14 Fearless Fourteen (24 page)

giving me a whole-hand fondle. He took a small receiver out of his
pocket, put the attached earbud into his ear, and stepped back.
”Push the button and switch it on.“ I felt along the battery pack
and pushed the button. ”Testing,“ I said. ”Mary had a little lamb.
Yada, yada, yada.“ ”Perfect,“ Morelli said. ”You're going to be
transmitting to the Fed.

Unfortunately, he won't be able to talk to you, so you'll have
to run with it.

If you feel like you're in trouble, do whatever you have to do.
It's okay if you abort.“ ”I'm a little weirded out,“ I said.
Morelli looked down at me. Serious. ”You don't have to do this.“
”Yes, I do.“ He kissed me on the forehead. ”You'll be fine.“ I went
to the window and watched him cross the lot to his car. He opened
the driver's side door, stood for a moment, and then slammed the
door shut without getting in. My window was closed, so I couldn't
hear what Morelli was saying, but clearly he was talking to
himself. He was waving his arms and pacing and his face was getting
red. He punched the car and stood hands on hips, staring down at
his shoes. I've seen him do this a million times. Getting a grip. I
called him on my cell. ”I'll be fine,“ I told him. ”This really
sucks,“ he said. And he got in his car and drove away. The storage
facility chosen by the Feds was down by the river, off Lamberton
Road. I took Hamilton and passed by the bonds office and the
hospital. I turned at the junction of South Broad and felt my way
around until I hit Lamberton. I was watching my mirror for a tail,
but I didn't pick one up. I turned onto a private road leading to a
small industrial park, and kept driving until I saw the sign for
the storage facility. The facility itself was about a half acre in
size and protected by a chain-link fence. The gate to the fence was
open. There was a one-room cinder-block building that served as
office. So far as I could see, the office was vacant. Beyond the
office were rows of storage lockers, each the size of a single-car
garage. I drove down the second row of lockers and stopped at
number 24. I got out of my car and looked around. Very quiet. No
sign of the fourth partner. No indication of police presence. I had
the wire switched on, but I wasn't saying anything. I walked to the
garage door, took a deep breath, and shoved the key in. The door
rolled up to reveal a dark maroon Econoline van with Pennsylvania
plates. I looked in the driver's side window. The key was in the
ignition, as promised. I wrenched the door open and climbed in. I
was feeling calmer now that everything was in motion. Piece of
cake, I said to myself. Cool as a cucumber. Wonder Woman on board.
I cranked the engine over, backed the van out, put my car in the
garage, and rolled the garage door down. I carefully drove the van
out of the storage facility, parked on the side of the road, and
dialed the number the fourth partner gave me. ”Long time no hear,“
he said. ”I had things to do. I had to look in on a skip.“ ”Is that
all you had to do?“ ”Pretty much.“ ”What about waiting for the
police to set the trap?“ ”Nope. Didn't do that.“ ”I told you I
would know. I know everything.“ ”Not everything,“ I said. ”I know
you've got phony money in the back of that phony Econoline. I know
you got the van out of a phony garage off Lamberton. I know you're
wired. Now, here's the deal. Hang the scarf in the window when
you're ready to make a trade without police involvement. If I don't
see the scarf by noon tomorrow, I'm cutting Loretta's hand off.“
”But I don't...“ He was gone. ”He knew,“ I said into the wire. ”He
knew the whole deal. You need to clean house. He's on the inside.“
I retraced MY route back to the garage and traded the van for my
car. Still no one walking around, but I knew police were planted
somewhere. I drove out of the industrial park and went straight to
Morelli's house. School was still in session. Just me and Bob at
home. I took the red scarf from the upstairs window and set it on
Morelli's desk. All the way home, I'd been boiling inside, seething
mad that this had gotten screwed up. I wanted it over and done. I
wanted Loretta to be safe. I was angry at Dom for running away from
me, and I was angry at the police that they couldn't manage a
secure operation. I sat in Morelli's chair and forced myself to
think. Who is this fourth partner? A cop? A computer whiz? A
professional crook? I looked at the red scarf. He wanted it hung
from the second-floor window. Why the second floor? Wouldn't it be
easier to see it from the first floor if you were walking or
driving past the house? I swiveled around and stared out the
window. The houses on the opposite side of the street were all
two-story, like Morelli's. Easy to see into their bedroom windows
from here. The convenient assumption would be that the partner
lived in one of these houses, but Morelli had already gone
door-to-door in his neighborhood and hadn't found anything odd. I
called Morelli, but got his voice mail. I called my mother, and got
my grandmother. She said my mother couldn't come to the phone
because she'd taken a pill and fallen asleep after seeing me
wrestling with the chicken on News at Noon. I called the office and
was transferred to Connie's cell. She was at the courthouse trying
to help resolve the Susan Stitch mess. My modus operandi when
investigating is, if you have no ideas... eat something. It doesn't
help to get ideas, but it passes the time. So I trekked downstairs
and nuked a tray of mac and cheese. This got me to feeling very
mellow, because it's impossible to stay upset while eating mac and
cheese. Here's the positive side, I told myself. You continue to
make little inroads on the fourth partner's identity. If you can't
find Dom and get your hands on the money, maybe you can find the
fourth partner. He's kind of full of himself, and that confidence
could be his undoing. I called Ranger. ”I want to get into Stanley
Zero's apartment again,“ I told him. ”That's a sealed crime scene,“
Ranger said. ”And?“ ”It would be safer if we went in at night.“ ”I
can wait.“ ”I'll meet you in his apartment parking lot at eleven.“
I reached the school just as it was letting out. Zook ambled over
to the car with his usual cluster of misfits and pulled the
passenger-side door open. He slouched into the seat, dropped his
backpack on the floor between his feet, and looked over at me. ”The
kids at school are talking.“ I gave the Sentra some gas and moved
into the stream of traffic. ”What are they saying?“ ”They're saying
my mom cut out on me. Like maybe she found the nine million and
took off with it.“ ”They're wrong.“ ”I sort of wouldn't blame her.
That's a lot of money.“ ”Your mom is okay. She's just not...
accessible right now.“ ”What's that mean?“ ”I can't tell you, but
we're trying to work it all out.“ He pushed his backpack around
with a foot that seemed way too big for his slim frame. He was like
a puppy that hadn't grown up to his feet yet. ”I'm not some dumb
little kid,“ he said. ”I deserve to know what's going on with my
mom.“ I turned onto Hamilton and slid a sideways glance at him. He
wasn't dumb, and he wasn't a little kid. He was a big kid. And he
had a point. He needed to know what was going on with his mom.
”You're right,“ I said. ”You deserve to know. But you can't tell
anyone. No one at school. Not Mooner. Not Gary. No one.“ He nodded
his head. ”Three men robbed the bank with your Uncle Dom. Two are
dead, and your uncle is in hiding. The fourth partner has your mom
and is holding her for ransom.

