14 Fearless Fourteen (15 page)

“No. It was an accident. What's up?”

“I had the toilet dream again, only this time a bull came
charging down the southbound lane, right at Brenda.”

“Jeez. What happened then?”

“I woke up.” His attention shifted to Mooner and Zook. “Are they
playing Minionfire? What's their PC?”

“Zook and Moondog.”

“Are you kidding me? They're famous. Zook is like a god. He's a
Blybold Wizard.”

Gary inched his way in and stood behind the couch, watching over
Zook's shoulder. “Feel the power,” Gary said. “The dragon's coming.
There he is! There he is! Go arcane.”

Zook turned and looked at him. “How did you know the dragon was
coming?”

“Ever since I got hit by lightning, things happen in my head
before they happen on the screen. It's like I'm a step ahead of
cable, and I'm way faster than dial-up.”

“Whoa,” Zook and Mooner said, eyes glued to Gary.

Zook looked over at me. “You're blue.”

“It's a long story.”

“Who's your PC?” Mooner asked Gary.

“I haven't got one. I just lurk. I thought it wasn't fair for me
to play with the lightning advantage.”

“Far out,” Mooner said. “A dude with honor.”

Morelli ambled in. “We need to go to your parents' now.” He
checked out Gary.

“Is this the stalker?”

Gary extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said to
Morelli.

“Everyone sign off,” I said. “We're going to my parents' house
for dinner.”

My grandmother opened the door, and we all marched in. Zook,
Mooner, Gary, Morelli, me, and Bob.

“You better set more plates,” Grandma yelled to my mother in the
kitchen. “We got a group.”

My father was in the living room, dozing in front of the
television. He picked his head up and looked at everyone standing
in the foyer. He mumbled something that sounded a little like
friggin' mutants and went back to napping.

Bob bounced around, doing his happy dance.

“Isn't he something,” Grandma said. She patted his head, and Bob
took off for the kitchen.

A moment later, my mother shrieked, and Bob bounded out of the
kitchen and streaked through the dining room with a ham firmly
clenched in his mouth. He skidded to a stop in front of my father
and dropped the ham.

My grandmother ran in and scooped the ham up off the floor.
“Thirty-second rule in effect,” my grandmother said, returning the
ham to the kitchen. There was the sound of water running, and
moments later, my grandmother reappeared with the ham on a plate.
“Dinners ready,” she said. “Everyone sit.”

We dragged extra chairs to the table, and I shuffled plates and
silverware around. Bob took his place under the table, ever on
guard for food to fall out of someone's mouth onto the
rug.

My mother brought in creamed corn, green beans with bacon, and
mashed potatoes. She got to the table, looked at me, and her mouth
dropped open.

“Booby-trapped attache case,” I said. “No big
deal.”

She set the side dishes on the table and made the sign of the
cross. “Dear God,” she said. And she returned to the kitchen. I
heard the cabinet door creak open and moments later, my mother
returned with a glass of whiskey.

“Isn't this nice,” my grandmother said. “It feels like a party.
We even got the stalker here.”

My mother tossed some whiskey down her throat.

“Stalker?” my father said, mashed potato bowl in
hand.

“Yep,” Grandma said. “He's a genuine stalker. He's even got a
restraining order against him.”

My father considered that for a beat and went back to filling
his plate.

Clearly, he didn't find a stalker to be especially interesting.
Now, if Gary had been a cross-dresser, my father would have had
something to work with.

“So how's the treasure hunt going?” Grandma asked Morelli. “Did
you find all that money yet?”

This got everyone's attention.

My mother had a grip on her whiskey glass. “What
money?”

“I guess I'm the only one who watches television,” Grandma said.
“The early news ran a piece on the dead guy in Morelli's
basement.”

“Why don't I know about this?” my mother asked.

“I guess I forgot to tell you, being that I was so busy
answering all the phone calls,” Grandma said.

“You didn't kill him, did you?” my mother asked
me.

“No! I just discovered the body.”

