Look Alive Twenty-Five

by Janet Evanovich

  I wasn’t worried about my image or my skills. I knew they both sucked.

  We did the evening cleanup and Ranger took the garbage to the dumpster while I watched on the monitor. He walked out, threw the bag in, and took a moment to check his iPhone. He looked around and returned to the deli.

  “This isn’t working,” I said to Ranger.

  “It’s only been two days,” Ranger said. “Have patience.”

  I locked up, and Ranger drove me to Morelli’s house.

  “You’re the deli manager,” Ranger said, idling at the curb, behind Morelli’s SUV. “You need to hire a waitress.”

  “Are you making a comment on my waitressing skills?”

  “Babe,” Ranger said. “You have no waitressing skills.”

  Morelli was asleep on the couch when I walked in. Bob was curled up in the recliner. He lifted his head, gave a single bark, and went back to sleep.

  “Hey,” I said to Morelli. “I’m home.”

  He sat up and blinked at me. “How’d it go? Were you kidnapped?”

  “Nope. No one was kidnapped. I think between Ranger’s surveillance and the police presence, this guy has been driven underground.”

  “He’s not underground,” Morelli said. “He’s just moving in a different direction. He’s playing with us.”

  Damn, I thought. I wish I’d said that.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I STUMBLED INTO the Rangeman lobby at six o’clock Monday morning. I took the elevator to Ranger’s apartment, let myself in, and crawled into bed. I woke up two hours later when Ranger appeared with coffee for me.

  “If you’re going to stay in bed, I’ll get undressed and join you,” Ranger said.

  “I’m not undressed,” I said.

  “I can take care of that,” Ranger said.

  I got out of bed and took the coffee from him. “What’s new?” I asked.

  “CSI tells us the extra shoes in the apartment have never been worn.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “It means there aren’t undiscovered victims out there.”

  I went to the kitchen, toasted a bagel, and buttered it.

  “I need to go to the office this morning,” I said. “I need to check in with Connie. And I need to go to my apartment to get clothes, and to make sure Rex is okay. Mrs. Delgado is looking in on him, but I want to make sure he has fresh water and enough food.”

  “I have a full morning here, so I’m sending you out with Luis,” Ranger said. “He’s new. And he’s young. Try to keep him away from Lula.”

  “How young is he?”

  “He’s legal. I just want him to keep his mind on the job. Some of my men have trouble concentrating when they’re around Lula.”

  “Shocking! And you?”

  “I don’t have a problem with Lula.” He reached out, pulled me close against him, and kissed me. “You’re my distraction.”

  The first kiss was playful. The next kiss lingered and deepened, and a rush of desire shot through me.

  “Oh boy,” I said. “This isn’t good.”

  “You have a problem?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you want me to solve it?”

  “No!”

  “I’m running out of time,” Ranger said.

  “Do you mean now or forever?”

  “Now. I’m supposed to be at a meeting.”

  “So, you weren’t intending to follow through?”

  His hands slipped under my T-shirt and moved up my rib cage to my breasts. “I can cancel the meeting.”

  “Ummmmm,” I said.

  Ranger removed a hand from my breast and went for his iPhone.

  “Wait,” I said.

  “Babe.”

  “I’m conflicted.”

  A text message dinged on his iPhone.

  “Is that your meeting?” I asked.

  “Yes. We’ll pick this up at a better time. Finish your bagel. Luis will be waiting for you in the control room.”

  This is definitely for the best, I thought. Probably.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  Easy to spot Luis when I entered the control room. He was the fresh-faced kid who was clearly nervous. And he had good reason to be nervous. If anything bad happened to me on his watch, his days at Rangeman would be over. I’m sure everyone else in the room was relieved that they were spared the job of guarding my body.

  Luis was just under six feet with Hispanic coloring and the body of an athlete as opposed to a gym monkey. I introduced myself, and he stood at military attention.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he said.

  “Not ‘ma’am,’” I said. “Stephanie.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Stephanie, ma’am,” he said.

  The other men were hunched over their computers, not making eye contact, trying not to laugh out loud.

  We took the elevator to the underground garage, signed out a fleet SUV, and Luis drove me to my apartment. He followed me to the second floor and waited while I unlocked my door.

  “Should I come in?” he asked.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  “Ranger said I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight.”

  “That’s going to be awkward since I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Stephanie,” he said. “I’ll wait right here in the hall.”

  I went to the kitchen and tapped on Rex’s cage. He poked his head out of his soup can den, blinked his tiny black eyes at me, and retreated back into his bedding. His water bottle was full, and his food cup was half full of hamster food. I dropped a peanut and a couple Froot Loops into the cage and told him I loved him.

  Twenty minutes later I was showered, dressed in clean clothes, and had a tote bag filled with enough overnight essentials for a couple days. I told Rex to be nice to Mrs. Delgado even though she had five cats, I locked my apartment, and I steered Luis to the stairs.

