She hit me with the purse again, and this time I grabbed it by the strap and yanked it out of her hand.
Behind me I could hear Valerie give a little yelp of surprise.
“My purse,” the woman shrieked. “Thief! Help. She took my purse!”
A crowd had started to form around us. Motorists and mourners. The old lady grabbed one of the men on the fringe. “She's stealing my purse. She caused the accident and now she's stealing my purse. Get the police.”
Grandma jumped out of the crowd. “What's going on? I just got here. What's the ruckus about?”
“She stole my purse,” the woman said.
“Did not,” I said back.
“Did so.”
“Did not!”
“Yes you did,” the woman said, and she shoved me back with a hand to my shoulder.
“Keep your hands off my granddaughter,” Grandma said.
“Yes. And she's my sister,” Valerie chimed in.
“Mind your own business,” the woman yelled at Grandma and Valerie.
The woman shoved Grandma and Grandma shoved back and next thing they were slapping at each other and Valerie was standing to the side, shrieking.
I stepped forward to stop them and in the confusion of flailing arms and shrill threats someone smacked me in the nose. Little twinkle lights spread across my field of vision and I went down on one knee. Grandma and the old lady stopped slapping at each other and offered me tissues and advice on bow to stop the blood that was dripping from my nose.
“Someone get a paramedic,” Valerie shouted. “Call nine-one-one. Get a doctor. Get the undertaker.”
Morelli arrived and hauled me to my feet. “I think we can cross boxing off the list of possible alternative professions.”
“The old lady started it.”
“From the way your nose looks I'd say she also finished it.”
“Lucky punch.”
“DeChooch passed me going about seventy in the opposite direction,” Morelli said. “I couldn't turn in time to go after him.”
“That is the story of my life.”
WHEN MY NOSE stopped bleeding Morelli loaded Grandma and Valerie and me into my CR-V and followed us to my parents' house. He waved good-bye at that point, not wanting to be around when my mother saw us. I had bloodstains on Valerie's skirt and knit shirt. The skirt had a small tear in it. My knee was skinned and bleeding. And I had the beginning of a black eye. Grandma was in about the same condition but without the black eye and torn skirt. And something had happened to Grandma's hair so that it was standing straight up, making her look like Don King.
Because news travels at the speed of light in the Burg, by the time we got home, my mother had already taken six phone calls on the subject and knew every detail of our brawl. She clamped her mouth shut tight when we walked in and ran to get ice for my eye.
“It wasn't so bad,” Valerie said to my mother. “The police got it all straightened out. And the EMT people said they didn't think Stephanie's nose was broken. And they don't do much for a broken nose, anyway, do they, Stephanie? Maybe put a Band-Aid on it.” She took the ice pack from my mother and put it on her own head. “Do we have any liquor in the house?”
Mooner ambled over from the television. “Dude,” he said. “What's up?”
“Had a little dispute over a parking place.”
He nodded his head. “It's all about standing in line, isn't it?” And he went back to the television.
“You're not leaving him here, are you?” my mother asked. “He's not living with me, too, is he?”
“Do you think that would work?” I asked hopefully.
“No!”
“Then I guess I'm not leaving him.”
Angie looked around from the television. “Is it true you got hit by an old lady?”
“It was an accident,” I told her.
“When a person gets hit in the head the blow makes their brain swell. It kills brain cells and they don't regenerate.”
“Isn't it late for you to be watching television?”
“I don't have to go to bed because I don't have to go to school tomorrow,” Angie said. “We haven't registered in this new school system. And besides, we're used to staying up late. My father frequently had business dinners, and we were allowed to stay up until he got home.”
“Only now he's gone,” Mary Alice said. “He left us so he could sleep with the baby-sitter. I saw them kissing once and Daddy had a fork in his pants and it was sticking straight out.”
“Forks do that sometimes,” Grandma said.
I collected my clothes and Mooner and headed for home. If I was in better shape I would have driven over to The Snake Pit, but that was going to have to wait for another day.
“So tell me again why everyone is looking for this Eddie DeChooch guy,” Mooner said.
“I'm looking for him because he failed to appear for a court date. And the police are looking for him because they think he might be involved in a murder.”
“And he thinks I've got something that's his.”
“Yeah.” I watched Mooner as I drove, wondering if something was shaking loose in his head, wondering if a piece of important information would float to the surface.
“So what do you think?” Mooner said. “Do you think Samantha can do all that magic stuff if she doesn't twitch her nose?”
“No,” I said. “I think she has to twitch her nose.”
Mooner gave this serious consideration. “That's what I think, too.”