He wants the nine million dollars. Problem is, we don't have it,
and we don't know where it's located. The police are involved, and
we're making progress at getting your mom back, but you have to be
patient.“ ”That is so sucky,“ he said. ”You're right,“ I said on a
sigh. ”It is totally sucky.“ Mooner and Gary were waiting on
Morelli's front steps when I pulled to the curb with Zook. They
were dressed in Army fatigues, and they stood and saluted when I
parked the car. Zook and I burst out laughing. ”I know they're
goofy,“ I said to Zook, ”but I like them. They're in the moment.“ I
unlocked Morelli's front door, and Bob rushed out and ran around in
circles. He did some yelping and grunting, and then he hunched and
pooped out my underwear. ”Whoa,“ Mooner said. ”Victoria's Secret
colonic, dude. Far out.“ Bob ran back into the house the instant he
was done, and we all followed. Eventually, I'd come out in rubber
gloves and contamination suit and scoop up the deposit, but for now
I was walking away from it. ”Where did you get the clothes?“ I
asked Mooner. ”Army surplus. We got some for the Zookster, too.“
”We changed the patches,“ Gary said. ”We made them say “Homegrown
Security.”“ I got everyone settled in the living room with chips
and pretzels and sodas. I phoned for pizza. I asked about Zook's
homework. How bizarre was this? It was like running a day-care
facility. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? I mean, who am I? I was
raised to have traditional values, but I screwed up on my first
marriage big-time, I took an odd job, and now I love two men. One
is definite husband-and-father material. The other ... I don't know
what to think of the other. And now here I was, doing my ”mother
cat“ impersonation. The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. I
opened the door and didn't bother to hold back the grimace. It was
Brenda and her film crew. ”How about it?“ she said. ”Have you
thought of anything?“ ”No.“ ”Make something up. You've got an
imagination, right? This is the news. It doesn't have to be real.“
”I thought that was the whole purpose of the news... to report real
stuff.“ ”Oh puhleeze. You don't actually believe that crap. You
think we could get ratings with real stuff? The news people make up
entire wars. Listen, all you have to do is find something sexy to
say about the money. Like, “Tall, dark and handsome Morelli was
taking a nap, and he woke up and thought he heard a noise in the
yard, so he rushed out naked and tackled some guy who was digging
with a shovel, and Morelli saw a couple hundred-dollar bills
sticking out of the ground.”“ Brenda smiled. ”See? It's
easy."

