Fearless Fourteen

by Janet Evanovich

I stepped into the powder room, switched the light on, and stifled a sob. Blue hair, blue eyebrows, blue eyelashes, blue lips, blue face. I soaked a hand towel and dabbed at my cheek. Nothing happened.

  Morelli was behind me, smiling. “You look like a Smurf. I think I'm getting turned on.”

  “Everything turns you on.”

  “Not everything. Remember the time you fell off the fire escape and rolled in the dog diarrhea?”

  “I took the briefcase out of Gratelli's car. There's a chance it contains directions for finding the money from the robbery.”

  Morelli went to the attache case and flipped the locks. “Guess I don't have to worry about a dye bomb,” he said. He raised the lid and looked inside.

  Everything was soaked in blue dye.

  “Gratelli didn't get the memo telling him to put his important papers in plastic pouches,” Morelli said. “If there were directions in here, they're gone.”

  I got a spoon out of the silverware drawer and tasted the spaghetti sauce.

  “Yum,” I said.

  “It needs to simmer,” Morelli said. “I like to let the r sausage soak in the gravy It's for tomorrow. We're supposed to have dinner at your parents' house tonight.”

  I put the spoon in the dishwasher. “I bet I know where the money is hidden. I bet it's in your basement.”

  “I've looked in the basement.”

  “I bet it's buried. I bet it's under your floor.”

  “That floor is poured concrete.”

  “And?”

  Morelli partially covered his sauce. “I'm not going to take a jackhammer to my basement floor.”

  We trooped downstairs and stared at the floor. It had just been professionally steam-cleaned to remove the bloodstains.

  “This is an old house,” I said. “The floor down here looks pretty new.”

  “I had it put in two years ago. It used to be dirt.”

  “Omigod!”

  “I'm going to forget we had this conversation,” Morelli said. “I don't care if there's a fortune buried here. It's not like the money would be mine. It's bank money.”

  “The bank would be happy to see it.”

  “The bank would think it was a pain in the ass. They've already collected the insurance.”

  “What about the insurance company?”

  “Screw the insurance company,” Morelli said.

  “You would let nine million dollars sit under this concrete?”

  “Yeah.” He toed the concrete. “I like my floor. The guys did a good job on it. It's nice and smooth.”

  “If we got married, and you died, I'd have this floor up before your body got cold.”

  “As long as you don't slit my throat while I'm sleeping.” He looked down at me. “You wouldn't, would you?”

  “Not for money.”

  A HALF HOUR later, I was fresh out of the shower and I was still blue. I got dressed in a clean T-shirt and a pair of Morelli's sweats, and I padded downstairs.

  “Help,” I said to Morelli.

  “I have some turpentine in the garage,” he said. “Maybe that'll work.”

  He opened his back door to go to the garage, and there were two people digging in his yard. They looked up and saw Morelli and took off, leaving their shovels behind.

  “Anyone you know?” Morelli asked me.

  “Nope.”

  My cell phone rang. It was Grandma Mazur, and she was excited. “I just saw you on television,” she said. “You were on the early evening news. They were doing a report on the murder in Morelli's basement and they said it was believed it was tied to that bank robbery that happened years ago. And then there was this part where Brenda found a briefcase in the dead man's car and it had directions about where the money was buried. And some lady said she was pretty sure Dominic Rizzi gave the money to his Aunt Rose and Rose hid it somewhere before she died. Just think-Morelli could have hidden treasure in his backyard!”

  I glanced out the kitchen window at the hole the two diggers had started. “And they said all that on television?”

  “Yep. It was a pip of a report.”

  I hung up and passed the news on to Morelli.

  “There might be money buried in my basement,” Morelli said. “But I'm pretty sure the only thing anyone is going to find in my yard has been left there by Bob.”

  Morelli jogged across his backyard to his garage and returned with a small can of turpentine. We dabbed it on my hand and rubbed and nothing happened.

  “I'll call the crime lab and see if they have a suggestion,” Morelli said.

  The doorbell rang and Mooner answered. “It's some dude named Gary,” Mooner yelled at me. “He says he's a stalker.”

  I went to the door, and Gary tried hard not to notice I was blue. He looked at his feet, and he looked above my head, and he cleared his throat.

  “It's okay” I said. “I know I'm blue.”

  “It caught me by surprise,” he said. “I didn't want to seem rude.”

  “Just so you know, Brenda is blue, too.”

  “Is this some art thing?”

  “No. It was an accident. What's up?”

  “I had the toilet dream again, only this time a bull came charging down the southbound lane, right at Brenda.”

  “Jeez. What happened then?”

  “I woke up.” His attention shifted to Mooner and Zook. “Are they playing Minionfire? What's their PC?”

