Look Alive Twenty-Five Page 11

  I wasn’t in favor of maniacs either, and I had a sick stomach. Three people associated with me were missing. I felt like two were directly my bad. Wayne Kulicki and Hal wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it wasn’t for me. I felt especially sick over Hal. He was a good person, and he’d been abducted while trying to protect me.

  “The worst part is now that it might not be aliens, we don’t know what’s happening to these people,” Lula said. “I don’t even want to think about it. They could be . . . you know.”

  “Dead,” Raymond said. “I fear someone is doing a very bad thing.”

  I went to the back door and stood next to Ranger. His men were systematically inching along the blacktopped parking area next to the deli, looking for clues.

  “Did you find anything?” I asked him.

  “No. The cameras scan to the dry cleaner’s dumpster. Hal walked past the dumpster and out of camera range. He obviously thought the situation was benign. He didn’t have his gun drawn. He didn’t look concerned. We haven’t found any signs of struggle. No blood. No torn clothing.”

  “Have you seen the latest medical report on Vinnie?”

  “The one that suggested he might have been shot with a tranq dart? Yes, I have that report. It would explain the lack of evidence showing there was a struggle.”

  “What about Hal’s shoe?”

  “We haven’t touched the shoe. CSI will test the shoe, but I’d be surprised if they find anything. Shoes from previous victims haven’t been helpful.”

  I told him about my conversation with Wulf.

  “I heard he was in town,” Ranger said. “Hard to believe he’s investigating the disappearances. I’d be more inclined to believe he’s responsible for them.”

  “Where do you go from here?”

  “I use my resources to find the missing people. And I go proactive.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked him. “How can you go proactive?”

  “I can take Hal’s place.”

  “Omigod. You’re going to work here, making sandwiches?”

  Ranger backed me into the wall and leaned into me. “You think I can’t make sandwiches?”

  “I’ve never seen you make a sandwich.”

  “You’ve seen me do other things. Have you ever seen me do anything badly?”

  He had the hint of a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were dark. This wasn’t a display of ego. This was foreplay, and it went straight to my doodah. I had a rush of heat erupt in my chest and head south. I’d been intimate with Ranger, and it wasn’t an experience easily forgotten. It wasn’t an experience any woman would want to forget.

  “Who’s going to run Rangeman if you’re in the deli full-time?”

  “I can run Rangeman off-site.”

  “Hal had other responsibilities besides making sandwiches.”

  “Hal was here to keep you safe,” Ranger said.

  “And now you’re going to keep me safe?”

  “Full-time.”

  “Morelli isn’t going to like this.”

  “I’ll hand you over to him when we close at night, and I’ll expect you back in the morning. If you aren’t with Morelli, you’re with me.”

  Truth is, I didn’t mind the arrangement. I wasn’t exactly Rambo. And I didn’t want to be the next victim with one shoe on and one shoe off.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  Two Trenton PD patrol cars arrived five minutes after Ranger made the phone call to report Hal missing. Jimmy Krut showed up ten minutes later. Morelli was a couple minutes behind Krut. I’d made the call to Morelli.

  I stayed close to the building, in front of the open back door. Morelli and Ranger were standing toe to toe beyond the dumpster. Morelli was hands on hips, his cop face firmly in place. Focused. Alpha dog posture. Ranger had his back to me. His arms were relaxed at his side, but his stance was solid, shoulders back from years in the military. Ranger was alpha dog times two. There was professional respect on both sides. And there was personal distrust simmering below the surface.

  Morelli cut his eyes to me, his gaze held for a couple beats, and his attention returned to Ranger. They were talking about me. Their intentions were probably good, but I felt like I was being auctioned off on eBay.

  “Hey!” I yelled. “Do you want to include me in this conversation?”

  “No,” Morelli said.

  I couldn’t see Ranger’s face, but I knew that got a smile from him. I did a massive eye roll, called them idiots, and retreated into the deli, slamming the door behind me.

  “You look like you need pie,” Lula said.

  I looked around the room. It was empty.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “Dalia quit. She said if anyone wants to talk to her they can kiss her ass and good luck finding her. She said she was going to get into her car and start driving west and not stop until she hit the Pacific Ocean. Raymond and Stretch went home. They said unless you were gonna start paying overtime they weren’t staying late no more.”

  “What kind of pie do we have?”

  “Apple, coconut custard, lemon meringue but I wouldn’t recommend it, and chocolate pudding pie.”

  “What’s wrong with the lemon meringue?”

  “It smells like cat pee,” Lula said.

  I went to the fridge and pulled out a chocolate pudding pie and extra whipped cream.

  “Bring two forks,” Lula said.

  We dug into the pie, and I looked over at Lula.

  “What’s going on here? What’s the motive? What’s with the shoe?”

  “Maniacs don’t always have motives,” Lula said. “At least none that make sense. Like maybe the devil told someone to snatch people and leave a shoe behind.”

  “Suppose it wasn’t the devil. Suppose it was someone more normal. Why would someone want to take people associated with the management of the deli?”

  “That’s a tough one,” Lula said. “And why did they snatch Hal? He wasn’t a manager.”