“I'd like to help you, but I don't think I could pull that
off.”

“Of course, you can. Look at me. I can do it, and I'm not that
good. I'm just motivated. I've got a three-million-dollar house in
Brentwood with a mortgage big enough to choke a horse.” She looked
at the guys on the couch. “Is that Gary?”

Gary waved at her. “I'm lurking.”

“No shit,” she said. “What's with the uniform? Did you join the
Army?”

“Homegrown Security,” Gary said. “I'm a gunnery
officer.”

“Great,” Brenda said. “Perfect. A gunnery officer. That makes me
feel real safe.”

“Yeah, but you still have to watch out for the pizza,” Gary
said.

Brenda's face brightened. “Maybe I could do a feature on
stalkers. We could film you stalking me,” she said to
Gary.

“I appreciate the offer, but no, thanks,” Gary said. “I haven't
got time to stalk right now. I promised the guys I'd lurk, and I'm
on standby with Homegrown.”

Brenda narrowed her eyes at Mooner. “You stole my
stalker.”

“No way, the Mooner doesn't steal. He, like, borrows sometimes,
but he's got a code. He's protecting his oneness.”

“Oneness, my ass,” Brenda said. “I could own you like a cheap
suit.”

“Whoa,” Mooner said. “Have you been talking to the wood
elves?”

The soundman was standing behind Brenda. “If we don't get film
to the studio soon, we'll miss our spot.”

“I'm not missing my spot,” Brenda said, turning from me and
storming off the porch.

I closed the door and peeked out the living room window at her.
She was standing over Bob's poo while the cameraman zoomed in for a
closer look.

“And here we have a suspicious substance on Joe Morelli's front
lawn,” Brenda said into her mic. “It would appear that the dog in
this household has been fed a thong. Clearly a case for
investigation by...” She looked over at the soundman. “Who
investigates this shit?”

Lula was ON my cell phone. “I'm two minutes away,” she said. “Be
out front. I'm in a consultation for my wedding gown, and I need an
opinion. You gotta go back to the bride store with
me.”

“Okay, but I can't stay away too long. I don't like leaving Zook
on his own.”

“Don't he have Homegrown Security with him?”

“Yeah, that's part of the problem.”

I grabbed my purse, told everyone I'd be back soon and I was on
my cell if an emergency arose, and I ran out of the house. The
Firebird careened around the corner and slid to a stop in front of
me. Lula was behind the wheel in a silky bathrobe.

“I got a hour appointment with these bitches,” she said, “and
the clock's ticking.”

“You're in a bathrobe.”

“It took less time than getting back in my
clothes.”

I fastened my seat belt and we rocketed away. “I thought you
were having second thoughts about marrying an
alcoholic.”

“Yeah, but I had this appointment, and I didn't want to lose it.
I might have to wait weeks to get another appointment. I mean, even
if I don't marry Tank, chances are good I'll marry someone else
someday. Might as well get the gown, I figure.”

“You might want to rethink that plan.”

“Yeah, it's insane, right? It's that I have momentum. You see
what I'm saying? It's all in motion and it don't stop. Turns out,
that's how it is with weddings. You just keep getting in deeper and
deeper until you want to throw up.”

Lula hooked a left, cut across traffic, and zipped into the
small parking lot that attached to the bridal salon. We got out and
hurried into the showroom.

“You sit down, and I'll put the gown on,” Lula
said.

I was halfway through a magazine when she rustled out of the
dressing room.

The gown was brilliant white satin and fit like skin from Lula's
ankles to her armpits. It was strapless and had a bustle in the
back over her ass and a twelve-foot train that stretched out behind
her.