04 Four to Score (16 page)

“Good move,” Connie said. “You on the pill?”

I straightened the kitchen, pocketed the key and took off for the mall. Two hours later I had a week's worth of clothes and a maxed-out charge card.

It was noon when I got to the office. Connie and Lula were at Connie's desk eating Chinese.

“Help yourself,” Lula said, nudging a cardboard carton. “We got lots. We got fried rice, shrimp clumps and Kung Fu something.”

I picked at a shrimp clump. “Heard from Vinnie yet?”

“Not a word,” Connie said.

“How about Joyce? Heard from her?”

“Nope. And she hasn't brought Maxine in, either.”

“I been thinking about Maxine,” Lula said. “I think she's in Point Pleasant. And I wouldn't be surprised if her mama was there, too. That Atlantic City thing was a big phony wild-goose chase to keep us away from Point Pleasant. Her getaway don't feel right. That car was sitting there waiting for her to come out and take off. I think her mama set us up.”

I tried some of the Kung Fu stuff. “I've been thinking the same thing.”

*    *    *    *    *

LULA AND I stood in the middle of the boardwalk, across from the Parrot Bar, and clipped our pagers onto our shorts. I was wearing Day-Glo orange running shorts that had been on sale at Foot Locker, and Lula was wearing yellow-and-black tiger-striped spandex. She'd had her yellow ringlets beaded so that all over her head were four-inch strands of fluorescent pink, poison-green and bright yellow beads. It was ninety-six in the shade, the ocean was millpond calm, the sky was a cloudless azure, and you could fry an egg on the sand. We were here to find Maxine, but already I could see Lula getting distracted by the frozen custard stand.

“This is the plan,” I said to Lula. “You're going to hang out here and keep your eye on the Parrot Bar, and I'm going to canvass the beach and the boardwalk. Page me if you see Maxine or anyone associated with her.”

“Don't worry, nobody'll get by me. I'd just like to see that bony-ass mother. I'll grab her by what little hair she's got left, and I'll—”

“No! No grabbing, no shooting, no gassing, no stun-gunning If you spot someone just stick with them until I get to you.”

“Suppose it's self-defense?”

“There will be no self-defense. Don't let anyone see you. Try to blend in.”

“I need an ice cream to blend in,” Lula said, her hair beads jumping around, clacking every time she moved her head. “You give me an ice cream and I'll look like everybody else here.”

Well hell, Tallulah, then go get an ice cream.

I walked north first. I'd brought a pair of mini-binoculars that I trained on the beach since Maxine seemed like the sunbather type. I went slowly and methodically, wandering through the arcades and bars. I walked beyond the amusement area to where the boardwalk was plain old boardwalk. After an hour of this I turned and headed back to Lula.

“Haven't seen anybody I know,” Lula said when I reached her. “No Maxine. No Maxine's mama. No Joyce. No Travolta.”

I stared into the bar across the way, and I didn't see any of those people, either. I took a brush and an elastic scrunchy out of my bag and pulled my hair back, off my neck, into a ponytail. I had a real desire to jump in the ocean, but I decided to settle for a lemonade. I was down to the wire with Maxine. I didn't have time to waste on such frivolity as lowering my body temperature.

I left Lula on the bench, got a lemonade and continued to walk and to scan the south end of the beach. I walked past a series of spin-the-wheel games and came to an arcade. I stepped into the cool shade and moseyed past the claw machines and the skillo ramps. I looked over at the wall where the prizes were displayed and stopped in my tracks. A woman stood at the wall, surveying the prizes. Five pieces of Farberware for 40,000 points. Wooden lighthouse for 9,450. Looney Tunes watch, 8,450. Dirt Devil, 40,100. Boom box, 98,450 points. The woman seemed to be counting the tickets she held in her hand. One hand held the tickets. And the other hand was heavily bandaged. She had brown hair, slim body.

I stepped farther back in the room and waited to see her face. She stood there for a moment longer, turned and walked to the redemption desk. It was Margie. I scooted past the desk, behind Margie's back, out to the boardwalk and paged Lula. She was just a short distance away. She looked up when the pager went off. I caught her eye and gave her a “come here” wave.

Margie was still at the desk when Lula trotted up.

“What's going on?” Lula asked.

“You remember I told you about Maxine's friend, Margie?”

“The one had her finger chopped off.”

