I turned onto State Street and slowed when I got to Jug Produce. The TV satellite truck wasn’t there but a handful of photographers were camped out across the street from the front entrance. I drove around the block to the warehouse gate and found a couple photographers there too.
“I don’t know what this country’s coming to when the big news of the day is Bruno Jug with a ho,” Lula said. “That’s as interesting as finding Colonel Sanders eating fried chicken. You’d think these photographers could find someone better to harass.”
I’d had my share of unflattering press moments, and I thought this could easily be added to that list, so I parked one street over and called Jug. No answer on his cell phone. I called the office and asked for Jug.
“Mr. Jug won’t be in his office today,” a woman said. “Can I take a message?”
“Tell him Stephanie called,” I said, and hung up.
“Do you think that’s true?” Lula said. “Jug could be in there, hiding under his desk, eating ice cream.”
“I think he’s hiding in his house, eating oatmeal with the bimbo.”
“We aren’t going to his house, are we? Last time we did that, Annie Oakley shot a hole in your back window.”
“That was different. We’re friends now.”
“We aren’t friends with Annie Oakley. And what about his killer dog?”
“The killer dog weighs five pounds. I think we can deal with the killer dog.”
I left State Street and drove to Jug’s pleasant, family-friendly neighborhood. I cruised down Merrymaster and idled in front of Jug’s house. No photographers. No Volvo in the driveway. No Annie Oakley standing guard on the front porch.
“What do you think?” I asked Lula.
“I think those photographers who were hanging around Jug Produce already got shot at here and decided a crap-ass picture of Jug wasn’t worth a trip to the burbs.”
I pulled into Jug’s driveway and parked. I had my gun in my messenger bag and cuffs in my back pocket, but I didn’t expect to use either of them. A week ago, everyone was worried about Bruno Jug. Now he was the least of my problems. I rang the doorbell. No answer, but the dog was barking on the other side of the door. I rang the bell again and knocked. Nothing. I tried the door. Unlocked.
“I don’t care that the door’s unlocked,” Lula said. “I’m not going in there. That dog’ll tear us to shreds.”
I took the doughnut out of my pocket and unwrapped it. I opened the door and threw the doughnut at the dog.
“Problem solved,” I said, stepping inside.
“Hello!” I yelled. “Anybody home? It’s Stephanie and Lula.”
“I hear you,” Jug said, coming out of the kitchen. “You don’t need to yell.” He was in his pajamas, and he had a big spoon in his hand. “I need someone to make oatmeal. I have to start my day with oatmeal.”
“Where’s the Mrs.?” Lula asked.
“She left. Cleaned out her closet, took her stupid electric car, and left. She said she was going to sue me for divorce because I played hide the salami with a hooker.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have done that,” Lula said. “You took sacred marriage vows.”
“My marriage vows didn’t say anything about banging hookers,” Jug said.
“I guess that might make a difference then,” Lula said.
“Now that you’re back, we thought we could take you downtown to get rescheduled,” I said.
“Sure, but I have to have my oatmeal first, and I don’t know how to make it.”
“Honey, everybody knows how to make oatmeal. You follow the directions on the box,” Lula said.
“I can’t find the box.”
“Did you think to look in the cupboard?” Lula asked him. She opened a cupboard and found the oatmeal. “Get dressed, and I’ll make your oatmeal.”
“I always eat breakfast in my pajamas.”
“Not today you don’t,” Lula said. “Get dressed.”
Jug shuffled off to the bedroom, and Lula measured out oatmeal. “This is easy,” she said. “He eats instant. You just microwave it.”
The microwave dinged done, and Jug shuffled back to the kitchen. He was wearing a button-down shirt, pajama bottoms, and slippers.
“What the hell is this?” Lula said to him. “You aren’t dressed.”
“I heard it ding. I like to eat it when it’s hot,” he said.
Lula gave him the bowl of oatmeal and a spoon. “What else?” she asked him.
“I put some milk in it. And brown sugar. And I need coffee. And Mr. Big always goes out to poop when I eat my oatmeal.”
“Just shoot me,” Lula said.
“You find the brown sugar, and I’ll take the dog,” I said to Lula.
There was a canister on the counter that said DOG BISCUITS . I took a handful of dog biscuits and bribed Mr. Big to go outside. I stood on the front porch and watched while Mr. Big walked around the front yard in circles. Nothing was happening poop-wise. I walked into the yard and pointed my finger at Mr. Big and very sternly told him to poop. “Poop!” Mr. Big continued to walk in circles and finally hunched and pooped. I gave him the last dog biscuit and told him he was a good boy, and he ran into the house.
Jug was back in the bedroom, hopefully putting pants on, when I returned to the kitchen.
“He’s got one of those fancy coffee makers that I couldn’t figure out, so we have to stop at Starbucks,” Lula said. “This guy doesn’t know how to do anything. Hard to tell if it’s because he’s always been waited on or if he’s not so smart anymore.”
Jug joined us, fully dressed. “Did he poop?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I said. “Has he had breakfast?”