  “Next stop is the bail bonds office on Hamilton Avenue,” I told Luis.

  Traffic was light, and the weather was perfect. There was still a chill in the air, but by noon it be would in the high seventies. I was feeling good in my fleece sweatshirt, sitting in the immaculate Rangeman SUV.

  “This is going to be a good day,” I said to Luis. “I have a feeling. Everything is going to go right today.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Stephanie, ma’am,” he said.

  Luis parked at the curb in front of the office and followed me in. Connie was at her desk, and Lula was at the coffee machine.

  “Well, look at who we got here,” Lula said to Luis. “Hello, cutie. What’s your name?”

  “Luis, ma’am.”

  “I’m not no ‘ma’am,’ but I appreciate the respect,” Lula said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Luis said.

  Lula shook her head. “He’s a hunk of love, but I’m guessing he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

  “This is Lula, and this is Connie,” I said to Luis. “You can call them Lula and Connie.”

  “We got donuts on Connie’s desk if you want some,” Lula said. “The good ones are all gone, so we’d appreciate if you’d eat the lame ones that are left.”

  “Ranger doesn’t like us to eat donuts,” Luis said.

  “Hunh,” Lula said. “You do everything Ranger tells you to do?”

  “Yes,” Luis said.

  Vinnie’s office door banged open, and Vinnie looked out at us.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” Vinnie said to me. “Where’s Waggle? Just because I got kidnapped don’t mean you can stop working.”

  “Excuse me?” I said, eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah, excuse us,” Lula said. “We’ve been working at your dumb-ass deli. And on top of that we went after Waggle, and I got shot in the hair. You got some nerve accusin
g us of not working.”

  “Just get Waggle,” Vinnie said. “I got Harry up my ass.”

  “Least it’s something you enjoy,” Lula said.

  Vinnie growled and slammed and locked his door.

  “We have a couple hours,” I said to Lula. “I guess we could try to find Waggle.”

  “I’m game,” Lula said, hanging her bag on her shoulder. “But I couldn’t help notice you said we could try to find Waggle. That don’t show a lot of confidence. That’s a different attitude to ‘Let’s go get the sonnovabitch.’ I got a more aggressive frame of mind, being that I need to avenge my hairdo getting ruined.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Let’s go get the sonnovabitch. First stop is the deli so I can open the door. Second stop is Food Stuff. Hopefully Russel Frick is working.”

  Luis drove us to the deli, and I hopped out and gave the key to Stretch.

  “You are now the official keeper of the key,” I said.

  “I don’t want the key,” he said. “The key would imply manager, and managers have a short shelf life here.”

  “I think that’s over. I haven’t been snatched and Ranger wasn’t snatched. Besides, you don’t have to take the garbage out. You’re just in charge of locking and unlocking the door.”

  “Do I get more money?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the point?”

  “Fine! Great! I’ll give you five dollars extra every day you take charge of the key.”

  “Done,” Stretch said.

  I gave him the key, returned to the SUV, and Luis drove Lula and me to Food Stuff. We marched into the store and immediately spotted Frick.

  “There he is,” Lula said. “He’s bagging, just like always. I’ll get a cart, and we can pick up a few things and get in line.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I said. “We don’t need to shop. We just want to talk to him.”

  “I still think we should buy something,” Lula said. “A rotisserie chicken or something.”

  Luis was looking around as if at any moment disaster would strike.

  “It’s Food Stuff,” I said to Luis. “You can relax.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, standing at attention, hand on his sidearm.

  I went to the checkout to talk to Frick, and Lula went off to look at the chickens.

  Frick stepped aside when he saw me. “I heard you had problems apprehending Victor,” he said.

  “It wasn’t an ideal environment to make a capture.”

  “It’s not an ideal environment for anything. You play bad music, and you could get shot. I didn’t see you Friday night. I thought for sure you’d be back.”

  “I had other things going on,” I said.

  “But now you’re looking for Waggle.”

  “Yes.”

  “I haven’t got anything to tell you,” Frick said. “He went home with a girl named Jillian. She’s a regular. He’s probably moved on to someone else by now. I don’t usually see him between gigs. Once in a while I run into him at Skoogie’s office when we need to pick up a check. We don’t make anything from Snake Pit, but Skoogie schedules private events. Mostly fraternity parties.”

  “Do you have any private events coming up?”

  “Later in the month. Football season.”

  “Did Victor and Skoogie have anything else going on? A personal relationship? A sideline business?”

  “I don’t know about that. Victor was interested in doing some acting, if you call that a sideline business. He wanted Skoogie to sell a reality show about the band, but nothing ever came of it. Victor was big on reality shows. Some of his ideas were pretty freaky.”

  “Victor seems a little unhinged,” I said.

  “He has his moments,” Frick said.

  Lula bustled up with her cart. “They didn’t have any chickens out yet, and I didn’t like what I was seeing with the cakes, but I found the new copy of Star magazine.”

