Notorious Nineteen

SEVENTEEN

I COAXED MYSELF out of bed, shuffled into the bathroom, and stood under the shower, trying to get energized. It hadn’t been a totally restful night. I’d had nightmares about fire and difficulty getting back to sleep. I ended the shower when I ran out of hot water.

I got dressed, went to the window, and looked down at the lot. Ranger’s Mercedes SUV was gone. Uncle Sandor’s Buick was back. I slogged into the kitchen. No more cereal. Ate it all last night. No point making coffee since there wasn’t any cereal or milk. I filled Rex’s bowl with hamster kibble, gave him fresh water, and hung my messenger bag on my shoulder. I opened my door and found another note. Be prepared to die. Crap. I returned to the kitchen and got Ranger’s gun.

Twenty minutes later I reached the bonds office. My first stop was the coffeemaker. The box of donuts on Connie’s desk was the second stop.

“You look like you need to visit the makeup counter at Macy’s and get some industrial strength concealer,” Lula said to me. “I’m hoping there’s a good story that goes with the bags under your eyes.”

“Someone torched Ranger’s Mercedes last night when it was parked in my lot.”

“It should be illegal to do that to a Mercedes,” Lula said.

“It is illegal,” I said.

“Well, yeah, but you know what I mean. Did Mr. Tall Dark and Sexy come by to watch his car burn and console you?”

“No. I haven’t seen him. He sent a couple guys to take care of it.”

I finished off a Boston Kreme and went to the box for another donut.

“Any new skips come in?” I asked Connie.

“Arthur Beasley missed his court date. He’s charged with indecent exposure. It’s a small bond but he should be easy to find. He works at the nudie beach in Atlantic City.”

This got Lula’s attention. “There’s a nudie beach in Atlantic City? I never heard of it.”

“I have an address,” Connie said. “I think it’s new. It’s attached to a casino.”

“Is the casino nude too?” Lula asked.

“I don’t know,” Connie said. “And I don’t want to know. Have you seen the people who go to Atlantic City? Would you really like to see them naked?”

“Anybody else?” I asked.

“Lauren Lazar. She got high on one of those new designer drugs and tried to sell her little sister to the night manager of the convenience store on Hyland. Apparently she had the munchies and wanted a bunch of Little Debbie snack cakes.”

“I get that,” Lula said. “Sometimes I think about doing some pretty bad shit for those Little Debbies.”

I was working my way through a jelly donut when my cellphone buzzed.

“You gotta help me,” Briggs said. “You gotta get over here. I can’t believe this friggin’ happened. I mean, what are the chances? I finally get a halfway decent job and it turns to doodie right in front of my eyes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I friggin’ lost another one!”

“Another patient is missing?”

“You got it. Disappeared in the middle of the night just like Cubbin. Nobody knows nothing about it.”

“Did you look at the video?”

“Yeah. Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zero. And I’ve personally gone over every inch of that floor. I’ve looked in every closet, under every bed, in all the bathrooms.”

“He didn’t go home?”

“No. The police looked. His wife says she hasn’t seen him. Not that she cares. They were in the middle of a divorce.”

“And you want me to come to the hospital why?”

“To keep me from blowin’ my brains out.”

“It’s not the end of the world, Randy.”

“Easy for you to say. Just get over here. I could use some help. I had cops crawling all over the hospital. And now I’ve got a pack of reporters camped out in the lobby.”

Seemed like a lot of fuss for someone who was only missing for a few hours. “Who did you lose?”

“Elwood Pitch.”

Oh boy. Elwood Pitch was a state legislator who’s been arrested for human trafficking. He was caught driving a U-Haul crammed with girls ages nine to fourteen. The girls had been smuggled in from Mexico via Port Newark and were told they’d be working as prostitutes. Pitch claimed he thought the truck was full of bananas. What he expected to do with the bananas was never made clear. Like Cubbin, Pitch was awaiting trial.

“Did Pitch get his appendix removed?” I asked Briggs.

“He didn’t get anything removed. He was admitted with stomach pains and kept overnight for observation.”

This was too weird. Two guys out on bail disappear in exactly the same way. Hard to pass it off as a bizarre coincidence.

“I’m on my way,” I told him.

“Where we going?” Lula wanted to know.

“Central Hospital. Elwood Pitch checked in with stomach pains last night. They kept him for observation and he mysteriously disappeared.”

“Get the heck out,” Lula said. “What is this, Lose a Slime-bag Month at that hospital?”

“Briggs wants me to hold his hand,” I said to Lula. “He’s having a meltdown.”