“Yes. That's her at the redemption desk.”

“Point Pleasant sure is a popular place.”

Margie took a large box from an arcade employee and moved to the side door that opened to the street. She passed through the door and turned right, away from the boardwalk. Lula and I watched her walk to the end of the block and cross the street. We followed after her, Lula a little less than a block away and me behind Lula. Margie crossed another street, continued on and went into a house in the middle of the next block.

We held our positions and watched for a while, but Margie didn't come out. The house was a single-story bungalow with a small front porch. Surrounding houses were similar. Lots were small. Cars were parked on both sides of the street.

We weren't in a good position to conduct any kind of surveillance. We'd driven to Point Pleasant in a car that drew attention. My only consolation was that even if we had a more generic car, there were no parking places open.

“So I take it you think this Margie is with Maxine. And maybe Maxine's mama is there, too,” Lula said.

“Yeah. Problem is, I don't know if Maxine's in the house right now.”

“I could be the Avon lady,” Lula said. “Ding dong, Avon calling.”

“If Maxine's mother is in there she'll recognize you.”

“Think maybe we be recognized standing on the street like this, too,” Lula said.

Very true. “Okay, this is what we'll do. We'll go see if Maxine's in the house. If she isn't at home, we'll sit down with Margie and watch some TV until Maxine shows up.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. You want the back door or the front door?”

“Front door.”

“And you probably don't want me to shoot anybody.”

“Shooting isn't my favorite thing.”

Lula walked along the side of the house to the back, and I went to the front door. I knocked twice and Margie answered.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh!”

“Hi,” I said. “I'm looking for Maxine.”

“Maxine isn't here.”

“You wouldn't mind if I came in and looked for myself?”

Maxine's mother swayed into view. “Who is it?” She took a long drag on her cigarette and let the smoke curl from her nose, dragon style. “Christ, it's you. You know, you're getting to be a real pain in the ass.”

Lula came in from the kitchen. “Hope nobody minds my coming in. The back door wasn't locked.”

“Oh God,” Mrs. Nowicki said. “Tweedledum.”

There was an empty box in the middle of the floor with a lamp sitting beside it.

“You win this lamp at the arcade?” Lula asked Margie.

“It's for my bedroom,” Margie said. “Twenty-seven thousand points. Yesterday, Maxine won a deep fat fryer.”

“Hell, we won just about everything in this house,” Mrs. Nowicki said.

“Where's Maxine now?” I asked.

“She had some errands to run.”

Lula sat down on the couch and picked up the channel changer for the TV. “Guess we'll be waiting then. You don't mind if I watch TV, do you?”

“You can't do this,” Mrs. Nowicki said. “You can't just waltz in here and make yourself at home.”

“ 'Course we can,” Lula said. “We're bounty hunters. We can do anything we want. We're protected by a dumb-ass law made back in 1869 when people didn't know any better.”

“Is that true?” Mrs. Nowicki wanted to know.

“Well, actually the law doesn't cover control of the channel changer,” I said. “But it does give us a lot of rights when it comes to the pursuit and capture of a felon.”

There was the sound of gravel crunching in the driveway between houses, and Margie and Mrs. Nowicki exchanged glances.

“That's Maxine, isn't it?” I asked.

“You're going to ruin everything for us,” Mrs. Nowicki said. “We had this all planned out, and now you're screwing it up.”

“I'm screwing it up? Look at you two. You've been scalped and had your finger chopped off. Back in Trenton there's a dead store clerk. And you're still playing this stupid treasure hunt game.”

“It isn't that simple,” Margie said. “We can't leave yet. They have to pay the price.”

A car door slammed and Mrs. Nowicki gave a start. “Maxie!” she yelled.

Lula gave Mrs. Nowicki a bump with her hip. Mrs. Nowicki lost her balance and flopped onto the couch, and Lula sat on her. “I know I'll get hollered at if I shoot you,” Lula said. “So I'll just sit on you until you be quiet.”

“I can't breathe,” Mrs. Nowicki said. “You ever think about cutting back on the helpings?”

Margie had a trapped animal look, like she couldn't decide whether to shout a warning or bolt for the door herself.

“Sit,” I told her, pulling an industrial-size can of pepper spray out of my bag, shaking the can to make sure it was active. “Don't go running around confusing things.”

I was hidden by the door when Maxine came in, but Lula was in full view, sitting on Mrs. Nowicki.

