Lean Mean Thirteen

FIVE

It was mid-afternoon and still gray and drizzly, but the drizzle wasn't freezing on the roads. I thought that was a good sign. I was on my way to the mall in Rangers car and hat, and I was feeling very kick-ass. I was armed with the pepper spray and the stun gun. I had my cuffs. I had my paperwork. I was ready to do a takedown.

I parked at the food court entrance and made a tour of the concessions. Pizza, burgers, ice cream, smoothies, Chinese, cookies, subs, Mexican, sandwiches. I didn't see Diggery. Then I did a fast scan of the tables and spotted him on the far side, against a wall. He was talking to someone, and there were papers spread across the table.

I got a diet soda and found an empty table just behind Diggery. He was busy talking and didn't notice me. He seemed to be filling out some sort of form. He finished the form, gave it to the woman across from him, and she gave him some money and left. A new person immediately sat down and gave Diggery a large yellow envelope.

I wasn't taking any chances with this. I wasn't going to give Diggery an opportunity to bolt and run. I quietly moved to Diggery and clapped a bracelet on his right wrist.

Diggery looked down at the cuff and then up at me. "Fuck," Diggery said.

"You need to get re-bonded," I told him. "You missed your court date."

"I'm conducting business now," Diggery said. "A little respect, okay? I don't come barging into your office, do I?"

"This isn't an office. It's a food court. What the heck are you doing?"

"He's doing my taxes," the woman across from him said. "He does them every year."

I looked at the woman. "You let him do your taxes?"

"He's certifiable."

Couldn't argue with that. "He's also under arrest," I told her. "You're going to have to make other arrangements."

"What arrangements? I can't do these forms. I can't figure them out."

Four more people came forward. Three men and a woman.

"What's going on?" one of the men asked. "What's the holdup?"

"Simon has to leave now," I told him.

"No way. I've been waiting for an hour, and I'm next in line. You want a piece of Simon, take a number."

"Get up," I said to Diggery.

"It’s gonna get ugly," he said. "You don’t want to piss off Oscar over there. He don't got a lot of patience, and he's missing his afternoon TV shows to do this."

"I can't believe you're doing taxes."

"It was just one of them things that mushroomed. Not that it should be so surprising since I have a very strong entrepreneurial side to me."

I looked at my watch. "If we hustle, I can get you bonded out today, and you can be back here in a couple hours."

"I'm not waiting no more couple hours," Oscar said, giving me a shot to the shoulder that knocked me into the woman behind me.

I took the stun gun out of my coat pocket. "Back off," I said to Oscar.

"Simon is in violation of his bond, and he needs to go with me."

"I've got one of those too," the woman behind me said. And ZINNNNG.

When I came around, I was on my back on the floor, and I was looking at the rent-a-cop from the lingerie trip with Grandma.

"Are you okay?" he said. "Did you have a spell? Can you get a flashback from a stun gun?"

"It's my life," I said to him. "It's complicated."

He dragged me up and set me in a chair. "Do you want water or something?"

"Yeah, water would be good."

By the time he came with the water, the clanging in my head had almost completely stopped. I sipped the water and looked around. No Diggery. His clients were gone too.

No doubt moved on to a taco stand or gas station. I was missing my cuffs and stun gun. I was probably lucky they hadn't taken my shoes and my watch.

I retreated to the parking lot, and carefully maneuvered the car onto the highway. I drove on autopilot and suddenly realized I was stopped in front of my parents' house. I checked to make sure I was no longer drooling, then went into the house. My dad was in front of the television, sound asleep with the paper draped over his stomach. My mother and grandmother were in the kitchen, cooking.

Grandma was wearing tight black spandex yoga pants and a pink T-shirt that said I'm Sassy, and she'd dyed her hair red. My mother was at the stove, but the ironing board was up, and the iron was plugged in. I suspected it was the red hair that got the iron out.

Since the iron was already out, I decided I'd just jump in. "So," I said to Grandma, "how'd the date go?"

"It was pretty good," Grandma said. "The funeral parlor had a new cookie. Chocolate with white chocolate chips. And they did a real good job with Harry Rozinski. You couldn't hardly tell half his nose was eaten away with the skin cancer."

"Was he wearing jewelry?"

"No. But Lorraine Birnbaum was next door in viewing room #4, and she was all decked out. She was wearing a real nice-looking watch, and they left her wedding band and diamond on her. The diamond was real big too. You probably don't remember Lorraine. She moved away when you were little. She came back to live with her daughter after her husband died last year, but she didn't last too long. Her memorial said she was being buried on Friday."

"Did Elmer behave himself?"

"Yeah. That was the only disappointment. I was ready to put out, but he got some acid reflux from the cookies and had to go home."

My mother was at the stove sautéing ground beef for stuffed peppers. She reached for the cupboard where she kept her liquor stash, paused, then pulled herself together and went on with the sautéing.

