Lean Mean Thirteen (14 page)

"So wassup?" Rufus asked.

Ranger didn't say anything. He just stared at Rufus. Rufus made a little flick with his hand and the three idiots left the apartment.

"Sit," Rufus said to Ranger.

Ranger sat, and I stood. I was the muscle in the room.

"I'm thinking about retaining some counsel," Ranger said. "I'm looking at Petiak, Smullen, Gorvich, and Orr."

"Good firm," Rufus said.

"Why is it good?"

"Discreet. Got a good business ethic."

"And?"

"Understands the barter system. You sure you don't want a sandwich?"

"I want to know more about the barter system," Ranger said.

"Why?"

Ranger didn't say anything. He didn't blink. He didn't smile. He didn't sigh. He just silently stared at Rufus.

"Good thing I like you," Rufus said to Ranger, "because you could improve on your social skills. You're not exactly a fun guy. Anyone ever tell you that?" Ranger cut his eyes to me and then back to Rufus.

"The barter system is where you trade some shit for other shit," Rufus said. "Wait a minute. Maybe I don't mean the barter system. What is it when you say you're paying for legal advice, but you're really paying for inventory?"

"Lying," Ranger said.

"Yeah, that's what those assholes understand… lying."

Ranger reached forward and took the bottle of champagne off the coffee table and refilled Caine's glass. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

'What's your angle?"

"No angle," Ranger said. "Like I told you, I'm looking to retain counsel and I like the firm. I'm just having a hard time finding someone to talk to. No one's answering the phone."

"Do you have something to… barter?"

"You want to stay away from Jimmy Monster. He's wearing a wire."

"Ow."

"And?" Ranger said.

"I'm meeting Victor Gorvich tonight. He has a package for me. We used to make the drop at a warehouse, but the warehouse burned down, so I'm seeing him at ten at Domino's."

"The strip club on Third Street?"

"That's the one. Just make sure my business is concluded before you move in." Ranger stood. "Be careful," he said to Rufus.

"Fuck that," Rufus said.

We were a couple blocks away from the apartment building when my cell phone rang.

"I can't talk long," Morelli said. "I just wanted to pass some information on to you. The guy in the warehouse was identified by his wedding band and key ring. It was Peter Smullen."

"Holy crap.

"The guy in the warehouse was Peter Smullen," I said to Ranger.

'Who are you talking to?" Morelli asked.

"Ranger."

"You're with Ranger?"

"You told him to take care of me."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean-"

"I'm getting static," I said to Morelli. "Hello? Hello?" And I disconnected. "He needed a moment to collect himself," I said to Ranger.

"Understandable."

"Let's recap," I said to Ranger. "First the law firm's accountant goes swimming with the fishes. Then Dickie gets dragged out of his house. And now Peter Smullen is dead." My cell phone rang again.

"We got cut off," Morelli said.

"Cell phones," I said. "Go figure."

"I wanted to tell you Marty Gobel might want to talk to you again. Smullen s secretary said Smullen was supposed to meet with you the night he disappeared."

"Are you suggesting I might be under suspicion for Smullen's murder?"

"You have an alibi, right?"

I hung up and slouched in my seat. "Smullen s secretary told the police I was supposed to meet with Smullen the night he disappeared."

Ranger hooked a U-turn on Broad. "Lets see what Smullen s girlfriend has to say about all this."

We passed Joyce, who was now going in the wrong direction in her rented white Taurus.

"I used to be such a badass," Ranger said. "Everyone was afraid of me. Everyone wanted to kill me. I needed Tank walking behind me to keep the paid assassins under control. And now look at me. I'm followed by a woman in a rented Taurus." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "And I can't remember the last time someone tried to kill me."

"It wasn't that long ago," I said. "It was in my apartment, and you got shot a bunch of times, and it wasn't all that much fun.

"Not to change the subject, but if I understood the conversation back there, Victor Gorvich is supplying Rufus with drugs."

Ranger turned off Broad and drove toward the projects. "Not only is he supplying drugs, he's laundering the money through the firm. He's billing Rufus for legal advice when Rufus is actually paying him for inventory. If you look at the client list you lifted, it's a shopping cart filled with the World s Most Wanted. Not just drug dealers, but gunrunners and agents for dictators. One or more of the partners is shuffling drugs around and washing the money as billable hours."

"Gorvich, for sure."

