Hard Eight (27 page)

My heart went
ka-thunk
in my chest, and I got a rush of adrenaline. “Run,” I said, shoving Grandma, plunging my hand into my bag to find my gun. “Run back to the bakery.”

The guy in the rubber mask and the guy in the rabbit suit were out of the car before it stopped rolling. They rushed at Grandma and me with guns drawn and herded us between the two cars. The rubber mask guy was of average height and build. He was wearing jeans and running shoes and a Nike jacket. The rabbit was wearing the big rabbit head and street clothes.

“Against the car, and hands where I can see them,” the mask guy said.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Grandma asked. “You look like Bill Clinton.”

“Yeah, I’m Bill Clinton,” the guy said. “Get against the car.”

“I never understood that part about the cigar,” Grandma said.

“
Get against the car!
”

I backed against the car and my mind was racing. Cars were moving on the street in front of us, but we were hidden from sight. If I screamed I doubted I’d be heard by anyone, unless someone walked by on the sidewalk.

The rabbit got up close to me. “
Thaaa id ya raa raa da haaar id ra raa
. ”

“What?”

“
Haaar id ra raa
.”

“We can’t figure out what you’re saying, on account of you’re wearing that big stupid rabbit head,” Grandma said.

“
Raa raa,
” the rabbit said. “
Raa raa!
”

Grandma and I looked over at Clinton.

Clinton shook his head in disgust. “I don’t know what he’s saying. What the hell’s
raa raa?
” he asked the rabbit.

“
Haaar id ra raa
.”

“Christ,” Clinton said. “Nobody can understand you. Haven’t you ever tried to talk in that thing before?”

The rabbit gave Clinton a shove. “
Ra raa,
you fraaakin’
aar
ho.”

Clinton flipped the rabbit the bird.

“
Jaaaark,
” the rabbit said. And then he unzipped his pants and pulled out his wanger. He waggled his wanger at Clinton. And then he waggled it at Grandma and me.

“I remember them as being bigger than that,” Grandma said.

The rabbit yanked and pulled at himself and managed to get half a hard-on.

“
Rogga. Ga rogga,
” the rabbit said.

“I think he’s trying to tell you this is a preview,” Clinton said. “Something to look forward to.”

The rabbit was still working it. He’d found his rhythm, and he was really whacking away.

“Maybe you should help him out,” Clinton said to me. “Go ahead. Touch it.”

My lip curled back. “What are you nuts? I’m not touching it!”

“I’ll touch it,” Grandma said.

“
Kraaa
,” the rabbit said. And his wanger wilted a little.

A car turned off the street, into the lot, and Clinton gave the rabbit a shot in the arm. “Let’s roll.”

They backed up, still holding us at gunpoint. Both men jumped into the Explorer and took off.

“Maybe we should have got some cannoli,” Grandma said. “I got a sudden taste for cannoli.”

I loaded Grandma into the CR-V and drove her back to the house.

“We saw that rabbit again,” Grandma told my mother. “The one who gave me the pictures. I think he must live by the bakery. This time he showed us his ding-a-ling.”

My mother was justifiably horrified.

“Was he wearing a wedding band?” Valerie asked.

“I didn’t notice,” Grandma said. “I wasn’t looking at his hand.”

“You were held at gunpoint and sexually assaulted,” I said to Grandma. “Weren’t you frightened? Aren’t you upset?”

“They weren’t real guns,” Grandma said. “And we were in the parking lot to the bakery. Who would be serious about something like that in a bakery parking lot?”

“They were real guns,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“
Yes
.”

“Maybe I’ll sit down,” Grandma said. “I thought that rabbit was just one of those exhibitionists. Remember Sammy the Squirrel? He was always dropping his drawers in people’s backyards. Sometimes we’d give him a sandwich after.”

The Burg has had its share of exhibitionists, some mentally
challenged, some drunk beyond reason, some just out for a good time. For the most part, the attitude is eye-rolling tolerance. Once in a while someone drops his drawers in the wrong backyard and ends up with an ass filled with buckshot.

I called Morelli and told him about the rabbit. “He was with Clinton,” I said. “And they weren’t getting along all that great.”

“You should file a report.”

“There’s only one body part I’d ever recognize on this guy, and I don’t think you’ve got it in the mug books.”