“Lo,” Lula said to Maxine.

“Shit,” Maxine said. Then she did an about-face and lunged for the door.

I kicked the door closed and aimed the spray at her. “Stop! Don't make me use this.”

Maxine took a step back and raised her hands.

“Now get off me, you big load of blubber,” Mrs. Nowicki said to Lula.

I had a pair of cuffs stuck into the waistband of my shorts. I handed the cuffs to Lula and told her to secure Maxine.

“Sorry to have to do this,” I said to Maxine. “The charges against you are minimal. If you cooperate you might not even get jail time.”

“It's not jail time I'm worried about,” Maxine said. “It's dead time.”

Lula reached out to snap the cuffs, and without warning the front and back doors crashed open. Joyce Barnhardt, dressed in swat black with “bounty hunter” emblazoned on her T-shirt, charged into the room with guns drawn. There were three other women with her, all dressed like Joyce, all armed like Rambo on rampage, all yelling “Freeze” at the top of their lungs and doing those squatting cop stances you see in the movies.

Margie's new lamp got knocked over and crashed on the floor, and Margie and Mrs. Nowicki and Maxine started yelling and running around, trying to protect their stuff. They were yelling “Oh no!” and “Help!” and “Don't shoot!” Lula dove behind the couch and made herself as small as anyone weighing two hundred pounds could make herself. And I was yelling at everyone to stop yelling.

There was a lot of confusion and a lot of people in that one small room, and it suddenly occurred to me that Maxine wasn't one of them. I heard gravel fly against the house and looked out the window to see Maxine gun the car out of the driveway and take off down the road.

I didn't have a car, so there wasn't much point in my rushing out. And I sure as hell wasn't going to help Joyce catch Maxine, so I didn't say anything. I just backed off and sat down in a big, overstuffed chair and waited for things to calm down. What I really wanted to do was to wade in and beat Joyce to a bloody pulp, but I didn't want to set a bad example for Lula.

Joyce had recruited her cousin Karen Ruzinski and Marlene Cwik to help with the takedown. I didn't know the third woman. Karen had two little kids, and I guess she was happy to get out of the house and do something different.

“Hey Karen,” I said, “where are the kids? Day care?”

“They're with my mother. She's got a pool in her yard. One of those big ones with the deck around it.” Karen set her gun down on the coffee table and pulled her wallet out of one of the pockets in her swat pants. “Look here,” she said. “This is Susan Elizabeth. She starts school this year.”

Mrs. Nowicki picked up Karen's gun, squeezed a shot off, and a chunk of plaster fell out of the ceiling onto the television set. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks and stared at Mrs. Nowicki.

Mrs. Nowicki leveled the gun at Joyce. “Party's over.”

“You're in big trouble,” Joyce said. “You're harboring a fugitive.”

A humorless smile slashed Mrs. Nowicki's face. “Honey, I'm not harboring anything. Look around. You see a fugitive?”

Understanding registered in Joyce's eyes. “Where's Maxine?”

Now I was smiling with Mrs. Nowicki. “Maxine left,” I said.

“You deliberately let her get away!”

“Not me,” I said. “I wouldn't do such a thing. Lula, would I do such a thing?”

“Hell no,” Lula said. “You're a professional. Although, I gotta say, you haven't got no cool bounty hunter shirt like they do.”

“She can't have gone far,” Joyce said. “Everybody out to the car.”

Mrs. Nowicki searched through her pockets, found a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. “Maxie's long gone. They'll never find her.”

“Just out of morbid curiosity,” I said. “What's this all about?”

“It's about money,” Mrs. Nowicki said. Then she and Margie laughed. Like that was a good joke.

*    *    *    *    *

MORELLI WAS SLOUCHED in front of the television when I got back to the house. He was watching Jeopardy, and there were three empty beer bottles alongside his chair.

“Bad day?” I asked.

“To begin with . . . you were telling the truth about your apartment. I checked. It's a big black cinder. Ditto for your car. Following along in the same vein, word has gotten out that we're living together, and my mother expects us for dinner tomorrow at six.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

“The case I've been working on for the last four months collapsed.”

“I'm sorry.”

Morelli made a disgusted gesture. “It happens.”

“Have you had anything to eat?”

An eyebrow raised, and he looked at me sideways. “What did you have in mind?”