IT WAS MONDAY morning, and I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. A scab had formed on my knee and my nose ached. I dragged myself out of bed and limped into the bathroom. Eck! I had two black eyes. One was considerably blacker than the other. I got into the shower and stood there for what might have been a couple hours. When I staggered out my nose felt better, but my eyes looked worse.
Mental note. Two hours in a hot shower not good in early stages of black eye.
I blasted my hair with the dryer and pulled it back into a ponytail. I dressed in my usual uniform of jeans and stretchy T-shirt and went out to the kitchen in search of breakfast. Ever since Valerie showed up, my mother had been too distracted to send me home with the traditional food bag, so there was no pineapple upside-down cake in my refrigerator. I poured a glass of orange juice and dropped a slice of bread in the toaster. It was quiet in my apartment. Peaceful. Nice. Too nice. Too peaceful. I stepped out of the kitchen and looked around. Everything seemed to be in order. Except for the rumpled quilt and pillow on the couch.
Oh shit! There was no Mooner. Damn, damn, damn.
I ran to the door. It was closed and locked. The security chain was hanging loose, not securing the door. I opened the door and looked out. No one in the hall. I looked out the living room window, down at the parking lot. No Mooner. No suspicious characters or cars. I called Mooner's house. No answer. I scribbled a note to Mooner that I'd be back and he should wait for me. He could wait in the hall or he could break into my apartment. Hell, everybody breaks into my apartment. I taped the note to my front door and took off.
First stop was Mooner's house. Two roommates. No Mooner. Second stop, Dougie's house. No luck there. I cruised by the social club, Eddie's house, and Ziggy's house. I went back to my apartment. No sign of Mooner.
I called Morelli. “He's gone,” I said. “He was gone when I got up this morning.”
“Is that bad?”
“Yes, it's bad.”
“I'll keep my eyes open.”
“There haven't been any, uh . . .”
“Bodies washed up on the shore? Bodies found in Dumpsters? Dismembered limbs stuffed into the overnight drop at the video store? No. It's been slow. None of those.”
I hung up and called Ranger. “Help,” I said.
“Heard you got trashed by some old lady last night,” Ranger said. “We've got to get you some self-defense lessons, babe. Not good for the image to get trashed by an old lady.”
“I have bigger problems
“Maybe he just split.”
“Maybe he didn't.”
“He driving a car?”
“His car's still in my lot.”
Ranger let the silence lie there for a beat. “I'll ask around and get back to you.”
I called my mother. “You haven't seen Mooner, have you?” I asked.
“What?” she yelled. “What did you say?”
I could hear Angie and Mary Alice running around in the background. They were screaming at each other and it sounded like they were banging on pots.
“What's going on?” I shouted into the phone.
“Your sister's gone off on a job interview, and the girls are having a parade.”
“It sounds more like they're having World War Three. Has Mooner been around this morning?”
“No. I haven't seen him since last night. He's a little strange, isn't he? Are you sure he's not on drugs?”
I LEFT THE note to Mooner taped to my front door, and I drove down to the office. Connie and Lula were sitting at Connie's desk, watching the door to Vinnie's private lair.
Connie made a gesture for me to be quiet. “Joyce is in there with Vinnie,” she whispered. “They've been at it for ten minutes now.”
“You should have been here in the beginning when Vinnie was making sounds like a cow. Think Joyce must have been milking him,” Lula said.
Some low-key grunting and moaning was going on beyond the closed door. The grunting stopped and Lula and Connie leaned forward expectantly.
“This is my favorite part,” Lula said. “This is where they get to the spanking and Joyce barks like a dog.”
I leaned forward with them, listening for the spanking, wanting Joyce to bark like a dog, feeling embarrassed but not able to walk away.
I was firmly pulled back by my ponytail. Ranger had come in behind me and had me by the hair. “Glad to see you're hard at work looking for Mooner.”
“Shhh. I want to hear Joyce bark like a dog.”
Ranger had me flat against him, and I could feel the heat from his body seeping into mine. “Not sure that's worth waiting for, babe.”
There was some slapping and some squealing and then there was silence.
“Well, that was fun,” Lula said, “but there's gonna be a price for the entertainment. Joyce only goes in there when she wants something. And there's only one high-bond case pending right now.”
I looked at Connie. “Eddie DeChooch? Vinnie wouldn't give Eddie over to Joyce, would he?”
“Usually he only sinks that low when there are horses involved,” Connie said.
“Yeah, equine sex is the dollar ticket,” Lula said.
The door opened and Joyce flounced out. “I'll need the paperwork on DeChooch,” she said.
I lunged at her, but Ranger still had hold of my lair, so I didn't get very far. “Vinnie,” I yelled, “get out here!”