“Yes. He eats first and then I eat. Otherwise, he sits and barks at me while I eat.” Jug took a dog leash from the counter and hooked it to Mr. Big’s collar. “We’re ready to go get rescheduled.”
“That’s great,” I said, “but Mr. Big has to stay home.”
“He can’t stay home,” Jug said. “There’s no one here, and he gets anxiety if he’s left alone.”
“We won’t be gone long. We’ll put the television on for him.”
“He’s not a big television watcher,” Bruno said. “He’s starting to get cataracts.”
“Okay, I’ll leave Lula here with him and you can come with me.”
“No way,” Lula said. “I’m not a dog person.”
“I thought you wanted a dog and you were going to name her Chardonnay,” I said.
“That’s like Herbert wanting to be a spy,” Lula said. “It’s a fantasy. It don’t really happen.”
“I have a fantasy that I’m headmaster at a fancy private school for girls, and I have to discipline them,” Jug said.
“Yeah, you and every other man on the planet,” Lula said. “When I was a ho I charged extra for that one.”
“That’s it!” I said. “Get in the car. Everyone get in the car. Get the dog in the car.”
I drove to Starbucks and sent Lula in for coffee. She returned with coffee for everyone and a cookie for Mr. Big.
“This won’t take long, will it?” Jug asked. “Lou is coming at ten with some papers to get signed, and I have a massage scheduled for ten thirty.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “We’ll check you in with the desk sergeant and call Connie.”
I parked in the public lot across the street from the municipal building, and we all walked to the entrance.
“They aren’t going to let Mr. Big into the building,” I said. “He’s going to have to stay here with Lula.”
Jug tried to hand Lula the leash, and Mr. Big growled and snapped at Lula.
“What the hell,” Lula said. “I got a cookie for this excuse for a dog.”
I took the leash from Jug, and Big snapped at me.
“No!” I said to Big. “Not acceptable behavior.” I held the leash at arm’s length, so he couldn’t reach me. “Go!” I said to Lula. “You know the drill. The court is in session. Check him in and make sure he gets taken straight to the court. Don’t let them put him in a holding cell. I’ll call Connie.”
Lula and Jug disappeared into the building, and I walked Mr. Big to a patch of grass. I called Connie and told her that Lula was walking Jug through the system and someone was going to have to come down to write the bail bond.
“I’m not allowed to write a bond for him,” Connie said. “I told you that a couple days ago.”
“It was the only way I could get him here. The choice was to forfeit the bond money that Vinnie already invested or bring him in and write a new bond.”
“You delivered him to the desk sergeant, right?”
“Yes. Lula delivered him.”
“Then we get our bail bond money back,” Connie said. “No problem on our end. Jug has to find a new bail bond agent.”
“Okay, give me a contact.”
“There are two other bail bond agencies in the area. I’m texting their numbers to you. There’s a good chance that they won’t write the bond because the amount is going to be too high.”
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could get Lula to whisk Jug out of the building and we could turn him loose.
I called Lula. “Where are you? Have you turned Jug in yet?”
“Yeah. We’re waiting for someone to take us to court.”
Crap!
“Call me as soon as the bond is set.” I looked down at Mr. Big. “This isn’t good. This really isn’t good.”
I took Mr. Big for a walk, and when I got back to the municipal building it was coming up to ten o’clock. I found a bench in the shade, and Mr. Big chilled out while I called Lou.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s Stephanie.”
“You snatched Bruno, didn’t you? I’m at his house and nobody’s home, including the dog.”
“I didn’t snatch him. He wanted to get rescheduled. He didn’t get cuffed or anything. We even made him oatmeal.”
“Yeah, him and the oatmeal. Did he eat in his pajamas?”
“More or less. Here’s the thing: He might not make his massage appointment at ten thirty. We’re waiting for the judge to set his bail bond.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Just sayin’.”
“Keep him away from the press and call me when he’s done. I’ll come get him.”
“Great. Good plan.”
I hung up.
Lula called. “We’re done,” she said. “Where’s Connie?”
“Connie isn’t coming.”
“Say what?”
“What’s the bond?”
“Same as last time.”
“Oh boy.”
“What do you mean by oh boy ?”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why they set the bail bond so high. They know he never gets convicted of anything,” Lula said. “Is Vinnie coming?”
“There’s a hitch.”
“Another one? You’re full of hitches these days.”
“Is that Jug yelling in the background?”
“He isn’t exactly yelling. More like talking loud. He’s explaining that he can’t get locked up because he has a massage appointment.”
“Tell him the appointment got canceled and we’re trying to get his bond straightened out.”
Ten minutes later, Lula met me outside.
“How’d that go?” I asked her.
“It could have been worse. He’s kind of a celebrity. All the cops know him. Some of them wanted a selfie with him.”
“No one wants to bond him out. He’s in a big feud with Harry and Harry won’t let Vinny write a bond for Jug. I called the other two bail bond agencies, and they aren’t interested. The bond is too high.”