  Lula paid for her magazine, we left Food Stuff, and I told Luis to drive to the Hamilton Building on State Street.

  “That’s where the agent’s got an office,” Lula said from the back seat. “Why are we going there again?”

  “Because I have a good feeling about today. And because I have time to kill.”

  Luis parked in a lot half a block from the building. We walked the short distance, took the elevator to the second floor, and walked to the end of the hall. The door to Skoogie’s office was open, and his assistant was standing at her desk, looking confused. She gave a yelp of surprise when we walked in. She recognized me and clapped a hand over her heart.

  “Good heavens,” she said. “You startled me.”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably. If you’re looking for Mr. Skoogie, I’m afraid he isn’t here.”

  “Is he still on that business trip?” Lula asked.

  “No. He returned this weekend. I actually expected him to be here by now. When I arrived this morning, the front door was unlocked, and Mr. Skoogie’s office door was open. I thought he probably came in early and went out for coffee or a bagel, but he hasn’t returned.” Her eyes flicked to the open inner office door.

  Lula and I went to the door and peeked in.

  “Looks to me like he’s using his shoe for a paperweight,” Lula said. “That’s not real sanitary. You don’t know what that shoe’s stepped in.”

  “He’s never done that before,” the assistant said. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  “Have you tried reaching him on his cellphone?” I asked.

  “Yes. He’s not picking up.”

  “Is there a Mrs. Skoogie?”

  “No. He’s divorced. Three times.”

  “Are there security cameras in this building?”

  “In the lobby.”

  Lula looked over at me. “I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t even want to go there. Besides, where’s the dumpster? There’s always supposed to be a dumpster.”

  I called Morelli and told him about Skoogie and the shoe. “I’m probably jumping to conclusions,” I said, “but I thought you might want to have someone check the security camera in the lobby to see if Skoogie was here this morning.”

  Luis raised his hand. “Excuse me, ma’am, Stephanie. Rangeman provides security for this building. We would monitor the camera in the lobby.”

  “Never mind,” I said to Morelli. “Problem solved.”

  “Do you want me to send someone over to bag the shoe?”

  “Not yet. I’ll close the door to his office, and let you know what Ranger finds on the rewind. It’s not as if this perfectly fits the pattern.”

  I called Ranger and asked him to check the video.

  “This guy really likes himself,” Lula said, looking at the photos on the wall. “His private office here is filled with pictures, and he’s in just about all of them. He’s got pictures of himself with Mickey Mouse and Beyoncé and Bill Clinton and Keith Richards and Richard Simmons. And there’s lots of pictures with people I don’t know. Here’s one of him standing in front of the deli.”

  “Mr. Skoogie used to eat at the deli all the time when it was owned by Mr. Sitz,” the assistant said. “They were good friends. They were roommates in college.”

  It was like getting hit in the face with a pie.

  “Shazam,” Lula said.

  I called Morelli back. “Come bag the shoe,” I said. “There’s a connection.”

  I got a text message from Ranger. Skoogie arrived at 7:10 a.m. Took elevator. Never left.

  “Is there another way off this floor?” I asked the assistant. “Are there fire stairs?”

  “By the elevator,” she said.

  “Do they go to the lobby?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never u
sed them.”

  “What about this door in the corner?” Lula asked. “Is it a way out?”

  “It’s a coat closet,” the assistant said.

  Lula opened the door and a man fell out. He had a knife stuck in his neck, and he looked surprised.

  “Holy cow!” Lula said, jumping back.

  The assistant shrieked and fainted.

  I was sucking air and trying not to look. The bagel I’d had for breakfast felt like it was halfway up my throat.

  Luis was the only one who didn’t look like he was going to throw up. He took a throw pillow from the two-seater couch in Skoogie’s office and put it under the assistant’s feet. He was young, but he wasn’t a lightweight, I thought.

  “He’s dead,” Lula said. “I hate dead. And he brushed against me. And now I have dead cooties. I got the creepy-crawly dead cooties. I need something. I need a donut. Who’s got a donut?”

  “I have a granola bar in my bag,” I said.

  “That’s not the same as a donut,” Lula said. “It doesn’t have the same therapeutic value.”

  I made another call to Morelli.

  “Where are you?” I asked.

  “I’m at my desk. I’m finishing something up, and then I’ll grab a uniform and come collect the shoe.”

  “Okay, but there’s a d-d-dead guy here now, so could you hurry a little?”

  “A dead guy?”

  “I think it might be Leonard Skoogie, and he has a knife in his neck and a number two written on his forehead in black marker.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  The assistant had her eyes open and was coherent.

  “What’s your name?” Luis asked her.

  “Miriam,” she said.

  “Stay down for a couple minutes more,” Luis said to Miriam. “It’s all okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” she said. “Mr. Skoogie is . . . you know.”

  “He’s dead!” Lula said. “God sakes, the man is dead. And all I got is a granola bar.”