11 Eleven On Top (25 page)

“You sure you want to go in there?” Lula asked. “Looks like its still Guy Day.”

“I don't care what day it is. I'm beat. I want to take a shower, get into clean clothes, and turn into a couch potato.”

I straggled into the house and found five guys slouched in front of the television. I knew them all. Mooch, Tony, Joe, Stanley Skulnik, and Ray Daily. There were pizza boxes, boxes of doughnuts, discarded candy bar wrappers, beer bottles, and chip bags on the coffee table. Bob was sound asleep on the floor by Morelli. He had orange Cheez Doodle dust on his nose, and a red jelly bean stuck in the fur on his ear. Everyone but Bob was eyes glued to the television.

They all turned and stared at me when I walked into the room.

“Hows it going?” Mooch said.

“Looking good,” Stanley said.

“Yo,” from Tony.

“Long time no see,” Ray said.

And they turned back to the game.

I had hair from hell, I'd blown my nose in my shirt, I was covered with rust and crud, my jeans were torn, and I was holding a roll of toilet paper from McDonald's, and no one noticed. Not that I was surprised by this. After all, these guys were from the Burg, and a game was on television.

Morelli continued to stare after the others had turned away.

“Fell down an elevator shaft and got sprayed with pepper spray,” I said to him. “Picked up the toilet paper at McDonalds.”

“And you're okay?”

I nodded.

“Could you get me a cold one?”

I got into the shower and stood there until there was no more hot water. I got dressed in Morelli's sweats, blasted my hair with the dryer, and crawled into bed. It was close to seven when I woke up. The house was quiet. I shuffled into the bathroom, glanced in the mirror, and realized there was a note pinned to my sweatshirt.

WENT OUT TO EAT WITH MOOCH AND TONY. DIDN'T WANT TO WAKE YOU. CALL MY CELL IF YOU WANT ME TO BRING SOMETHING HOME. THERE'S LEFTOVER PIZZA IN THE FRIDGE.

Apparently Guy Day continued into Guy Night. I shuffled downstairs and ate the leftover pizza. I washed it down with a Bud. I checked out the doughnut box.

Three doughnuts left in the box. I blew out a sigh. I wanted a doughnut. I paced in the kitchen. I finished off a bag of chips. I drank another Bud. I couldn't stop thinking about the doughnuts. It's only been one friggin' day, I thought. Surely I can make it through one lousy day without a doughnut. I went to the living room and remoted the television. I flipped through the channels. I couldn't concentrate. I was haunted by the doughnuts. I stormed into the kitchen space, got the doughnuts, and threw them in the garbage. I paced around, and I got the doughnuts out of the garbage. I rammed them down the garbage disposal and ran the disposal. I stared into the sink at the empty drain. No doughnuts. I couldn't believe I had to disposal the doughnuts. I was pathetic.

I went back to the living room and tried television again. Nothing held my attention. I was restless. Big Blue was at the curb, but I had nowhere to go.

It was Sunday night. The mall was closed. I wasn't up to a visit with my parents. Probably I shouldn't be driving Big Blue anyway. It was sitting out there unprotected.

A couple minutes after nine, Morelli swung in on his crutches. “You're looking better,” he said. “You were out like a light when I left. I guess falling down an elevator shaft is exhausting. Did you get your man?”

“No. He ran away.”

Morelli grinned. “You're not supposed to let them do that.”

“Did I miss anything important?”

“Yeah. I just got a call from Laski. Four bodies were found in a shallow grave in a patch of woods off upper Stark this afternoon. Some kids stumbled across it. They said they were looking for their dog, but they were probably looking for a place to smoke weed.” Morelli eased him self onto the couch. “Laski said the bodies were pretty decomposed, but there were rings and belt buckles. None of the bodies has been officially identified yet, but Laski's certain one of them is Barroni. He was wearing an initialed belt buckle when he disappeared, and the wedding ring matches the description his wife, Carla, gave when she filed missing persons.”

I sat next to Morelli. “That's so sad. I always hoped they'd suddenly reappear. Did Laski know how they were killed?”

“Shot. Multiple times. All in the chest, as if they'd been standing together and someone sprayed them with bullets like in an old Al Capone movie.”

“What about the cars?”

"Laski said there was a dirt road going in. Most likely used by kids looking for privacy for one reason or another. So cars could have driven in there.