"Looks that way."

Ranger parked curbside at the law firms slum apartment building, and we both got out. Ranger took a remote gizmo, aimed it at the Porsche, and the Porsche chirped. We hoofed it up to the top floor and rang the bell. No answer. We rang it again, and Uncle Mickey stuck his head out his door.

"She isn't there," Uncle Mickey said. "She went shopping." He looked at Ranger and retreated into his apartment.

Ranger took his little tool out of a pocket on his cargo pants and opened the apartment door.

Smullen s apartment had been freshly painted and carpeted. The furniture was new. The kitchen appliances were new. The countertop was Corian. The building was a slum, but Smullens apartment was not. Smullens toilet worked.

Smullen s clothes were hanging in the closet and neatly folded in bureau drawers. His toiletries were still in the bathroom. I checked pants pockets for the bug, but didn't find it. I walked out of the bedroom and caught Ranger at the living room window, looking down. He was standing hands on hips, watching two men direct a flatbed tow truck up to the Porsche. His car alarm was wailing away, and the men were ignoring it. Ranger unlocked and raised the window, unholstered his gun, took aim, and shot one of the men in the leg. The guy crumpled onto the pavement and rolled around, holding his leg. The flatbed driver jumped out and helped drag the wounded guy into the truck, and they drove away. Ranger aimed his gizmo at his car and silenced the alarm.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked. "You got to shoot someone today."

"I've still got the touch," Ranger said.

"Smullen's clothes are here, but I didn't find the bug. Did you come up with anything interesting?"

"No. He doesn't have a home office. Not even a laptop squirreled away somewhere." The lock tumbled on the front door, and Smullen s girlfriend pushed into the apartment. She had a brown grocery bag in the crook of her arm, and she was out of breath from the stairs.

"What the fuck is this?" she said to Ranger and me.

"We came to visit, but you weren't home," I said to her. She cut her eyes to Ranger. "Who s the hot guy? Is he a cop?"

"No. He's Ranger."

‹cWhy s he dressed like a cop? What is this, Halloween and no one told me?" I glanced back at Ranger. "You aren't going to shoot her, are you?"

"Thinking about it."

"Was Peter involved in anything shady at work?" I asked her.

"Sure. He was a lawyer."

"I mean really shady. Like illegal. Trafficking in drugs, for instance." She set the bag on the kitchen counter. "I don't think so. Why would he do something like that? He was making a fortune just being a lawyer."

"Did he have another office somewhere? I noticed he doesn't have a home office here."

"He works at the law office. What's the deal, anyway? I'm calling the cops. You jerk-offs broke into my apartment. Hey, wait a minute. You aren't going to kidnap me, are you?

Omigod, you've got Peter, right? That's why he hasn't come home. You've got Peter! Help!" she yelled. "Help! Police!"

"Go ahead," I said to Ranger. "Shoot her."

"We aren't going to kidnap you," Ranger said. "And we didn't kidnap Peter Smullen. In fact, we have some very bad news for you."

"Help!" she yelled. "Help! Help!"

Ranger looked at me. "You have any ideas besides shoot her?"

"I love your boots," I said to her. "Vuitton, right?" She looked down at the boots. Knee-high, black leather, stacked heel. "Yeah," she said.

"They cost a fortune, but I had to have them. I got a bag to match. You want to see the bag?"

"Sure."

She went into the bedroom and came back with the bag. "This is the shit, right?" she said.

"It looks great on you. You can carry a big bag like that," I told her. "It's a to-die-for bag. And speaking of dying… Peter Smullen is dead."

"Waddaya mean, he's dead?"

"He was caught in a fire in a warehouse last night and he died. I'm so sorry," I told her.

"How do you know?"

"It was made public this morning/'

She was deer-in-the-headlights for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"He was identified by his wedding band and his key ring."

"Sonovabitch. All that money and I was so close to getting my hands on it, and the jackass had to get himself toasted in a fucking warehouse. Life is so unfair." Her eyes darted around the room. "This apartment belongs to the law firm," she said. "I need a truck! Do you have a truck?"

"No."

"We'll have to rent one."

"Uh, actually, we have to be moving along," I said. "Like to stay, but…" Ranger was at the door.

"Uncle Mickey lives across the hall," I told her. "He can get you a truck." I followed Ranger down the stairs and out of the building. I was about to get into the Porsche when I spotted Joyce half a block away.