“Are you carrying a gun?”

“Yes. I didn’t have time to get to it.”

“Put it on your hip. It’s illegal to carry concealed anyway. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to actually put a couple bullets in it.”

“I
have
bullets in it.” Ranger put them in. “Have they identified the guy in the trunk yet?”

“Thomas Turkello. Also known as Thomas Turkey. Muscle for hire out of Philadelphia. My guess is he was expendable, and better to snuff him than take a chance on him talking. The rabbit is probably inner circle.”

“Anything else?”

“What would you want?”

“Abruzzi’s fingerprint on a murder weapon.”

“Sorry.”

I was reluctant to disconnect, but I didn’t have anything else to say. The truth is, I had a hollow feeling in my stomach that I hated to put a name to. I was mortally afraid it was loneliness. Ranger was fire and magic, but he wasn’t real. Morelli was everything I wanted in a man, but he wanted me to be something I wasn’t.

I hung up and retreated to the living room. If you sat in front of the television in my parents’ house, you weren’t expected to talk. Even if asked a direct question, the viewer had the discretion of feigning hearing loss. Those were the rules.

Grandma and I were side by side on the sofa, watching the Weather Channel. Hard to tell which of us was more shell-shocked.

“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t touch it,” Grandma said. “Although, I gotta admit, I
was
kind of curious. It wasn’t real pretty, but it was big toward the end there. Have you ever seen one that big?”

The perfect time to invoke the television no-answer privilege.

After a couple minutes of weather I went back to the kitchen and had my second doughnut. I collected my things and I headed out. “I’m going,” I said to Grandma. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

Grandma didn’t answer. Grandma was zoned out to the Weather Channel. There was a high pressure area moving across the Great Lakes.

I went back to my apartment. This time I had my gun in my hand before I got out of the car. I crossed the lot and entered the building. I paused when I got to my door. This was always the tricky part. Once I was in the apartment I felt fairly secure. I had a security chain and a bolt besides the deadlock. Only Ranger could get in unannounced. Either he walked through the door ghost style, or else he vaporized himself like a vampire and slid under the jamb. I guess there might be a mortal possibility, but I didn’t know what it was.

I unlocked my door and searched through my apartment
like the movie version of a CIA operative, skulking from room to room, gun drawn, crouched position, ready to fire. I was crashing open doors and jumping around. Good thing no one was there to see me because I knew I looked like an idiot. The good part was, I didn’t find any rabbits with their tools hanging out. Compared to rape by the rabbit, spiders and snakes seemed like small change.

Ranger called ten minutes after I got into my apartment.

“Are you going to be home for a while?” he asked. “I want to send someone over to set up a security system.”

So the man of mystery reads minds, too.

“My man’s name is Hector,” Ranger said. “He’s on his way.”

Hector was slim and Hispanic, dressed in black. He had a gang slogan tattooed onto his neck and a single tear tattooed under his eye. He was in his early twenties, and he only spoke Spanish.

Hector had my door open and was making a final adjustment when Ranger arrived. Ranger gave a barely audible greeting to Hector in Spanish and glanced at the sensor that had just been installed in my doorjamb.

Then Ranger looked at me, giving away nothing of his thoughts. Our eyes held for a few long moments, and Ranger turned back to Hector. My Spanish is limited to burrito and taco, so I couldn’t understand the exchange between Ranger and Hector. Hector was talking and gesturing, and Ranger was listening and questioning. Hector gave Ranger a small gizmo, picked up his tool chest, and left.

Ranger crooked his finger at me, giving me the
come here
sign. “This is your remote. It’s a keypad, small
enough to hook to your car key. You have a four-digit code to open and close your door. If the door has been violated the remote will tell you. You’re not attached to a watchdog. There’s no alarm. This is designed to give you easy access and to tell you if someone’s broken into your apartment, so you have no more surprises. You have a steel fire door, and Hector’s installed a floor bolt. If you lock yourself in, you should be safe. There’s not much I can do about your windows. The fire escape is a problem. It’s less of a problem if you keep your gun on your nightstand.”

I looked down at the remote. “Does this go on the tab?”

“There’s no tab. And there’s no price for what we give each other. Not ever. Not financial. Not emotional. I have to get back to work.”