“The dead guy's name was Allen Gratelli,” Grandma said.
“Stephanie broke into his car and found his suitcase, and that's
how she got blue. And it turns out Allen Gratelli and Dominic Rizzi
were friends, and the television reporter said Allen Gratelli was
in Morelli's basement looking for all that money that was never
recovered from the robbery. Nine million dollars, and Joseph's Aunt
Rose, rest in peace, hid it somewhere and now everyone's looking
for it.”

“Sweet,” Mooner said. “You could get high-def TiVo with nine
million dollars.”

“I could get a lawyer for my mom,” Zook said.

“I could get a sports car,” Grandma said.

“You don't have a driver's license,” my mother told
her.

“I could get a driver,” Grandma said. “A hot
one.”

My father had his head down, shoveling in ham. My father would
like to see the hot driver deliver Grandma Mazur to the old
people's home in Hamilton Township.

“Maybe I could find the money,” Gary said. “I could divine
it.”

“Dude,” Mooner said. “That would be awesome. Can you, like,
really do that?”

“I found a chicken salad sandwich once. I found it in my sock
drawer,” Gary said.

“Badass,” Mooner said. “Wicked cool.”

“What are you doing now?” Grandma asked Mooner. “Are you still
involved in the pharmaceutical industry?”

“I mostly gave that up. I was getting stiff competition from the
Russians. I've been reviewing my options, and I thought I might
open a Japanese teahouse. Either that or a nudie
bar.”

My father picked his head up. “Don't you need money to open a
nudie bar?”

“Yeah, dude, isn't that a bummer? Where's the justice? I mean,
where's the incentive for the little businessman?”

“I think you should open a nudie bar for women,” Grandma said.
“There's lots of bars for men where they can see naked women, but
there's no place us women can go to see ding dongs.”

“I dig it,” Mooner said. “You want private parts parity. Far
out.”

My mother chugged the rest of her whiskey.

Morelli was slouched back in his chair, taking it all in. He
draped an arm across my shoulders and whispered into my ear. “Do
women really want to see ding dongs?”

“Yeah,” I said, “as long as they don't have to touch
them.”

“Is it sexual?”

“No. Morbid curiosity.”

“How about mine?” he asked.

“Yours is definitely sexual... and touchable.”

He nuzzled my neck. “Can we go home now?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“We haven't had dessert. And besides, I feel funny shazaming
with Zook in the house.”

“We could shazam in the garage.” “I don't think so.” “The SUV?”
“No!”

“I'm becoming more motivated to find Loretta,” Morelli
said.

It was a little after eight when Morelli pulled to the curb in
front of his house. A small crowd was gathered on the sidewalk,
watching two men dig in Morelli's tiny front yard. Morelli got out
of his car and joined the onlookers.

“Excuse me,” Morelli said to the guys digging. “What are you
doing?”

“Digging,” the one guy said.

“This is private property,” Morelli said.

“What?”

“Private property.”

“I think there's something about digging,” the guy said. “Like
people only own the top of the property.”

“I think you're wrong,” Morelli said.

The guy kept digging. “And why would I give a rat's ass what you
think?”

“Because I own this house, and if you don't stop digging, I'm
going to have you arrested for destruction of personal
property.”

“Look at me-I'm so scared,” the guy said. “Call the cops. Call
the cops on me.”

Morelli badged him. “I am the cops.”

The guy looked at Morelli's badge. “Oh. Sorry.”

Everyone dispersed after that, and Morelli, Zook, Mooner, Gary,
and I trooped into the house. Morelli walked straight through and
swore when he looked out his back window. His backyard was filled
with people digging, and his garage door was open.

“This is unbelievable,” Morelli said.

“Dude,” Mooner said. “You should sell tickets. Like, it would be
a hundred dollars to dig for a half hour. We could be, like, rich,
dude.”

Morelli walked out his back door, unholstered his gun, fired a
shot into the ground, and the diggers scattered like roaches when
the light goes on. He crossed the yard to his garage and returned
with a roll of yellow crime scene tape.

“Do you think that's going to help?” I asked him.

“Its worth a try.”

Ten minutes later, Morelli's entire property was behind the
yellow tape. Zook, Mooner, and Gary were in the living room making
deals with the wood elves, and Morelli and I were sitting out on
the back stoop, watching Bob sniff around the holes in his
yard.