  “Maybe Hal was a mistake.”

  “Okay, so who would benefit from having bad things happening at the deli?” Lula asked. “There’s Ernie Sitz, but he’s supposed to be on the moon or something. I don’t see how this would do him any good. Except maybe he would be looking for revenge. Like if he couldn’t have the deli then no one could have it.”

  “If that was the motive he could just torch it.”

  “Yeah, but that wouldn’t be as much fun,” Lula said.

  I hadn’t thought of this in terms of fun, but I suppose it was as good a motive as any.

  “What about the bodies?” I asked. “Where are they?”

  “That’s got about a million answers,” Lula said. “They could be on a hook in the deep freeze of a butcher shop. Or they could be in a shallow grave in the Pine Barrens. Or they could be still alive and chained up in someone’s cellar. I don’t think they got thrown in the Delaware, because one of them would have floated up by now.”

  I didn’t like any of those answers. I put my head down and forked into the pie.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  One of the Rangeman guys took Lula home. I went home with Morelli. Bob danced around us when we entered. Morelli ruffled Bob’s ears and locked the door.

  “Now what?” he asked. “Television? Glass of wine? Frozen waffle? Bed?”

  “Bed. I just worked my way through half a pudding pie, and I’m done.”

  “Only half a pie?”

  “Lula ate the other half.”

  “Works for me. Bed was my choice too.”

  “What do you think happened to Hal?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a big guy. He’s strong. He was wearing a sidearm. Whatever happened to him was unexpected. He didn’t feel threatened when he walked out of
camera range. It was as if he was going to see someone he knew or someone who couldn’t possibly harm him. The shoe was thrown in three minutes later. It was a fast takedown.”

  “Tranquilizer dart?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Morelli said.

  “Do you think I’m going to be the next one to disappear?”

  “No. I’m more worried about Ranger than I am about the manager snatcher.”

  With good reason, I thought.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I HEARD MORELLI moving around the room in the dark. He was getting dressed. I looked at the clock. Five-thirty Saturday morning. He was right on schedule, even though it was a Saturday. Thank God it wasn’t my schedule. I rolled over and snuggled under the quilt.

  “Don’t roll over,” he said. “You have to get up.”

  “It’s too early,” I said. “I don’t get up before the sun.”

  The bedroom light flashed on.

  “That was yesterday,” Morelli said, throwing my clothes onto the bed. “You have to leave with me today. I’m dropping you off at Rangeman on my way to work.”

  I squinted at him, my eyes not totally adjusted to the light. “What? Why? Are you serious?”

  “It’s the deal we made. You’re either with me or with Ranger.”

  “Not at five-thirty in the morning!”

  “At all hours of the morning. You set yourself up to be a walking target. I get why you did it. But it was a stupid idea.”

  “It seemed smart when I thought of it.”

  He flipped the quilt off me and pulled me out of bed. “You’re such a cupcake.”

  I pushed my hair out of my face and tried to wake up. “I need coffee.”

  Morelli grinned at me. “You don’t have any clothes on.”

  “It’s all your fault.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” He settled his hands at my waist and drew me closer. “Maybe no one would notice if I was ten minutes late this morning.”

  “I need more than ten minutes.”

  “I don’t,” Morelli said.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  It was almost seven o’clock when Morelli turned me over to the armed guard at the front desk of Rangeman. I took the elevator to the fifth-floor control room and made my way to Ranger’s office.

  The office was small. A desk and two chairs. A bank of monitors on one wall. No window. Private half bath. No artwork. No photos of family. Walls were white. Chairs were black leather. A MacBook Pro was open on a glass and ebony desk. Ranger was wearing the standard Rangeman uniform of black cargo pants and black long-sleeved, collared shirt with the Rangeman logo on the sleeve. He stood and came over to me when I entered.

  “Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

  I nodded yes. I’d had a frozen waffle and coffee.

  “I could use more coffee,” I said.

  “I have morning meetings,” Ranger said. “I’ll be done around nine-thirty.”

  “I’m supposed to unlock the deli at ten.”

  “No problem. You can hang in my apartment until I’m done here. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”

  My apartment is utilitarian with secondhand furniture and a bathroom that dates back to the fifties. The best I can say is that I try to keep it neat. Morelli’s house is a man cave with a toaster and a dog. My parents’ house looks like the set from All in the Family.

  Ranger’s apartment was worthy of Architectural Digest. Small, ultramodern, well-equipped kitchen. Eating nook off the kitchen. The living room was furnished with a few sleek, comfortable pieces. An office that also served as a den, with a two-seater couch and a flat-screen television, was attached to the single bedroom. The bedroom was dark and cool and masculine. King-size bed with expensive linens. A dressing room where his housekeeper had all his clothes neatly pressed and folded. A high-gloss bathroom that always had the scent of Bulgari Green shower gel escaping from the walk-in shower.

  Hanging in Ranger’s apartment wasn’t a hardship. I took the elevator to his floor, let myself in, and went to the kitchen. I helped myself to coffee and looked around. Fresh fruit in a bowl next to an airtight glass container of walnuts and almonds. No donuts. Ranger ate healthy.