"Sissy Cramp and I went shopping today," Grandma said, "and I got these new clothes and went to the beauty parlor. I thought I should spruce up since Elmer has all that nice black hair. It's a marvel that at his age he hasn't got a gray hair on his head."

"He hasn't got any hair on his head," I told Grandma. "He wears a wig."

"That would explain a lot of things," Grandma said.

My mother and I looked at each other and shared a grimace.

"I read somewhere red is the hot color for hair this year," Grandma said. "So I had Dolly do me red this time. What do you think?"

"I think it's fun," I told Grandma. "It brings out the color in your eyes."

I could see my mother bite into her lower lip, and I knew she was eyeing the liquor cabinet again.

"II makes me feel like a whole new person," Grandma said. "Sissy says I look just like Shirley MacLaine."

I zipped my jacket. "I just stopped in to say hello. I have to get back to the office."

I checked myself out in the hall mirror on my way to the door to make sure there were no leftover effects from the stun gun… like my tongue hanging out or my eyes rolling around in my head. I didn't notice anything, so I left my parents' house, buckled myself into the Cayenne, and called Lula.

"Un hunh," Lula said.

"I'm going to check on Carl Coglin. Want to ride along with me?"

"Sure. Maybe I can explode another squirrel on myself."

Five minutes later, I picked her up in front of the bonds office.

"Now this is what I call a car," Lula said, getting into the Cayenne. "Only one place you get a car like this."

"It's Rangers."

"Don't I know it. I get a rush just sitting in it. I swear, that man is so hot and so fine it's like he isn't even human."

"Mmm," I said.

"Mmm. What's that supposed to mean? You think he isn't fine?"

"He involved me in a murder."

"He told you to choke Dickie in front of the whole law office staff?"

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"Not that Dickie don't deserve getting choked."

"Dickie's scum."

"Fuckin’ A," Lula said.

"Although it would appear I'm the sole beneficiary in his will."

"Say what?"

"Apparently, he had a will drawn up when we were married, making me heir, and he never got around to changing it."

"How do you know that?"

"Joyce has a copy. She told the police about it, and they brought me in for questioning."

"Then it's Joyce that involved you in this murder."

"Yes!"

"Bitch," Lula said.

I drove up Hamilton and pointed the Porsche toward North Trenton. It was four o'clock, and another day was slipping by without a capture. If this continued, I'd have to scrounge around for another job. At least something part-time.

"What's the plan here?" Lula wanted to know.

"If he's home, we grab him and cuff him and drag him to the car. You have cuffs, right?"

"Not with me. You're the big-deal bounty hunter. You're supposed to have the cuffs."

"I lost my cuffs."

"Again? Honest to goodness, I've never seen anybody lose things like you."

"You usually have cuffs," I said to Lula.

"They're sort of attached to my bed. Tank was over, and we got playful."

Eeek. Either one of them in handcuffs attached to a bed wasn't a good picture. "I didn't realize you were a couple."

"We're one of them couples who don't see each other all the time. We just see each other some of the time. And sometimes it goes to once in a while."

"Okay, then we can grab Coglin and stun-gun him. Do you have your stun gun?"

"Sure I got my stun gun." Lula pulled her stun gun out of her big purse.

"Uh-oh, low battery."

I knew she had her Glock. And I knew it was loaded. But I didn't especially want her to shoot Coglin.

"How about I grab him and sit on him until he gives up?" Lula said.

"I guess that would work."

I cruised down Coglin's street and idled in front of his house. Lights were off inside. I drove around the block and scoped out the back of the house. No car parked in the alley. I cut the engine and Lula and I got out and walked to Coglin's back door. I rapped on the door and announced myself. No answer.

Lula had her hand on the doorknob. "Its unlocked," she said, pushing the door open, stepping inside. "This guy's real trusting."

"Maybe he never came back."

We went room by room, flipping lights on, looking around. The stuffed animals were everywhere. He had an entire bedroom filled with pigeons.

"Who would want a stuffed pigeon?" Lula asked. "I mean, what sort of a market do you suppose there is for a dead pigeon?"

We went back downstairs, made our way out to the porch showroom, and Lula stopped in front of a beaver.

"Look at this bad boy," Lula said. "Now, this is what I'm talking about. This here's the biggest fuckin' rodent ever lived. This is practically prehistoric."

I'd never seen a beaver up close and personal, and I was surprised at the size. "Do you suppose they're always this big?"

"Maybe Crazy Coglin overstuffed it."

Lula picked up a remote that had been placed beside the beaver. The remote had two buttons. One of the buttons was labeled eyes and the other bang!

Lula pressed the EYES button and the beaver's eyes glowed. She pressed it again and the eyes shut off.

"Probably I don't want to press the bang! button," Lula said. "This here looks to me like a exploding beaver. And it's not like it's some second-rate squirrel. This mother's gonna make a mess. This is atomic. This is something you only give to the enemy."

