Top Secret Twenty-One (7 page)

“How long is that going to be?” Lula asked.

The cop didn’t know.

A news service helicopter hovered over the building.
Rangeman would be on the evening news. Ranger would hate that.

“I don’t get how something could contaminate this building,” Lula said. “This building is scary secure.”

I called Morelli.

“I’m idling at a barricade to Ranger’s street,” I said. “The whole street is blocked off, and there’s an eighteen-wheeler crime scene lab parked here. I’ve never
seen
an eighteen-wheeler crime scene lab. What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk now,” Morelli said. “I’ll meet you for lunch at Pino’s. Twelve o’clock.” And he disconnected.

Lula looked over at me. “Well? What’s going on?”

“He couldn’t talk.”

“Did he say if it was terrorists?”

“No, but I think it’s unlikely terrorists would target Ranger’s building.”

“This is killing me,” Lula said. “I hate when I don’t know stuff.”

It was killing me too. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. Something really bad had happened here. I was worried about Ranger. And I was worried about his men.

I drove away from the crime scene, turned at the next corner, and cut across town to Stark. As long as I was sort of in the neighborhood it wouldn’t hurt to check on Buster, and it would take my mind off Ranger. It was midmorning and the pizza place was filled with people. The area around it looked normal. No sign of police activity. I parked half a block away,
on the opposite side of the street, and I watched the building while Lula and Briggs went to get pizza.

I tapped in Buster’s number, and he answered on the second ring. I introduced myself, and he hung up. I tried again, and he didn’t pick up. I ran across the street and banged on his door. Nothing. The door was locked.

Lula and Briggs joined me. Lula was carrying a large pizza box.

“We got a whole pie,” Lula said. “They were having a half-price sale.”

We backed up on the sidewalk and looked at the second-floor windows. No moving shadows. No television sounds drifting down to us.

“Did you try knocking on the door?” Lula asked.

“Yep.”

“Then I’m guessing nobody is home, and we should go eat our pizza.”

I didn’t want to drag Lula and Briggs along on my lunch date, so I dropped Lula at the office and took Briggs to my parents’ house.

“Just in time for lunch,” Grandma said, opening the front door.

“I can’t stay,” I told her, “but I was hoping I could leave Randy here.”

“I suppose that would be okay,” Grandma said. “How long do we have to keep him?”

“An hour or two.”

“As long as you pick him up by three o’clock. Your mother has a dentist appointment, and I’m getting my hair done for the viewing tonight. It’s going to be a good viewing what with all the scandal. The place will be packed. And people are going to be hoping to get a showing from Jimmy.”

Grandma and her lady friends went to viewings four days out of seven, whether they knew the deceased or not. The funeral home served cookies, was filled with flowers, and was the Burg’s premier place to be seen and swap gossip.

“I doubt Jimmy will make an appearance,” I said to Grandma. “And I can’t see him going to the funeral either. He’d be instantly arrested.”

“Well, I’m going anyway,” she said. “There’s nothing on television but reruns.”

“I’m going too. Even if Jimmy isn’t there, the place will be filled with friends and relatives. Do you need a ride?”

“Sure, I could use a ride. You could come for dinner, and we could go together. Your mother is making pot roast tonight, with chocolate cake for dessert.”

“I
love
pot roast and chocolate cake,” Briggs said.

“I guess he could eat here too,” Grandma said.

“You have to behave yourself,” I said to Briggs. “No growling, biting, or kicking.”

“Yeah, we don’t give out chocolate cake to biters,” Grandma said.

“Jeez,” Briggs said. “You make me sound like an animal.”

I set my hands on my hips and looked down at him.

“Okay,” he said. “I might have done some of those things in the past, but they were justified. I gotta compensate for my size. It’s not like I can punch a guy in the nose.”

“That’s true,” Grandma said. “He has a point.”

“Thanks,” Briggs said. “You’re all right for an old lady.”

“I’m not so old,” Grandma said. “I got some good years left.”

I had my hand on the door handle. “I have to go,” I said to Grandma. “Put the television on for him. Cartoons or something. And don’t give him the remote or he’ll sign up for porn.”

“Those porn films have the best titles,” Grandma said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some of them. I bought one once, but it was all naked girls and I wanted to see naked men.”

Morelli was already seated at a table when I walked into Pino’s. Pino’s is the restaurant of choice for most of the cops. It’s got a good bar, a small side room with a handful of tables, and a menu heavy on pizza and Italian American comfort food.

I sat across from him and glanced at the menu. It was a formality, because I knew the menu by heart. I’d been eating at Pino’s for years, and the menu never changed.

“Meatball sub,” I told the waitress. “And a Coke.”

“Same for me,” Morelli said.

He was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a plaid shirt with
the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was about four weeks overdue for a cut, curling over his ears and at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were serious, but there was a sensual softness to his mouth. He looked like the movie star version of an undercover cop.

“Did you leave Briggs locked in the car?” he asked.

“No. I dropped him off at my parents’ house.”

“I was afraid I’d be eating lunch with him.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Morelli grinned. “What
would
you do to me?”

“All sorts of good things,” I said.

“And what can I do to you?” he asked.

“I have a list.”

“Am I going to get to walk my fingers down that list anytime soon?”