“Why doesn’t Jug pay his own bond?” Lula asked.
“Good question.”
I called Lou.
“Is he ready to get picked up?” Lou asked.
“No. We have a problem. No one will write a bail bond for him.”
Silence. “You’re kidding me, right?” Lou finally said.
“Apparently Harry the Hammer and Lou aren’t talking. Something about a big dis at the Christmas party. So now Harry won’t let us bail Jug out. I called two more agencies, and no one will take it. The bond is too high.”
“This is not good.”
“Why doesn’t Bruno bail himself out? He must have millions.”
“The company has millions,” Lou said. “How much money are we talking about?”
“It’s the same as last time.”
“I don’t know how much Bruno has that’s liquid. I’ll get Bordelli working on it. You should work on it too or you could end up in a bad place.”
“The landfill?”
“No. We don’t use that anymore. We dump offshore.”
I hung up.
“I need to talk to Harry,” I said to Lula. “I’m going back to the office.”
“Nobody talks to Harry,” Lula said. “I’ve never even seen him.”
“I have good news,” Connie said when Lula and I walked into the office. “The charges have been dropped on Zachary Zell.”
“Do I get my capture fee?” I asked her.
“Ordinarily, you wouldn’t. But I’m putting it through because you engineered the dropping. That means you have two payments coming to you. Zell and Jug. Jug is a big one. Do you want me to direct deposit them for you?”
“Yes. It would be nice if I live to spend them. I wasn’t able to get a bond posted for Jug, and it was suggested that I might be taking a one-way ocean voyage in the near future if I don’t get Jug out of jail.”
Connie stopped smiling. “Seriously?”
“Hard to tell,” I said. “I need to talk to Harry.”
“Nobody talks to Harry,” Connie said.
“That’s going to change. Where do I find him?”
Connie suddenly realized that I had a dog. Mr. Big was leashed and calmly sitting on my foot.
“What’s with the dog?” Connie asked.
“It’s Mr. Big,” I said. “It’s Jug’s dog. He has anxiety if he’s left alone.”
“Yes, but why do you have him?”
“I keep asking myself that same question,” I said. “Where can I find Harry?”
“He has an office on Beryl Street, off State. It’s a block away from Rangeman,” Connie said. “You’ll have a hard time seeing him there. You’ll have a better chance catching him at lunch. Most days he walks two blocks to Moachie’s Grille, and he takes the booth in the back. Sometimes he eats alone and sometimes he’s got business partners. Don’t approach him if he has business partners. Change tops with Lula and stuff your bra so you’ve got some cleavage. The word is that Harry doesn’t fool around but he likes to look.”
I cut my eyes to Lula. She was wearing a magenta tank top that had some shiny magenta threads running through it. It was stretched to maximum capacity over her enormous boobs, and she had about a quarter mile of cleavage showing in the low scoop neck. “It’s not going to fit me,” I said.
“It’s all spandex,” Lula said. “It’ll shrink up when I take it off. The bigger problem is that I’m going to have to wear your T-shirt, and I don’t have a T-shirt personality. Plus, it’s going to ruin my ensemble.”
“Take one for the team,” I said, turning my back to the front window and stripping down to my bra.
Lula took my T-shirt and handed me her tank top. “That lacy bra you’re wearing is pretty,” Lula said, “but it’s for little boobies. I need a major suspension system to hold my girls up.”
I pulled Lula’s tank top over my head and tucked it into my jeans. She was right about the spandex. The top molded to my body.
“Better,” Connie said, looking at me.
“It’ll be even better if she stuffs half a roll of toilet paper into her teeny-tiny bra,” Lula said.
I went into the bathroom and transformed my B-cup breasts into bulging D cups.
“Now we’re talking,” Lula said when I came out of the bathroom. “Now your girls are saying, Hey, Harry, feast your eyes on these titties .”
“Do you really think this is necessary?” I asked Connie.
“Hell yeah, it’s necessary,” Lula said. “Now you got the power of the tit. Men get confused when they look at big titties. It’s a scientific fact that it scrambles their brain. I read it somewhere. You could get a man to agree to almost anything if you show him big titties.”
I looked at Connie and grimaced, and Connie shrugged.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You can’t dispute science,” Lula said.
I shrugged into my hoodie, leaving it unzipped, and settled my messenger bag on my shoulder. “I’m on my way.”
“You taking the dog with you?” Lula asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not holding the dog.”
“Then you can drive, and I’ll hold the dog.”
We got into Lula’s Firebird, and Big started howling when the sound system ramped up.
“What the heck is wrong with the dog?” Lula asked.
“I think it’s your sound system,” I said.
“What?” she yelled at me.
“Sound system,” I yelled back. “Shut it off.”
Lula shut the sound off and Big stopped howling.
“Dogs have sensitive ears,” I said.
“I can’t drive without my tunes. I won’t be able to concentrate.”
“Maybe you could play your tunes not so loud,” I said.
“What’s the point to that?” Lula asked.
“Then maybe you could drive faster.”