“I'm going to have to jackhammer my basement,” Morelli said.
“This isn't going to stop until we find the money.”

“If we found the money, Loretta might even turn
up.”

“I wouldn't count on it. I think Dom did the time and figured he
didn't owe his partners anything. Problem was, for whatever reason,
Dom couldn't put his hands on the money right away.”

“Maybe because it was buried in Rose's basement and you came
along and inherited the house and poured concrete down
there.”

“Yeah. And it keeps getting worse. Dom's nephew is living in
this house, so he can't just blow it up, and thanks to the early
news, half of Trenton is on a nine-million-dollar scavenger
hunt.”

“And Loretta?”

“I'm guessing Loretta is being held hostage by one or both of
the partners until Dom forks over the money. I'd feel a lot better
if we could get to her before the money is found. There's no
guarantee she won't be disposed of the instant she's no longer
useful.”

“We need to get Dom,” I said. “He can take us to the other two
partners.”

“Any ideas?”

“I'm sure he's worried about his nephew. He hates the thought
that Zook is with you. Plus, he wants him away from this house. And
maybe he's thinking there's a possibility that whoever has Loretta
will decide to hedge his bets and snatch Zook, too. So I think Dom
isn't far away. I think he's keeping his eye on the house and on
Zook. He's only been out of jail for a week, and he doesn't have a
job. We know he hasn't got a lot of money.”

“He has a gun,” Morelli said.

“True. And a car.”

“The car he was driving belongs to his mother. We found it
abandoned.”

“Where's he sleeping? Is he sneaking back into his mother's
house?”

“No. We've been doing random checks,” Morelli
said.

“It's warm enough to sleep outdoors. Just another street person
if he migrated downtown.”

“Yes, but he has a rifle. It would make him conspicuous if he
carried it with him.”

Bob was digging in one of the holes. He had his head below
ground level and dirt was flying between his hind
legs.

“I think Dom's in the neighborhood, waiting for a chance to get
into the house,” I said. “So maybe we can set a trap. Make it look
like no one's home, but you could be in a closet or something,
waiting to jump out and capture Dom.”

“Gee, that sounds like lots of fun.”

“You have a better plan?”

Morelli blew out a sigh. “No.”

Morelli woke me up out of a sound sleep. “Did you hear that?” he
whispered.

“I was sleeping. I didn't hear anything.”

“Shush,” he said. “Listen.”

It was warm and the windows were open. The white gauzy curtain
still left from Aunt Rose moved on a gentle breeze.

“There,” he said. “Did you hear it?”

“It sounds like someone's digging.”

“What does it take to discourage these idiots?”

“I don't know, but I don't care if they're digging. Go back to
sleep.”

“I can't go to sleep,” Morelli said. “This is making me
nuts.”

He rolled out of bed and moved toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going to shoot the digger.”

“That's not a good idea. Not to mention, you're
naked.”

“The digger won't care. He'll be concentrating on his bullet
hole.”

“You needed a new lawn anyway,” I said to him. “Think of this as
soil preparation.”

He found a pair of boxers and pulled them on. “How's this? Does
this meet your dress code for shooting trespassers?”

I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed some clothes off the
floor. “Let's at least see who's out there before you shoot them.
If we're lucky, it'll be Dom. Do you have a
flashlight?”

“In the kitchen.”

We padded downstairs and tiptoed through the dark house. I found
the flashlight, and Morelli had his Clock in hand. We stood in the
pitch-black kitchen and looked out the window. Someone was clearly
digging in the backyard, but it was too dark to see much of
anything.

“Okay,” Morelli said. “On the count of three, I'm going to open
the door, and you shine the flashlight on this bastard. One, two...
three!”

Morelli yanked the back door open, and I hit the button on the
flashlight and caught the digger in the act.

“Good God,” Morelli said.

It was Grandma Mazur.

“Howdy,” Grandma said. “Hope I didn't wake you.”

“Of course you woke us,” I said. “It's two in the morning. What
the heck are you doing?”

“I felt lucky,” Grandma said.

“I don't think the money is buried in the backyard,” Morelli
told her.

“That's okay,” she said. “I still feel lucky. It isn't everyday
I get to see a man in his underwear.”