“As soon as I capture Poletti and get rid of Briggs.”

Morelli ate part of a breadstick. “I’m working on it. I have my own reasons for wanting to talk to Poletti.”

“Any leads?”

He shook his head. “No leads, but his wife invited me to come back anytime.”

“So it wasn’t a total loss?”

Another grin. “I’m saving myself for you.”

I mostly believed him, but truth is, Morelli just about leaks excess testosterone from his pores. We have a tense relationship that skirts permanent commitment but acknowledges the “L” word. I’m careful not to question him too closely on his sex life beyond our relationship, because if I ever found out he was
sleeping with someone else I’d have to kill her. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t kill her, but I’d certainly buy out the candy aisle at 7-Eleven, eat it all, and throw up.

“Let’s change the subject,” I said. “Tell me about Ranger.”

“Ranger had Emilio Gardi in custody, waiting for extradition to Miami. Gardi apparently had some very bad stuff with him that he was going to use to take out Ranger and his whole operation. Something went wrong, and Gardi accidentally took the hit. One of the Rangeman guys is also pretty sick, but everyone else got out in time.”

“Gardi was a setup?”

“Looks that way. I don’t know all the details. The feds aren’t releasing any information on the contaminant, but Gardi and the Rangeman guy are in isolation and being treated for radiation poisoning. And the first responders said Gardi was screaming about polonium, begging for medical help.”

“What’s polonium?”

“I don’t know exactly. I didn’t have time to Google it, but I’m told it’s the stuff some speculate killed Yasser Arafat. Supposedly it’s not a nice death.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Yeah. Probably you’re going to be too creeped out to sleep tonight and you’re going to need a big strong guy like me to keep you safe.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you make all this up just so I’d sleep with you?”

“No. I’m not that clever, but I
am
getting desperate, so let me know if it’s working.”

“I have Briggs to protect me.”

“I hear some sarcasm there, but I know Briggs, and he’s a mean little bastard. I wouldn’t underestimate him in a bar fight.”

Our food arrived, and we dug in.

“This doesn’t add up for me,” I finally said. “I was under the impression that Ranger and Gardi hadn’t met prior to Gardi’s arrest. Why was Gardi trying to take down Rangeman?”

“I imagine Gardi was working for someone. When it all went down, someone at Rangeman hit the big red button and the call simultaneously brought in the feds, the hazmat team, and Trenton first responders. The feds immediately took over and put a lid on any information coming from Gardi. I’m surprised you don’t know more from Ranger.”

“I spoke to him briefly, but he couldn’t talk.”

“I’m sure he’s scrambling, trying to keep his business running without his control room.”

And knowing Ranger, he was on the hunt for whoever’d sent Gardi.

“How long do you think he’ll be out of the building?” I asked Morelli.

“No one’s saying. This is the tightest security I’ve ever seen. Everyone’s walking around with their ass clenched.”

Welcome to my world. My sphincter isn’t exactly relaxed. Ranger has lots of enemies, and he sits with his back to the wall, so I’ve become used to a certain element of danger that always surrounds him. This was a whole other deal. This was stone cold scary.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” I asked.

“Paperwork. And I want to walk around Buster’s backyard. We still haven’t found the murder weapon.”

“I have my theory.”

Morelli finished his Coke and sat back in his chair. “I bet we both have the same theory.”

“I’m thinking Poletti isn’t the killer.”

“Yeah, it’s worth throwing into the mix. He could have let himself into the apartment for whatever reason, found another dead poker player, left in a panic, and ran into you on the way out.”

“Buster was in Atlantic City, so who else has a key?”

Morelli signaled for the check. “Turns out lots of people had keys, including Scootch.”

“Did you talk to Miriam Pepper?” I asked Morelli.

“I did. She was completely hammered at one in the afternoon. And I got a better offer from her than I did from Poletti’s wife.”

“Let me guess. She offered you a Manhattan.”

Morelli pushed back from the table. “I was inches from taking it.”

I LEFT MORELLI
, drove back to my parents’ house, and retrieved Briggs.

“I got to take a look at tonight’s cake,” he said. “It’s awesome. Chocolate cake and chocolate frosting. And the frosting is real thick.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t carve off a chunk when no one was watching.”

“Someone was always watching. What are we doing now?”

“I don’t know. I’m at a dead end with Poletti.”

“If you haven’t got anything special to do, maybe we could drive past my apartment. The last time I saw it, fire trucks were all over the place and it was still smoking.”

I rolled out of the Burg and followed Hamilton to Grand Avenue. I parked across the street from Briggs’s building, and we looked over at it in silence. It was an ugly redbrick building
built in the fifties. Three stories. Briggs lived on the second floor, and it was clear which apartment was his. The windows had been blown out in the explosion and were now patched with plywood. Thick black soot stained the brick on the second and third floors. The building’s front door was open, and hoses snaked out and dumped grimy gray water into the gutter. Two fire restoration vans were parked at the curb.

“Do you want to go in?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “I just wanted to take a look at the building. No point going in. I got a call from the insurance adjuster, and he said there was nothing left. He said the explosion blew a hole in the ceiling, and the fire spread to the third floor. Lucky no one was home there, either. No one got hurt.”

“Sorry about your apartment,” I said. “It’s hard to lose all your stuff like that.”