Notorious Nineteen (23 page)

“I’m okay,” I said.

I thought there were sounds of elephants running in the hall, dimly heard over the ringing in my ears. It was Ranger and two more Rangeman guys. Not as big as elephants, but the two men with Ranger could easily have made the NFL playing defense.

Ranger moved around Orin, stepped into the kitchen, and lifted me to my feet. He took a knife off his gun belt and cut my tape away.

“I was on Hamilton when the alarm went off,” Ranger said. “I listened to you all the way, and got here just as the explosion occurred. Hal was already at your door by then.”

I looked down at the plus sign on the watch face. Hard to read because I was shaking.

“I wasn’t fast enough to hit the button when he first appeared,” I said. “And then my wrists were taped. He must have accidentally pushed the button when he grabbed me.”

People were accumulating in the hall. Ranger told one of the men to close the door and stand guard outside. Some of Orin was facedown on the tile. Some of him was on my foyer wall. What was on the floor was charred and smoking. Only the prosthetic foot was still intact, halfway across the room.

“What happened here?” Ranger asked me.

“He had what I thought might be explosives and a couple grenades taped to the ammo belts across his chest. There was a scuffle and one of the grenades lost a pin. Logan and I dove for the kitchen and Orin exploded.”

Ranger squatted beside the body. “The most common grenade sends fragments over a wide radius. Orin was a munitions genius, and I’m guessing this was some sort of designer incendiary device. We need to clear this area and bring in a bomb expert to make sure there aren’t any more live explosives on him.”

“Is he dead?” Logan asked.

This was a no-brainer question considering what was left of Orin.

“He’s been dead for years,” Ranger said.

TWENTY-FOUR

LOGAN CARRIED TIKI
into the hall, I grabbed my messenger bag, and Ranger carried Rex’s hamster tank. By the time we reached the parking lot, emergency vehicles were rumbling in. A fire truck, an EMT truck, two police cars. Morelli in the Buick.

Morelli parked and jogged over to us. He stood hands on hips, his expression grim.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

“Except for my ponytail,” I said. “And some minor burns on my neck.”

He looked up at my apartment windows. “What’s going on?”

“The rocket guy blew himself up,” I said. “He needs to be checked out to make sure he’s not still booby-trapped.”

“Are you on the job?” Ranger asked Morelli.

“No,” Morelli said. “I’m off today. Jean Matson was working dispatch and called me when Rangeman asked for police assistance.”

“I’m going to see this through,” Ranger said. “It’s not necessary for anyone else to stay. I’m sure Stephanie will have to give a statement, but she can do that downtown some other time. I have the explosion and events immediately preceding it recorded.”

Morelli took Rex from Ranger. “Where do you want to go first, my house or a hair salon?”

I gave up a sigh. “Your house,” I said. I glanced at Logan, and thought he looked lost, cradling Tiki, unsure of his place. “Can we take Logan with us?”

“Sure,” Morelli said, slinging an arm around me. “Let’s go home.”

We piled into the Buick and chugged out of the lot. Minutes later we were in Morelli’s nice normal neighborhood, and the explosion seemed far away.

“I thought you were taking me to jail,” Logan said when we parked.

“It’s not at the top of my list,” I told him. “I want to change out of this wet shirt, zone out on Morelli’s couch, and let it sink in that the nightmare is over.”

I went upstairs, swapped my shirt for one of Morelli’s T-shirts, trudged into the bathroom, and looked at my hair. Any other time I would have burst into tears, but right now I was happy just to be alive. It’s hair, I told myself. It’ll grow. I crawled into Morelli’s bed and woke up hours later in a panic. The wedding! I’d forgotten all about the wedding.

I ran downstairs and found Morelli, Logan, Tiki, and Bob on the couch watching television.

“Did Ranger call? Did I miss anything?” I asked.

“We got the bullets out of Tiki, filled him in with wood putty, and colored it with a brown Magic Marker,” Logan said. “He’s feeling a lot better.”

Morelli had his hand in a bag of chips. “Ranger called and I told him you were sleeping. He’s coming by at two o’clock with the dress. Since the original maid of honor didn’t think she could lose thirty pounds in time to fit the altered dress she relinquished the gig to you. And apparently Amanda really wanted you to still be in the wedding. Ranger said if you needed anything from your apartment you should call him.”

