Fearless Fourteen

by Janet Evanovich

  Unfortunately, he won't be able to talk to you, so you'll have to run with it.

  If you feel like you're in trouble, do whatever you have to do. It's okay if you abort.“ ”I'm a little weirded out,“ I said. Morelli looked down at me. Serious. ”You don't have to do this.“ ”Yes, I do.“ He kissed me on the forehead. ”You'll be fine.“ I went to the window and watched him cross the lot to his car. He opened the driver's side door, stood for a moment, and then slammed the door shut without getting in. My window was closed, so I couldn't hear what Morelli was saying, but clearly he was talking to himself. He was waving his arms and pacing and his face was getting red. He punched the car and stood hands on hips, staring down at his shoes. I've seen him do this a million times. Getting a grip. I called him on my cell. ”I'll be fine,“ I told him. ”This really sucks,“ he said. And he got in his car and drove away. The storage facility chosen by the Feds was down by the river, off Lamberton Road. I took Hamilton and passed by the bonds office and the hospital. I turned at the junction of South Broad and felt my way around until I hit Lamberton. I was watching my mirror for a tail, but I didn't pick one up. I turned onto a private road leading to a small industrial park, and kept driving until I saw the sign for the storage facility. The facility itself was about a half acre in size and protected by a chain-link fence. The gate to the fence was open. There was a one-room cinder-block building that served as office. So far as I could see, the office was vacant. Beyond the office were rows of storage lockers, each the size of a single-car garage. I drove down the second row of lockers and stopped at number 24. I got out of my car and looked around. Very quiet. No sign of the fourth partner. No indication of police presence. I had the wire switched on, but I wasn't saying anything. I walked to the garage door, took a deep breath, and shoved the key in. The door rolled up to reveal a dark maroon Econoline van with Pennsylvania plates. I looked in the driver's side window. The key was in the ignition, as promised. I wrenched the door open and climbed in. I was feeling calmer now that everything was in motion. Piece of cake, I said to myself. Cool as a cucumber. Wonder Woman on board. I cranked the engine over, backed the van out, put my car in the garage, and rolled the garage door down. I carefully drove the van out of the storage facility, parked on the side of the road, and dialed the number the fourth partner gave me. ”Long time no hear,“ he said. ”I had things to do. I had to look in on a skip.“ ”Is that all you had to do?“ ”Pretty much.“ ”What about waiting for the police to set the trap?“ ”Nope. Didn't do that.“ ”I told you I would know. I know everything.“ ”Not everything,“ I said. ”I know you've got phony money in the back of that phony Econoline. I know you got the van out of a phony garage off Lamberton. I know you're wired. Now, here's the deal. Hang the scarf in the window when you're ready to make a trade without police involvement. If I don't see the scarf by noon tomorrow, I'm cutting Loretta's hand off.“ ”But I don't...“ He was gone. ”He knew,“ I said into the wire. ”He knew the whole deal. You need to clean house. He's on the inside.“ I retraced MY route back to the garage and traded the van for my car. Still no one walking around, but I knew police were planted somewhere. I drove out of the industrial park and went straight to Morelli's house. School was still in session. Just me and Bob at home. I took the red scarf from the upstairs window and set it on Morelli's desk. All the way home, I'd been boiling inside, seething mad that this had gotten screwed up. I wanted it over and done. I wanted Loretta to be safe. I was angry at Dom for running away from me, and I was angry at the police that they couldn't manage a secure operation. I sat in Morelli's chair and forced myself to think. Who is this fourth partner? A cop? A computer whiz? A professional crook? I looked at the red scarf. He wanted it hung from the second-floor window. Why the second floor? Wouldn't it be easier to see it from the first floor if you were walking or driving past the house? I swiveled around and stared out the window. The houses on the opposite side of the street were all two-story, like Morelli's. Easy to see into their bedroom windows from here. The convenient assumption would be that the partner lived in one of these houses, but Morelli had already gone door-to-door in his neighborhood and hadn't found anything odd. I called Morelli, but got his voice mail. I called my mother, and got my grandmother. She said my mother couldn't come to the phone because she'd taken a pill and fallen asleep after seeing me wrestling with the chicken on News at Noon. I called the office and was transferred to Connie's cell. She was at the courthouse trying to help resolve the Susan Stitch mess. My modus operandi when investigating is, if you have no ideas... eat something. It doesn't help to get ideas, but it passes the time. So I trekked downstairs and nuked a tray of mac and cheese. This got me to feeling very mellow, because it's impossible to stay upset while eating mac and cheese. Here's the positive side, I told myself. You continue to make little inroads on the fourth partner's identity. If you can't find Dom and get your hands on the money, maybe you can find the fourth partner. He's kind of full of himself, and that confidence could be his undoing. I called Ranger. ”I want to get into Stanley Zero's apartment again,“ I told him. ”That's a sealed crime scene,“ Ranger said. ”And?“ ”It would be safer if we went in at night.“ ”I can wait.“ ”I'll meet you in his apartment parking lot at eleven.“ I reached the school just as it was letting out. Zook ambled over to the car with his usual cluster of misfits and pulled the passenger-side door open. He slouched into the seat, dropped his backpack on the floor between his feet, and looked over at me. ”The kids at school are talking.“ I gave the Sentra some gas and moved into the stream of traffic. ”What are they saying?“ ”They're saying my mom cut out on me. Like maybe she found the nine million and took off with it.“ ”They're wrong.“ ”I sort of wouldn't blame her. That's a lot of money.“ ”Your mom is okay. She's just not... accessible right now.“ ”What's that mean?“ ”I can't tell you, but we're trying to work it all out.“ He pushed his backpack around with a foot that seemed way too big for his slim frame. He was like a puppy that hadn't grown up to his feet yet. ”I'm not some dumb little kid,“ he said. ”I deserve to know what's going on with my mom.“ I turned onto Hamilton and slid a sideways glance at him. He wasn't dumb, and he wasn't a little kid. He was a big kid. And he had a point. He needed to know what was going on with his mom. ”You're right,“ I said. ”You deserve to know. But you can't tell anyone. No one at school. Not Mooner. Not Gary. No one.“ He nodded his head. ”Three men robbed the bank with your Uncle Dom. Two are dead, and your uncle is in hiding. The fourth partner has your mom and is holding her for ransom.