  I wouldn’t mind going back to bed, but I didn’t want to send Ranger the wrong message, so I stayed in the living room and checked my email. I texted Lula I’d meet her at the deli at ten o’clock.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  Ranger came to collect me at nine forty-five. He exchanged his Rangeman shirt for a plain black T-shirt, grabbed a handful of nuts from the jar on the kitchen counter, and we left his apartment.

  Stretch, Raymond, and Lula were on the sidewalk in front of the deli when Ranger and I pulled up in his black Porsche Cayenne Turbo.

  “What’s the drill?” Ranger asked me.

  “I open the door for Raymond and Stretch, and they get the deli ready for the lunch crowd. They get the fry station up and running. They do all the food prep.”

  “Does any of this involve going into the back by the dumpster?”

  “There are a bunch of vendors who deliver to the back door. Laundry, the butcher, Central GP. They all show up before the deli opens for business. One of us goes out and gets the stuff and brings it in and puts it away.”

  “What’s your role besides opening the front door?”

  “I fill in wherever I’m needed. Sometimes I help make sandwiches. Sometimes I answer the phone. When Hal was here it gave me a chance to step back and watch the customers.”

  “Anyone of interest?”

  “Not really. One regular caught my attention, but I think he’s probably just a guy who lives in the neighborhood and doesn’t like to cook.”

  Ranger and I got out of the Porsche, I unlocked the door, and we all went in and looked around. Everything seemed to be okay. No dead bodies. No extra shoes. No sneakers-up rats or cockroaches. Ranger went to the back door and stepped out. I followed behind him. It was eerily quiet with no sign of Hal. My vision blurred, and I felt like someone was squeezing my heart.

  Ranger pulled the yellow crime scene tape down and threw it in the dumpster. He wrapped an arm around me and kissed me on my forehead. “We’ll find him,” he said.

  The Central GP truck rumbled down the back alley and swung into the deli’s parking area. Frankie got out from behind the wheel and handed me the itemized bill.

  “You’re early,” I said.

  “Yeah, it’s a light day. Didn’t take me as long to load the truck. Tell the boys I had to short them on the powdered sugar, but I’ll make up for it on Monday.”

  Ranger and I put the groceries away, and I told Stretch about the powdered sugar, which I suspected was drug code.

  “What’s up for the morning?” Lula asked me. “We only got one bad guy to look for, and we don’t know where to find him.”

  “Steph’s coming with me,” Ranger said. “We’re going for a walk.”

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  The area around the deli was mixed. There were gentrified pockets, but for the most part, the buildings were neglected, housing marginally legal businesses and a struggling population of dysfunctional, fractured families with gangbanger kids.

  We started our walk in the alley and methodically canvassed the neighborhood. We walked slowly, listening and looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  “You think the kidnapper is local,” I said.

  “I think there’s a local connection.”

  It was almost noon when we returned to the deli.

  “What do you think?” I asked Ranger. “Did you see anything interesting?”

  “The police have already questioned everyone in a four-block grid. They came up with nothing, but I wanted to see for myself.”

  “And?”

  “Two build
ings have vans parked in the alley. And there were four garages that were closed and locked. I’ll have someone check them out.”

  “You think they packed Hal off in a van?”

  “No stone unturned,” Ranger said. “They immediately disabled his cellphone, so we weren’t able to track him.”

  “You didn’t have a GPS gizmo sewn onto the hem of his shirt?”

  “We tried that but they kept getting mangled in the laundry.”

  I was being sarcastic. Ranger might have been serious.

  “These kidnappings are well planned and well executed,” Ranger said. “The victim is quickly removed with little forensic evidence left behind. And so far, no one has stepped forward asking for ransom. No one is bragging on social media. No bodies have been found.”

  “Except for Vinnie.”

  “Vinnie is an anomaly,” Ranger said.

  “Wow, ‘anomaly.’ That’s a big word.”

  The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Ranger’s mouth. “I know a few.”

  Lula threw her hands up when she saw us. “It’s about time you came back. We got a situation here. We just opened and the place is packed and there’s a line out the front door. That stupid television station ran another special on this place. All about the people getting beamed up and leaving a shoe behind. And it was about me and Hal and how we were connected somehow. And how we were a sight to see. I don’t even know what that means. It might not be flattering in the way they said it. And if that isn’t bad enough, we haven’t got a waitress. Who’s gonna wait tables? I’m telling you it’s chaos.”

  “You wait tables,” I said. “I’ll do the sandwiches and Ranger can take the phones.”

  “Good luck with that,” Lula said. “The phones won’t stop ringing.”

  “I have my fry oil ready,” Raymond said. “Let’s do this.”

  Lula was wearing a royal blue bandage dress that was so tight it looked like it was painted on her. It had short sleeves and a low scoop neck that barely contained her massive breasts. The skirt wrapped around her Kardashian butt and hung two inches below her hoo-ha. She sashayed out on five-inch stilettos and distributed menus. She dropped one, bent at the waist to pick it up, and the bandage dress skirt did nothing to hide the full moon. Only a hint of her red thong was visible, the rest being sucked up into the Grand Canyon of Voluptuousness.