But no cars were found with the bodies."

"I have profiles on the four missing men. I've been trying to tie them together. And I had a feeling Anthony Barroni and Spiro Stiva were involved somehow.

Now I'm not so sure. Maybe Spiro came back for the sole purpose of terrorizing me and eventually killing me. Maybe he's a lone gun out there and not hanging with anyone. That would partially explain why no one's seen him."

“There's a description out on him now. There's a corroborating witness that Spiro, or at least someone with a badly scarred face, was seen in the area when my garage went up. I don't know what to say about the men who were just found. It's pretty clear that someone called a meeting and executed them.”

“They had to have known the gunman,” I said. “I can't see any of these men getting in his car and driving off to a meeting on upper Stark at the request of a stranger.”

“I agree, but we don't know the relationship. It could have been something impersonal, like blackmail. And the blackmailer decided to terminate.”

“Do you think that's it?”

“No,” Morelli said. “I think they all knew each other, and there was a fifth member of the group who had his own agenda.”

“They were all in the same unit at Fort Dix.”

Morelli turned and looked at me. “You found that out?”

“Yeah.”

“So, not only are you hot but you're smart, too?”

“You think I'm hot?”

Morelli had his hand up my shirt, tinkering with my bra. “Cupcake, I'm not sharing my house with you because you can cook.”

I cut my eyes to him. “Are you telling me I'm here just for the sex?”

Morelli was concentrating on getting me undressed and not paying attention to the tone of my voice. “Yeah, the sex has been great.”

“What about the companionship, the friendship, the relationship part of this?”

Morelli paused in his effort to release the clasp on my bra. “Uh oh, did I just say something stupid?”

“Yes. You said I was just here for the sex.”

“I didn't mean that.”

“Yes, you did! It's all you think about with me.”

“Cut me some slack,” Morelli said. “I have a broken leg. I sit here all day, eating jelly beans and thinking about you naked. It's what guys do when they have a broken leg.”

“You did that before you broke your leg.”

“Oh man,” Morelli said. “This isn't going to turn into one of those issue discussions, is it? I hate those discussions.”

“Suppose for some reason we couldn't have sex. Would you still love me?”

“Yeah, but not as much.”

“What kind of an answer is that? That's not the right answer.”

Okay, so I knew his answer wasn't serious, and I didn't really think my relationship with Morelli was entirely sexual, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from getting crazy. I was on my feet, flapping my arms and yelling. This was usually Morelli's role, and here I was, working myself into a frenzy, going down a one-way street to nowhere. And I suspected it was Lula's jelly doughnut. The doughnut was bursting with jelly, and the jelly was squishing out in all the wrong places. And if that wasn't frightening enough, I was turning myself on. All the while I was yelling about Morelli wanting nothing but sex, the truth is, I could think of nothing else.

“Can we finish this upstairs?” Morelli asked. “My leg wants to go to bed.”

“Sure,” I said. “There are parts of me that want to go to bed, too.”

I was showered and dressed and ready to go to work. I'd had two mugs of coffee and an English muffin. It was 8:00 A.M., and Morelli was still in bed.

“Hey,” I said. “What's up with you? You're always the early riser.”

“Mmmmph,” Morelli said, pillow over his face. “Tired.”

“How could you be tired? It's eight o'clock. It's time to get up! I'm leaving. Don't you want to kiss me goodbye?”

Nothing. No answer. I whipped the sheet off him and left him lying there in all his glorious nakedness. Morelli still didn't move.

I sat on the bed next to him. “Joe?”

“I thought you were going to work.”

“You're looking very sexy... except for Mr. Happy, who seems to be sleepy.”

“He's not sleepy, Steph. He's in a coma. You woke him up every two hours and now he's dead.”

“He's dead?”

“Okay, not dead, but he's not going to be up and dancing anytime soon. You might as well go to work. Did you walk Bob?”

“I walked Bob. I fed Bob. I cleaned the living room and the kitchen.”

“Love you,” Morelli said from under the pillow.

“11-1-1-like you, too.” Shit.

I went downstairs and stood at the front door, looking out at Big Blue. Probably perfectly safe, but I didn't feel comfortable taking the chance. Bob came to stand next to me. “I have no way to get to work,” I said to Bob. “I could call Ranger, but lately it feels like I'm on a date when I'm in a car with Ranger, and it would be tacky to have a date pick me up here. Lula probably isn't up yet.” I went to the kitchen and dialed my parents' number.