The door to Vinnie's inner office crashed closed and there was the sound of the lock clicking into place.
Lula and Connie glared at Joyce.
“It's going to take a while to get the paperwork together,” Connie said. “Maybe days.”
“No problem,” Joyce said. “I'll be back.” She glanced over at me. “Nice eye. Very attractive.”
I was going to have to do another Bob on her lawn. Maybe I could sneak into her house somehow and do a Bob on her bed.
Ranger released my ponytail but kept a hand on my neck. I tried to act calm, but his touch was humming through me all the way to my toes and points in between.
“None of my contacts have seen anyone meeting Mooner's description,” Ranger said. “I thought we might discuss the subject with Dave Vincent.”
Lula and Connie looked my way. “What's happened to Mooner?”
“Disappeared,” I said. “Just like Dougie.”
Stephanie Plum 7 - Seven Up
8
RANGER WAS DRIVING a black Mercedes that looked fresh off the showroom floor. Ranger's cars were always black and always new and always of questionable ownership. He had a pager and a cell phone clipped to his visor and a police scanner under the dash. And I knew from past experience that there'd be a sawed-off shotgun and an assault weapon hidden somewhere in the car and a semi-automatic clipped to his belt. Ranger is one of the few civilians in Trenton with a permit to carry concealed. He owns office buildings in Boston, has a daughter in Florida by a failed marriage, has worked worldwide as a mercenary, and has a moral code that isn't entirely in sync with our legal system. I have no idea who the heck he is . . . but I like him.
The Snake Pit wasn't open for business, but there were cars parked in the small lot adjacent to the building and the front door was ajar. Ranger parked next to a black BMW, and we went inside. A cleaning crew worked at polishing the bar and washing the floor. Three muscle-bound guys stood to one side, drinking coffee and talking. I assumed they were wrestlers going over the game plan. And I could see why Grandma left bingo early to come to The Snake Pit. The possibility that one or more of the coffee drinkers could have his underwear ripped off in the mud held some appeal. Truth is, I think naked men are kind of strange looking what with their doodles and ding-dong hanging loose like they do. Nevertheless, there's the curiosity thing. I guess it's another one of those car crash experiences, where you feel compelled to look even if you know you'll be horrified.
Two men were sitting at a table reviewing what looked like a spreadsheet. They were in their fifties with health club bodies, dressed in slacks and lightweight sweaters. They looked up when we entered. One of them acknowledged Ranger.
“Dave Vincent and his accountant,” Ranger said to me. “Vincent is the one in the tan sweater. The one who nodded hello.”
Perfect for the house in Princeton.
Vincent stood and came over to us. He smiled when he saw my eye up close. “You must be Stephanie Plum.”
“I could have taken her out,” I said. “She caught me by surprise. It was an accident.”
“We're looking for Eddie DeChooch,” Ranger said to Vincent.
“Everyone is looking for DeChooch,” Vincent said. “The guy's nutty.”
“We thought he might be keeping in touch with his business partners.”
Dave Vincent shrugged. “I haven't seen him.”
“He's driving Mary Maggie's car.”
Vincent showed some annoyance. “I don't get involved with my employees' private lives. If Mary Maggie wants to loan Chooch a car that's her business.”
“If she's hiding him it becomes my business,” Ranger said.
And we turned and left.
“So,” I said when we got to the car. “That seemed to go well.”
Ranger grinned at me. “We'll see.”
“Now what?”
“Benny and Ziggy. They'll be at the club.”
“OH JEEZ,” BENNY said when he came to the door. “Now what?”
Ziggy was a step behind him. “We didn't do it.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Anything,” Ziggy said. “We didn't do anything.”
Ranger and I exchanged glances.
“Where is he?” I asked Ziggy.
“Where's who?”
“Mooner.”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No,” I said. “It's a real question. Mooner is missing.”
“Are you sure?”
Ranger and I gave them the silent stare-down.
“Crap,” Ziggy finally said.
WE LEFT BENNY and Ziggy with as much information as we had when we arrived. Which meant we had nothing. Not to mention that I felt as if I'd just participated in an Abbott and Costello routine.
“So that seemed to go almost as well as the interview with Vincent,” I said to Ranger.
This got me another smile. “Get in the car. We're visiting Mary Maggie next.”
I gave him a salute and got into the car. I wasn't sure we were accomplishing anything but it was a nice day to be riding around with Ranger. Riding with Ranger absolved me of responsibility. I was clearly the underling. And I was protected. No one would dare shoot at me when I was with Ranger. Or if they did shoot at me, I was pretty certain I wouldn't die.
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