I looked over at Lula and smiled.

"I know what you're thinking," Lula said. "You're thinking of Joyce and how she deserves this beaver. You're thinking we have a obligation to give this beaver to Joyce."

"She likes animals."

"Yeah, especially big trained dogs and ponies."

"Maybe the second button doesn't explode it. Maybe the beaver sings a song or something."

"The button says bang!"

"It could be mislabeled."

"I see where you're going," Lula said. "You're thinking we have to say a lot of Hail Marys if we send this to Joyce and explode it on her. But it wouldn't be our fault if it exploded accidental. Or if there was a misunderstanding on our part."

"I wouldn't want to maim her."

"Of course not."

"Just because she shot at me, zapped me with a stun gun, and ratted me out to the police isn't any reason to do her bodily harm."

"Whatever."

"Still, it would be fun to send her a singing beaver."

Lula looked at her watch. "How long we gonna stand here doing this rationalizing shit? I got stuff to do."

I scrounged around in my purse and came up with eight dollars and forty cents. I left it on the table and pocketed the remote.

"What's that?" Lula wanted to know.

"It's for the beaver. I'm in enough trouble. I don't want to be accused of stealing a… singing beaver."

"And you think it's worth eight dollars and forty cents?"

"It's all I've got." I wrapped my arms around the beaver and hefted it off the table. "This weighs a ton!"

Lula got her hands under his butt and helped me to the door. We loaded the beaver into the Cayenne cargo area and drove it across town to Joyce's house.

Joyce lives in a big white colonial with fancy columns and a large yard. The house is the result of her last divorce. Joyce got the house, and her husband got a new lease on life. There was a red Jeep in the driveway, and lights were shining in the downstairs windows.

Lula and I dragged the beaver out of the back of the Cayenne and lugged it to Joyce’s front porch. We set the beaver down, I rang the bell, and Lula and I ran for cover. We hunkered down behind the red Jeep and gulped air.

The front door opened, and Joyce said, "What on earth?"

I pushed the button to make the eyes glow, and I peeked around the car.

Joyce was bent over looking at the beaver.

A man came up behind her. Not Dickie. A younger, chunkier guy in jeans and a thermal T-shirt. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's a beaver."

"Well, bring it inside," he said. "I like beaver."

Joyce pushed and pulled the beaver inside and closed the door. Lula and I scurried to a window on the side of the house where curtains hadn't been drawn and looked in at Joyce and the Jeep guy. The two of them were examining the beaver, patting it on the head, smiling at it.

"Think they've had a few drinkie-poos," Lula said. "Anyone in their right mind wouldn't bring the beaver from hell into their house."

Alter a minute or two, Joyce and the Jeep guy got tired of the beaver and walked away. I waited until they were a safe distance, and then I pushed the bang! button. There was a moment's lag, and then BLAM! Beaver fur and beaver stuffing as far as the eye could see.

The fur and glop hung from couches, chairs, tables, and table lamps. It was in Joyce s hair and was stuck to the back of her shirt. Joyce froze for a beat, turned, and looked around with her eyes bugged out.

"Fuck!" Joyce shrieked. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Holy crap," Lula said.

We sprang from the window and ran through the neighbor's yard to where we'd parked the car. We jumped in, and I laid rubber out of there.

"Guess it wasn't a singing beaver after all," I said.

"Yeah, darn," Lula said. "I was looking forward to hearing some singing."

I was smiling so wide my cheeks ached. "It was worth my last eight dollars."

"That was awesome," Lula said. "That Coglin is a freakin' genius."

Lula had her Firebird parked in the small lot behind the office. I dropped her off at her car and motored home to my apartment.

Morelli was watching television when I came in.

"You look happy," he said. "You must have had a productive day."

"It started off slow, but it ended okay."

"There's a casserole in the refrigerator. It's from my mom. It has vegetables in it and everything. And I could use another beer. The game's coming on."

Hours later, we were still in front of the television when Morelli s cell phone rang.

"I'm not answering it," Morelli said. "The guy who invented the cell phone should rot in hell."

The ringing stopped and a minute later, it started again.

Morelli shut the phone off.

We had three minutes of silence, and my phone rang in the kitchen.

"Persistent bastard," Morelli said.

The ringing didn't stop, and finally Morelli went to the kitchen and answered the phone. He was smiling when he came back.

"Good news?" I asked.

"Yes, but I'm going to have to go to work."

"The Berringer case?"

"No. Something else."

He went to the bedroom, rousted Bob off the bed, and snapped the leash on him. "I might have to go under for a while, but I'll call," Morelli said. "And don't worry about Dickie. I'm sure it'll work out okay." He grabbed his jacket and kissed me. "Later."

I closed and locked the door after him and stood for a moment taking the pulse of the apartment. It felt empty without Morelli. On the other hand, I could watch something sappy on television, wear my ratty, comfy flannel jammies, and hog the bed.