“It’s almost two now,” I said. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I went up to look in on you and you were out like a light. I thought you needed the sleep.”

I felt around the back of my head for the burned-off ponytail. “I need to do something with my hair.”

“Cupcake, that’s a lost cause. I can cut the singed ends off if you want.”

The doorbell rang and Ranger walked in, carrying the plastic-bagged dress. He was in his tux, with a five o’clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes.

“You look like you could use a beer,” Morelli said, getting to his feet.

“It’s been a long day,” Ranger said, handing the dress over to me.

I carried the dress upstairs, took a fast shower, and pulled what was left of my hair into a ponytail again. I searched in Morelli’s medicine chest for aloe ointment and smeared some on my blistered neck. I slipped the acres of pink taffeta over my head and struggled to get it zipped. What had originally been a dress from the Little House on the Prairie collection was now straight out of the Little Whorehouse on the Prairie collection. It was so tight and cut so low in the bodice that my boobs were all popped out. If the material hadn’t snagged on my nipples they’d have been popped out too. I smashed myself in as best I could and went downstairs.

I marched into the living room in my dress and sneakers. “Do not say
one word
,” I said. “I will personally make a eunuch out of anyone who makes a crack about this dress or my hair.”

“I like it,” Morelli said.

“You’re skating on thin ice, mister,” I told him.

Ranger set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and stood. “Let’s get this done.”

I followed him out and stood looking at the 911 Turbo. “I’m not going to fit,” I said. “How am I going to get all of this dress into this little car?”

“Get in and I’ll do the rest,” Ranger said.

I swiveled around, dropped into the seat, and Ranger beat the dress into submission and stuffed it in. He was laughing when he got behind the wheel.

“Now what?” I asked.

“You’re wearing sneakers. I hope the bridal shop lady never finds out.”

“You didn’t notice in the house?”

“My eyes never got lower than your nipples. If it wasn’t for the fact that Morelli would shoot me I would have taken you on his front lawn.”

Perfect, I thought. I have half my hair burned off, I’m wearing the dress from hell, and all I have to do is show a little nipple and I’m a sex goddess. Something to remember.

Ranger rolled out of the lot and headed for Hamilton Avenue. “Your apartment is relatively clean and your door is fixed. I have another cleaning crew coming in the morning. I wouldn’t advise going back there tonight. It’ll be fine after tomorrow.”

“Orin?”

“Defused and taken away.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Ranger said. “I want to let it rest.”

“When you’re ready to talk about it I’ll tell you what he told me before he set my hair on fire. He was very, very sick.”

“I know he was sick. And maybe someday I’ll want to know his reasoning and his inner demons, but right now I’m moving on.”

He parked in the church lot and we walked to the side door. We were originally supposed to be with Kinsey and Amanda prior to the wedding, but circumstances had of course changed that. The other ushers were already collected in the vestibule. Guests were beginning to arrive. A room had been reserved for the bride and her bridesmaids. Ranger dropped me there and went to wait for Kinsey.

Everyone was there but Amanda. She was coming with her parents. None of the other women were popping out of their dresses and no one else had hair styled by a Bic lighter. They were relatives of the bride, college roommates, and best friends. They were all good people, including me in their pre-wedding excitement. No one mentioned my hair, but it was the elephant in the room.

“It was set on fire,” I finally said. “I had an episode with a crazy person, and he set my hair on fire.”

Everyone went bug-eyed.

“What happened to the crazy person?” one of the women asked.

“He blew himself up.”

“Get out! You mean like guts all over the place?”

“Not
all
over the place,” I said. “He was pretty well contained, all things considered.”

Ranger called on my phone and asked me to come into the hall. I went out and found him smiling.

“They eloped,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Kinsey just called. They’re on a plane for Paris.”

“Gee,” I said. “I’m all dressed up. I was looking forward to walking down the aisle in my sneakers.”

“You can wear your sneakers to the reception. They’re going ahead with it.”

“I’ll pass on the reception.”

Ranger kissed me on the top of the head. “Good choice.”