  “Zook and Moondog.”

  “Are you kidding me? They're famous. Zook is like a god. He's a Blybold Wizard.”

  Gary inched his way in and stood behind the couch, watching over Zook's shoulder. “Feel the power,” Gary said. “The dragon's coming. There he is! There he is! Go arcane.”

  Zook turned and looked at him. “How did you know the dragon was coming?”

  “Ever since I got hit by lightning, things happen in my head before they happen on the screen. It's like I'm a step ahead of cable, and I'm way faster than dial-up.”

  “Whoa,” Zook and Mooner said, eyes glued to Gary.

  Zook looked over at me. “You're blue.”

  “It's a long story.”

  “Who's your PC?” Mooner asked Gary.

  “I haven't got one. I just lurk. I thought it wasn't fair for me to play with the lightning advantage.”

  “Far out,” Mooner said. “A dude with honor.”

  Morelli ambled in. “We need to go to your parents' now.” He checked out Gary.

  “Is this the stalker?”

  Gary extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said to Morelli.

  “Everyone sign off,” I said. “We're going to my parents' house for dinner.”

  My grandmother opened the door, and we all marched in. Zook, Mooner, Gary, Morelli, me, and Bob.

  “You better set more plates,” Grandma yelled to my mother in the kitchen. “We got a group.”

  My father was in the living room, dozing in front of the television. He picked his head up and looked at everyone standing in the foyer. He mumbled something that sounded a little like friggin' mutants and went back to napping.

  Bob bounced around, doing his happy dance.

  “Isn't he something,” Grandma said. She patted his head, and Bob took off for the kitchen.

  A moment later, my mother shrieked, and Bob bounded out of the kitchen and streaked through the dining room with a ham firmly clenched in his mouth. He skidded to a stop in front of my father and dropped the ham.

  My grandmother ran in and scooped the ham up off the floor. “Thirty-second rule in effect,” my grandmother said, returning the ham to the kitchen. There was the sound of water running, and moments later, my grandmother reappeared with the ham on a plate. “Dinners ready,” she said. “Everyone sit.”

  We dragged extra chairs to the table, and I shuffled plates and silverware around. Bob took his place under the table, ever on guard for food to fall out of someone's mouth onto the rug.

  My mother brought in creamed corn, green beans with bacon, and mash
ed potatoes. She got to the table, looked at me, and her mouth dropped open.

  “Booby-trapped attache case,” I said. “No big deal.”

  She set the side dishes on the table and made the sign of the cross. “Dear God,” she said. And she returned to the kitchen. I heard the cabinet door creak open and moments later, my mother returned with a glass of whiskey.

  “Isn't this nice,” my grandmother said. “It feels like a party. We even got the stalker here.”

  My mother tossed some whiskey down her throat.

  “Stalker?” my father said, mashed potato bowl in hand.

  “Yep,” Grandma said. “He's a genuine stalker. He's even got a restraining order against him.”

  My father considered that for a beat and went back to filling his plate.

  Clearly, he didn't find a stalker to be especially interesting. Now, if Gary had been a cross-dresser, my father would have had something to work with.

  “So how's the treasure hunt going?” Grandma asked Morelli. “Did you find all that money yet?”

  This got everyone's attention.

  My mother had a grip on her whiskey glass. “What money?”

  “I guess I'm the only one who watches television,” Grandma said. “The early news ran a piece on the dead guy in Morelli's basement.”

  “Why don't I know about this?” my mother asked.

  “I guess I forgot to tell you, being that I was so busy answering all the phone calls,” Grandma said.

  “You didn't kill him, did you?” my mother asked me.

  “No! I just discovered the body.”

  “The dead guy's name was Allen Gratelli,” Grandma said. “Stephanie broke into his car and found his suitcase, and that's how she got blue. And it turns out Allen Gratelli and Dominic Rizzi were friends, and the television reporter said Allen Gratelli was in Morelli's basement looking for all that money that was never recovered from the robbery. Nine million dollars, and Joseph's Aunt Rose, rest in peace, hid it somewhere and now everyone's looking for it.”

  “Sweet,” Mooner said. “You could get high-def TiVo with nine million dollars.”

  “I could get a lawyer for my mom,” Zook said.

  “I could get a sports car,” Grandma said.

  “You don't have a driver's license,” my mother told her.

  “I could get a driver,” Grandma said. “A hot one.”

  My father had his head down, shoveling in ham. My father would like to see the hot driver deliver Grandma Mazur to the old people's home in Hamilton Township.

  “Maybe I could find the money,” Gary said. “I could divine it.”

  “Dude,” Mooner said. “That would be awesome. Can you, like, really do that?”