"Be right back," I said to Ranger.

I jogged down to Joyce and leaned in her car window. "Peter Smullen is dead," I said. "He was killed in a warehouse fire last night. His girlfriend lives in that building we just left. She's on the top floor. We couldn't get any information out of her, but you might want to try."

"Are you shitting me?"

"No. Swear to God." I jogged back to Ranger and slid into the passenger seat. "I think I got rid of Joyce for a while."

TWELVE

Ranger and I were in his den watching a basketball game.

"Hows your leg?" he asked.

"It's a little sore."

"I need to leave for Domino's. Do you want to come with me or would you rather stay here?"

"I'll go with you."

He looked at my V-neck sweater with the RangeMan logo embroidered in purple. "Do you have something to wear that doesn't say RangeMan?"

"No. Even my underwear has your name on it."

"It's Ella. She got a machine that stitches the logo, and she can't control herself. She puts it on everything." He stood. "I'm going to change. I'll be ready to go in a minute." I'd been to Domino's once before. Lula and I made an apprehension there last spring. It was a typical titty bar with a raised stage and pole dancers. I was told it had a back room for lap dances, but Lula and I didn't get back there. Our man was at the bar, stuffing money into Gstrings. Ranger had changed into black jeans and a long-sleeved, collared black shirt that he wore out to hide his gun.

"Do you have money for the girls?" I asked him.

"I try not to hand money out at strip bars. Its like feeding stray cats. Once you feed them, they never go away."

"Yes, but I'll be there to protect you this time."

Ranger held my jacket for me. "I usually rely on Tank, but tonight the job is yours." We took the elevator to the garage, and Ranger chose a black Explorer over one of his private cars. Easier to blend. Domino's was just ten minutes away from Range-Man. For that matter, everything was ten minutes from RangeMan. Ranger had placed his security company in a good location. If an alarm went off anywhere in Trenton, RangeMan was there in ten minutes or less.

On weekends, Domino's rocked. It was filled to capacity with bachelor parties and couples out for fun. On a Monday night, it was half empty, and there was no problem getting a table. Ranger steered us to a dark corner where he could put his back to the wall. Most of the men were at the bar that surrounded the dance platform. A bunch of sad regulars and some out-oftown businessmen who'd straggled in from the hotels on Route One. Tonight, I was the only woman.

The music was loud. Disco. The two women onstage were in four-inch stilettos and dental floss. They looked like they wouldn't mind getting out of the shoes. A waitress stopped by, all smiley face. "Hey handsome," she said to Ranger. "What'U it be?"

"Vodka rocks," Ranger said. "Two of them."

I raised an eyebrow at him when the waitress left. "You drink vodka rocks?"

"Less to dump on the floor," he said.

We didn't want to make an entrance and have Gorvich spot us, so we'd arrived early. The disadvantage to this soon became apparent. Ranger was a bimbo magnet. The dancers finished their set, and one immediately strolled over to our table and straddled Ranger.

"Want a private party?" she asked.

"Not tonight," Ranger said. He handed her a twenty, and she left.

"What about the cat-feeding theory?" I asked him.

"Out the window."

Our drinks were delivered and a new dancer popped up in front of Ranger. "Hey sweetie," she said. "How's it going?" And before Ranger had a chance to answer, she had her huge breasts in his face and her leg over his lap.

"Not tonight," Ranger said. He handed her a twenty, and she left.

"I'm seeing a pattern here," I said to Ranger. "How often do you come here?"

"Too often. I thought you were going to run interference." "It’s like they come out of nowhere. Before I know it, they're on top of you."

A woman in rhinestone pasties and a rhinestone G-string stopped by, and Ranger handed her a twenty before she got her leg over him.

"You could go through a lot of money fast this way," I said to Ranger.

"All for you, babe. Small price to pay to keep you out of jail." He dumped his vodka onto the floor behind him. The waitress swooped in, took his glass, and gave him a fresh vodka.

Rufus rolled in at five minutes to ten. He took a seat at a table by the bar and ordered a drink. One of the girls approached him and was allowed to do her thing. Guess the room in the back was closed on Monday, and the action came out front.

Ranger and I watched her gyrate and bounce and rub against Rufus.

"I know men like this sort of thing," I said to Ranger, "but personally, I prefer a shoe sale at Macy s. On the plus side, we'll be in good shape if we have to follow him. She's shedding so much body glitter, he's going to glow in the dark."