Morelli, Logan, Tiki, and Bob were still in front of the television when I returned. Logan and Bob were asleep. Tiki was ever vigilant. Morelli looked bored.

“Short wedding,” Morelli said.

“They eloped at the last minute.”

Morelli looked at Logan. “What am I supposed to do with him? Are we adopting him?”

“No. Give me a minute to get out of this monstrosity and I’ll take him off your hands.”

I ran upstairs, shucked the dress, and got back into my jeans and Morelli’s T-shirt. I went into Morelli’s upstairs office and sat at his desk. I pulled up an online travel site on his computer, searched for tickets to Hawaii, and booked Logan and Tiki on a red-eye leaving from Newark. I returned to the living room and grabbed my messenger bag.

“I need the keys to the Buick,” I said to Morelli. “I’m taking Logan for a ride.”

“You’re not going to drop him off in a field like a stray cat, are you?”

“No. And I wouldn’t do that to a stray cat either.”

I woke Logan, gave him a granola bar, and told him we were heading out.

“Are we going to jail?” he asked.

“No,” I told him. “I’m going to get you and Tiki back to Hawaii.”

“I haven’t got the moola,” Logan said. “I only saved up enough for half a ticket.”

“My treat,” I said.

“This could be construed as helping a fugitive to flee,” Morelli said.

I rolled my eyes at Morelli. “He bashed in a police car. That’s everyone’s fantasy.”

Morelli turned back to the television. “I didn’t hear anything. This conversation never took place. Do you want me to ride along with you?”

“Not necessary,” I said, “but thanks.”

I got Logan and Tiki buckled into the Buick and I made my way to the highway. Route 1 wasn’t bad at this time of evening on a Saturday, and once I got on the Turnpike I flew. I pulled into short-term parking and walked Logan to the terminal. I waited while he and Tiki sailed through check-in with their e-tickets for two seats and went through security without a hitch. I walked back to the Buick feeling good. It had been a really weird day, but it was ending happy.

I got a mental message from Tiki a few minutes before seven that they were about to take off, and he wanted to thank me. Minutes later I got a text message from Morelli telling me to pick up a pizza on my way home.

TWENTY-FIVE

MORELLI AND I
were halfway through the large pizza, extra cheese, extra pepperoni, when Grandma called me.

“I cracked the case,” she said. “I got it all figured out. Millie Debrowski and I went to the diner on Livingston for dinner tonight because Millie was hankering for their rice pudding. That’s the diner the old coots went to when it turned out they couldn’t rough up Geoffrey Cubbin. Well, we’re walking in and I notice they got business hours on the door and it says they close at one o’clock. That means the nurse fibbed about seeing Cubbin in his bed at two o’clock. Cubbin went missing a lot earlier.”

I was gobstruck. It was suddenly so clear why we didn’t see Cubbin leave. We were watching the wrong segment of video.

“You’re a genius,” I said to Grandma.

“Yep, I’m a regular Sherlock.”

I hung up with Grandma and told Morelli about the diner hours. “We watched the wrong part of the video,” I said. “We need to go back and watch from the beginning of the shift.”

I called Briggs and told him we’d meet him in his office in a half hour, and that we wanted to see earlier video. He said he’d have everything ready to roll by the time we got there. Morelli gave the last piece of pizza to Bob, I gave a small chunk to Rex, and we took off for the hospital.

“I was going to ask for twenty-four hours of video to begin with,” Morelli said, “but I have a monster caseload, and after reviewing the nurses’ statements I was hoping it wasn’t necessary.”

My excuse wasn’t that legitimate. I hadn’t wanted to spend that much time with Randy Briggs.

We parked and walked through the lobby together. Visiting hours were coming to a close and Morelli badged his way past the reception desk. I’m used to working with Ranger but not so much with Morelli. I always feel like an illegitimate stepchild when I work with Morelli. He’s a Trenton cop and I’m someone with a badge I bought on the Internet.

Briggs was waiting in his office. Mickey Zigler was patrolling the floors.

“Holy crap,” Briggs said when he saw me. “What happened to your hair? It looks like you got too close to a barbecue.”

“Pretty close to the truth,” I said. “Are you set to go?”

“Yeah. I have all the cameras on the screen and backed up to eleven o’clock.”