  “I found a chicken salad sandwich once. I found it in my sock drawer,” Gary said.

  “Badass,” Mooner said. “Wicked cool.”

  “What are you doing now?” Grandma asked Mooner. “Are you still involved in the pharmaceutical industry?”

  “I mostly gave that up. I was getting stiff competition from the Russians. I've been reviewing my options, and I thought I might open a Japanese teahouse. Either that or a nudie bar.”

  My father picked his head up. “Don't you need money to open a nudie bar?”

  “Yeah, dude, isn't that a bummer? Where's the justice? I mean, where's the incentive for the little businessman?”

  “I think you should open a nudie bar for women,” Grandma said. “There's lots of bars for men where they can see naked women, but there's no place us women can go to see ding dongs.”

  “I dig it,” Mooner said. “You want private parts parity. Far out.”

  My mother chugged the rest of her whiskey.

  Morelli was slouched back in his chair, taking it all in. He draped an arm across my shoulders and whispered into my ear. “Do women really want to see ding dongs?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “as long as they don't have to touch them.”

  “Is it sexual?”

  “No. Morbid curiosity.”

  “How about mine?” he asked.

  “Yours is definitely sexual... and touchable.”

  He nuzzled my neck. “Can we go home now?”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “We haven't had dessert. And besides, I feel funny shazaming with Zook in the house.”

  “We could shazam in the garage.” “I don't think so.” “The SUV?” “No!”

  “I'm becoming more motivated to find Loretta,” Morelli said.

  Stephanie Plum 14 - Fearless Forteen

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was a little after eight when Morelli pulled to the curb in front of his house. A small crowd was gathered on the sidewalk, watching two men dig in Morelli's tiny front yard. Morelli got out of his car and joined the onlookers.

  “Excuse me,” Morelli said to the guys digging. “What are you doing?”

  “Digging,” the one guy said.

  “This is private property,” Morelli said.

  “What?”

  “Private property.”

  “I think there's something about digging,” the guy said. “Like people only own the top of the property.”

  “I think you're wrong,” Morelli said.

  The guy kept digging. “And why would I give a rat's ass what you think?”

  “Because I own this house, and if you don't stop digging, I'm going to have you arrested for destruction of personal property.”

  “Look at me-I'm so scared,” the guy said. “Call the cops. Call the cops on me.”

  Morelli badged him. “I am the cops.”

  The guy looked at Morelli's badge. “Oh. Sorry.”

  Everyone dispersed after that, and Morelli, Zook, Mooner, Gary, and I trooped into the house. Morelli walked straight through and swore when he looked out his back window. His backyard was filled with people digging, and his garage door was open.

  “This is unbelievable,” Morelli said.

  “Dude,” Mooner said. “You should sell tickets. Like, it would be a hundred dollars to dig for a half hour. We could be, like, rich, dude.”

  Morelli walked out his back door, unholstered his gun, fired a shot into the ground, and the diggers scattered like roaches when the light goes on. He crossed the yard to his garage and returned with a roll of yellow crime scene tape.

  “Do you think that's going to help?” I asked him.

  “Its worth a try.”

  Ten minutes later, Morelli's entire property was behind the yellow tape. Zook, Mooner, and Gary were in the living room making deals with the wood elves, and Morelli and I were sitting out on the back stoop, watching Bob sniff around the holes in his yard.

  “I'm going to have to jackhammer my basement,” Morelli said. “This isn't going to stop until we find the money.”

  “If we found the money, Loretta might even turn up.”

  “I wouldn't count on it. I think Dom did the time and figured he didn't owe his partners anything. Problem was, for whatever reason, Dom couldn't put his hands on the money right away.”

  “Maybe because it was buried in Rose's basement and you came along and inherited the house and poured concrete down there.”

  “Yeah. And it keeps getting worse. Dom's nephew is living in this house, so he can't just blow it up, and thanks to the early news, half of Trenton is on a nine-million-dollar scavenger hunt.”

  “And Loretta?”

  “I'm guessing Loretta is being held hostage by one or both of the partners until Dom forks over the money. I'd feel a lot better if we could get to her before the money is found. There's no guarantee she won't be disposed of the instant she's no longer useful.”

  “We need to get Dom,” I said. “He can take us to the other two partners.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I'm sure he's worried about his nephew. He hates the thought that Zook is with you. Plus, he wants him away from this house. And maybe he's thinking there's a possibility that whoever has Loretta will decide to hedge hi
s bets and snatch Zook, too. So I think Dom isn't far away. I think he's keeping his eye on the house and on Zook. He's only been out of jail for a week, and he doesn't have a job. We know he hasn't got a lot of money.”