The dancer slithered up Rufus, and his entire face got smushed into her breasts.

"She's going to kill him," I said to Ranger. "He's going to suffocate. Do something."

"He's okay. His color still looks good," Ranger said.

"His color is terrible. He's purple."

"Its the lights."

"Do men have… you know, reactions to this rubbing and writhing stuff in public?" I asked Ranger.

"I guess, but this is the first time I've seen someone turn purple." At ten after ten, the big blond muscle guy with the stapled nuts came into the bar and sat across from Rufus. He said something to the dancer, and she abruptly got up and left. Rufus called for the check and finished his drink. He paid his bill and left with the muscle guy.

"Give them time to get out of the building," Ranger said. "We don't want to ruin this by getting recognized."

"Aren't you afraid of losing them?"

"Tank is in the lot, and Hal is on the street."

Ranger took a call from Tank.

"They're moving," Ranger said, snapping his phone closed. He signaled the waitress and dropped a hundred dollars on the table. We left the club and followed Tank's directions through town. We turned into the projects, and I guessed where we were headed. The law firm's apartment building.

There was only on-street parking on Jewel Street, and at this time of the night, every parking place was taken.

"Rufus went in the car with the muscle," Tank said over speakerphone. "He got dropped off in front of the building and the muscle kept driving. Hal followed the car to Stark Street and lost it in traffic. I'm double-parked across the street from the building. Rufus went in and hasn't come out. No one else has gone in since I've been here. Only a few minutes." Ranger called Hal. "Look at the back of the building and make sure it's secure."

"Yessir," Hal said. "I'm a couple blocks away. I'll get right to it." Ranger circled the block and found a parking place on a side street. We left the car and walked to where Tank was idling. We stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building. Lights were on in units A and A. Curtains were drawn in A.

"It has to be the third floor," I said. "I was in every apartment, and I can't see any of the others as a possibility."

"I told Rufus I'd wait for him to clear before I made a move, but this feels off," Ranger said.

"What do you want to do with Gorvich when you find him?" I asked.

"I want to talk to him."

A car careened onto Jewel half a block away and screamed past us, going in the opposite direction. Two men in the car. The passenger in shadow. The driver was the blond muscle guy.

Hal was half a block behind with his foot to the floor. Tank jerked away from the curb, hooked a U-turn, and Tank and Hal disappeared down the street in pursuit. Ranger and I ran to the building and took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I smelted the gasoline before we even reached the top of the stairs. It was mingled with cooked meat and forest fire.

Ranger didn't bother with the locksmith tool. He put his foot to the door and crashed it open. Smullens girlfriend had moved fast. The apartment looked completely cleaned out, with the exception of a large upholstered couch. Probably too awkward to get down the stairs on short notice. Either end of the couch was intact. The middle of the couch was charred. And the two bodies sitting on the couch were charred. The wall behind the couch was burned black.

"This is just like the warehouse," I said. "Someone's doused this apartment with gasoline. There's probably a bomb in here somewhere."

Ranger grabbed me and shoved me out of the apartment. "Go to the second floor and get everyone out of the building."

I flew down the stairs and started banging on doors. I had two apartments empty and was on the third when Uncle Mickey hustled down the stairs with Ranger behind him.

"Go to the first floor," Ranger said to me. "I'll finish up here." We had everyone on the street and sirens were wailing in the distance when flames shot out of the windows to A. The fire raced through the structure, and Ranger and I ran to the neighboring building and made sure everyone evacuated.

The police cars were the first on the scene and then the fire trucks and paramedics. I was relieved to give the disaster over to the professionals and fade away into the crowd of bystanders. I was sweating from horror and exertion and the heat of the fire, and I was shivering with nervous energy.

Ranger pulled me into a shadow and wrapped his arms around me. I held tight to his open jacket and tucked my face into him, trying to get my teeth to stop chattering. Ranger wasn't trembling, and he wasn't sweating. His breathing was measured and normal.

"Breathe," Ranger said, his voice soft against my ear. "Try to breathe deeper." His calm washed into me, the shivering and chattering stopped, and tears rolled down my cheeks and soaked into his shirt.

"I f-f-feel like an idiot," I said to him.

"It's just a letdown from the adrenaline rush."

"Why aren't you letting down?"