He stepped away to leave, and I grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Not so fast. This isn’t television. This is my life. I want to know more about this no-emotional-price thing?”

“It’s the way it has to be.”

“And what’s this job you have to get back to?”

“I’m running a surveillance operation for a government agency. We’re independent contractors. You aren’t going to grill me on details, are you?”

I released his shirt and blew out a sigh. “I can’t do this. This isn’t going to work.”

“I know,” Ranger said. “You need to repair your relationship with Morelli.”

“We needed a time-out.”

“I’m being a good guy right now because it suits my purposes, but I’m an opportunist, and I’m attracted to you. And I’ll be back in your bed if the Morelli time-out
goes on for too long. I could make you forget Morelli if I put my mind to it. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“Yeesh.”

Ranger smiled. “Lock your door.” And he was gone.

I locked my door, and I set the floor bolt. Ranger had successfully taken my mind off the masturbating rabbit. Now if I could just get my mind to stop thinking about Ranger. I knew everything Ranger said was true, with the possible exception of forgetting Morelli. It wasn’t easy to forget Morelli. I’d put a lot of effort into it over the years, but had never been successful.

My phone rang, and someone made kissy sounds to me. I hung up, and it rang again. More kissy sounds. When it rang a third time I pulled the plug.

A half hour later, someone was at my door. “I know you’re in there,” Vinnie yelled. “I saw the CR-V in the parking lot.”

I unlocked the floor bolt, the door bolt, the security chain, and the dead bolt.

“Jesus Christ,” Vinnie said when I finally opened the door. “You’d think there was something valuable in this rat trap.”

“
I’m
valuable.”

“Not as a bounty hunter, you aren’t. Where’s Bender? I’ve got two days to produce Bender, or I pay the money to the court.”

“You’re here to tell me that?”

“Yeah. I figured you needed some reminding. I’ve got my mother-in-law at my house today, driving me nuts. I thought this would be a good time to get Bender. I tried to call you, but your phone isn’t working.”

What the hell, I didn’t have anything else to do. I was sitting here trapped in my apartment with my phone disconnected.

I left Vinnie to wait in the entrance hall, and I went in search of my gun belt. I returned with the black nylon web holster strapped to my leg and my .38 loaded and ready for quick draw.

“Whoa,” Vinnie said, clearly impressed. “You’re finally serious.”

Right. Serious about not getting porked by a rabbit. We cruised out of the lot with me driving and Vinnie working the radio. I turned toward the center of town, keeping one eye on the road ahead and one eye on the rearview mirror. A green SUV came up behind me. He cut over a double line and passed me. The guy in the Clinton mask was behind the wheel, and the big ugly rabbit was riding shotgun. The rabbit turned and popped up through the sun roof and looked back at me. His ears were whipping around in the wind, and he was holding his head on with both hands.

“It’s the rabbit,” I yelled. “Shoot him! Take my gun and shoot him!”

“What are you, nuts?” Vinnie said. “I can’t shoot an unarmed rabbit.”

I was struggling, trying to get my gun out of the holster, trying to drive at the same time.

“
I’m
going to shoot him then. I don’t care if I get sent to jail. It’ll be worth it. I’m going to shoot him in his stupid rabbit head.” I wrenched the gun out of the holster, but I didn’t want to shoot through Ranger’s windshield. “Take the wheel,” I yelled to Vinnie. I opened the window, leaned out, and got off a shot.

The rabbit instantly retreated into the car. The SUV accelerated and turned left, onto a side street. I waited for traffic to pass, and then I turned left, also. I saw them ahead of me. They were turning and turning until we went full circle, and we were back on State. The SUV pulled up at a convenience store, and the two men took off on foot, around the brick building. I slid to a stop beside the Explorer. Vinnie and I jumped from the CR-V and ran after the men. We chased them for a couple blocks, they cut through a yard, and they disappeared.

Vinnie was bent at the waist, sucking air. “Why are we chasing a rabbit?”

“It’s the rabbit who firebombed my CR-V.”

“Oh yeah. Now I remember. I should have asked sooner. I would have stayed in the car. Jesus, I can’t believe you got off a shot hanging out the window. Who do you think you are, the Terminator? Christ, your mother would have my nuts if she knew you did that. What were you thinking?”