“I need a ride to work,” I told my mom. “Can you or Dad take me?”

“Your father can pick you up,” my mom said. “He's driving the cab today, anyway. Are you still off dessert?”

“Yes. How about you?”

“It's amazing. I don't even have the slightest need to tipple now that the wedding is behind us and Valerie's in Disney World.”

Great. My mother doesn't need to tipple, and I'm so strung out with doughnut cravings I put Mr. Happy into a coma.

My dad showed up ten minutes later. “What's wrong with the Buick?” he said.

“Broken.”

“I figured you were worried it was booby-trapped.”

“Yep. That, too.”

Ranger was waiting for me when I arrived. He was in my cubby, slouched in the extra chair, reading through the files on Gorman, Lazar, Barroni, and Runion.

There was a new cell phone on my desk, plus a new key fob, and my Sig. The Sig was in a holster that clipped to a belt.

“They found them,” I said.

“I heard. How'd you get in to work?”

“My dad.”

"I have a bike set aside for you downstairs. If you park it exposed, be sure to look it over before getting on. It's hard to hide a bomb on a bike, but you still need to be careful. The key is on your keychain.

“As far as Rangeman is concerned, Gorman is found, and the file is closed,” Ranger said. “If you still think there's a connection between the murdered men and your stalker and you want to use this office to continue searching, you have permission to do that.”

I looked at my in-box and stifled a groan. It was packed with search requests.

Ranger followed my eyes. “You're going to have to divide your time and get through some of those files. They're not just from Rodriguez. You do the searches for everyone here, including me.”

He stood and brushed against me, and I had a wave of desire rush into my chest and shoot south.

“What?” Ranger said.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You moaned.”

“I was thinking of Butterscotch Krimpets.”

Our eyes locked for a long moment. “I'll be in my office the rest of the morning,” Ranger said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Oh boy.

I sorted through the requests that had come in over the weekend. Three were from Ranger. I'd do them first. He was the boss. And he was hot. One was from someone named Alvirez. The rest were Rodriguez.

Ranger's files were all standard searches. Nothing unusual. I had them done by noon. My plan was to get a quick lunch, run the Alvirez and two for Rodriguez, and then see what I could turn up at Fort Dix. I prowled through the kitchen, not finding anything inspiring to eat.

I settled on the turkey again and took it back to my cubicle with a bottle of water. I finished lunch, finished Alvirez and Rodriguez, and started surfing Fort Dix.

I called my mother, Morelli, Lula, and Valerie and told them I had a new cell phone. Valerie was in the Magic Kingdom and said she'd be home at the end of the week. They liked Florida, but the girls missed their friends, and Albert had broken out in hives when he was approached by a six-foot-tall, four-foot-wide Pooh Bear. Lula wasn't answering. I left a message. Morelli wasn't answering. I left a message. My mother invited me for dinner, and I declined.

It was midafternoon when Ranger returned to my cubby. I was pacing, unable to focus on anything beyond my need for a cupcake.

“Babe,” Ranger said. “You're looking a little strung out. Is there anything I should know?”

“I'm in sugar withdrawal. I've given up dessert, and it's all I can think about.” That had been true five minutes ago. Now that Ranger was standing in front of me I was thinking a cupcake wasn't what I actually wanted.

“Maybe I can help get your mind off doughnuts,” Ranger said.

My mouth dropped open, and I think some drool might have dribbled out.

“Did Silvio show you how to search the newspapers?” Ranger asked. No.

“Sit down and I'll show you how to get into the programs. It's tedious work, but it accesses a lot of information. You want to go to the local paper and look for something bad that happened when the four men were at Dix. An unsolved murder, a high-stakes robbery, unsolved serial crimes like multiple burglaries.”

“Morelli thinks there were five men involved. Originally, I thought Anthony Barroni was the fifth guy, but now I'm not sure. Is there a way to get a list of men who were in that unit at Dix?”

“I don't have access to those records. I could get someone to hack in but I'd rather not. It would be safer to have Morelli do it.”

I was hearing the words, but they weren't sticking. My brain was clogged with naked and sweaty Ranger thoughts.