"My body is more efficient at producing and using adrenaline." We stood like that, locked together, for a couple more minutes, until I stopped crying. Finally, Ranger looked down at me. "How are you do-ing?"

"I'm good."

"I want to talk to Tank," Ranger said. "Stay with me."

"I'm pooped. I thought I'd go sit in one of the cars." Ranger took my hand. "Not yet. I don't want you out of my sight."

"Afraid I'll burn down another building?"

"Afraid you'll get arrested."

Five men in RangeMan black stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of us. Tank and Hal were among them. Ranger dismissed all but Tank.

"Hal got to the back of the building just as the car was leaving," Tank said. "Hal saw a rope hanging from a third-floor window. Looked like someone might have rappelled out. Hal had to turn around to follow the car, and we were both too far behind to catch him. He was really moving."

"Did Hal get a plate?"

"He got a plate the first time he followed him. We've already traced it."

"Stolen?" Ranger asked.

"Yes."

"I'm taking Stephanie home. Stay here a while longer and let me know if anything weird goes down."

Ranger opened his apartment door for me and walked me to the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Famished. And tired."

"I can call Ella. She'll make whatever you want. Or you can prowl through the kitchen. There's still peanut butter from the last time you were here."

"Peanut butter sounds perfect."

I shucked my coat and assembled a peanut butter and olive sandwich while Ranger leaned against the kitchen counter and punched a number into his phone.

"Who are you calling?" I asked.

"Morelli. Do you want him on speakerphone?"

"No. I haven't the energy."

"We need to talk," Ranger said to Morelli. "There was a second fire tonight. Two people toasted by a flamethrower. I saw them just before the building exploded. Same drill as the warehouse. Both times there were victims already burned, accelerant in the area, and there must have been an incendiary device on a timer. I'd like to see the reports. And it would be good to get a fast ID on the bodies in the apartment building tonight." Morelli said something, and Ranger looked over at me.

"No, she wasn't directly involved," Ranger said. "She was with me the whole time. She's fine. Her hair didn't even catch fire."

I rolled my eyes and gave Morelli and Ranger the finger.

"I wanted to bring this to you first," Ranger said. "If you're unavailable, I can go to your captain. This probably could benefit from a task force."

Ranger flipped his phone closed and uncorked a bottle of red wine. He poured me a glass and ate an olive from the bottle.

"Is Morelli going to run with this?" I asked.

"He's going to make a phone call."

I had my sandwich made, but I was so exhausted I could hardly chew. I washed a chunk down with wine and felt all my bones dissolve. "I'm going downstairs to research flamethrowers," Ranger said. "Ill be up later."

I finished the sandwich and wine and fell asleep wearing one of Rangers T-shirts. It was big and comfy, and it was the first thing I laid hands on in the dressing room. Sleep is very strange stuff. One minute you don't know anything, and then you're awake and life starts over. I opened my eyes to Ranger, fully dressed, standing over me, coffee cup in his hand.

"I let you sleep as long as possible," he said. "We have a meeting at the station in a half hour. You have ten minutes to shower and get dressed. I'm putting your coffee in the bathroom."

"Meeting?"

"Fire marshal-that would be Ken Roiker-Morelli, Captain Targa, Marty Gobel. Don't know who else. We're going to give information, and we're going to get information." He looked down at me. "If I leave, you'll get up, right?"

"Yeah."

"You won't go back to sleep?"

"No."

"I don't believe you. You have that go-back-to-sleep look." He ripped the covers off and dragged me into the bathroom. He turned the shower on and shoved me in still wearing his T-shirt. "You are such an asshole," I yelled at him.

"Ten minutes/' he said. And he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I was at the sink, wearing his robe with the hair dryer in my hand, when he rapped on the door. "Ten minutes are up."

"Bite me," I said.

"I've got clothes for you."

I stuck my head out. "You picked out my clothes?"

"It wasn't hard. They're all the same."

I took the clothes, closed the door, and got dressed. Only the bra didn't have RangeMan embroidered on it.

I gave up on the hair drying and skipped makeup. I'd take care of that in the car. Ranger was waiting in the kitchen. He had coffee in a travel mug and a bagel with cream cheese in a Styrofoam box. Ranger hated being late for a meeting. Only death or dismemberment or the opportunity for morning sex were considered acceptable reasons for Ranger to be late to a meeting.