“That don’t sound like a lot of fun to me,” Lula said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m gonna stay here with the box of donuts. I might even do some filing.”

“Did Vinnie bond out Pitch?” I asked Connie.

“Yes. And it was a really high bond.”

I parked in the hospital lot a half hour later, and I remembered that Tiki was in the backseat. Chances were slim that Logan would find me here, but I thought better safe than sorry, so I locked Tiki in the trunk. I reached the hospital entrance and felt terrible. I’d been locked in a trunk once and it wasn’t good. And now I’d put Tiki in the trunk.

He’s a piece of wood, I told myself. He doesn’t have feelings. Except he felt real. Damn. I returned to the car and got Tiki and brought him into the hospital with me.

“It’s about time,” Briggs said when he saw me. “What have you got under your arm?”

“Tiki. I didn’t want to leave him in the car.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I bet.”

We were in Briggs’s office when Morelli strolled in. He was wearing a blue collared shirt, jeans, and running shoes. Other plainclothes cops wore dress slacks and dress shoes and sometimes a suit. When Morelli dressed like that he looked like a casino pit boss, so he had special permission to go casual. He pulled a chair out and slouched into it.

“What have you got?” Morelli said to Briggs.

“Nothing,” Briggs said.

“Are you working missing persons?” I said to Morelli.

“Pitch was my collar. I worked with ICE to bring him down and I don’t like that he’s disappeared. I pulled four nine-year-old girls out of that truck. They were terrified and dehydrated and one of them was unconscious. They were smuggled into the country in a cargo container and then locked in that truck for ten hours. This is personal for me.”

“Me too,” Briggs said. “I look like an idiot. Security at this hospital sucks.”

“Count me in,” I said. “Vinnie bonded Pitch.”

“Walk me through it,” Morelli said. “What do I need to know?”

“There were two nurses on duty,” Briggs said. “Norma Kruger and Julie Marconni.”

“The same nurses that were on duty when Cubbin disappeared,” I said.

Briggs nodded. “Yeah. And the times were the same too. Kruger checked on Pitch at two in the morning and he was sleeping. And then when she went in just before going off shift at seven he was gone.”

“I was on the floor,” Morelli said. “There are security cameras covering all exits.”

“I watched the video,” Briggs said. “I didn’t see Pitch leaving.”

Morelli looked like he’d had heartburn. If he had had Briggs downtown, locked in a little room, he’d have run over him like a four-ton dump truck. Sitting in Briggs’s office on the first floor of Central Hospital required more diplomacy, and diplomacy wasn’t Morelli’s strongest attribute. I suspected Morelli wanted to grab Briggs and shake him like a rag doll until Briggs remembered seeing Pitch leave the building.

“I’d like to see the videos,” I said to Briggs. “Maybe if we all look at them together something will pop out at one of us.”

“Yeah, sure,” Briggs said. “Good idea. I can pull them up on my computer.”

Morelli shot me a look of gratitude that promised a back rub next time we were alone together, and we scooted our chairs around so we could see the screen.

Briggs brought four camera views up at once. Two cameras on the fourth floor and two cameras that covered the exits. He ran the videos at high speed. When they were done we all sat there in silence for a full minute.

“Well?” Briggs asked. “Did you see anything?”

Morelli and I shook our heads. No one had left the floor. It was a snooze fest. Dim light. Nothing happening. Nurses occasionally walking around in uniforms that looked like they were designed by Disney. Very casual and cheerful. What ever happened to the starched white look with the hats? The only time you saw those uniforms anymore was in porno films.

Morelli turned to me. “Is there anything else I should be looking at here?”

“You should talk to the two night nurses. I never interviewed Julie Marconni, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to grill Norma Kruger. I’m pretty sure Kruger is involved somehow.”

“Who works security here on the night shift?” Morelli asked Briggs.

“Mickey Zigler. He’s worked the night shift here forever. He comes on at six and goes off at six. We both do twelve-hour shifts.”

“We’ll be back at six to talk to him,” Morelli said.

I glanced over at Morelli. “We?”

“We’re in this together, Cupcake.”

I thought Morelli was sexy as heck. And I was almost positive I loved him. Whether I could live with him was still up in the air. Whether I could work with him was highly unlikely. We’d tried to work together before and it hadn’t turned out wonderful.

Morelli got Julie Marconni’s and Norma Kruger’s addresses from Briggs and stood to leave.

“Do you want to ride shotgun?” he asked me.

“No. You’ll do better interviewing them without me. I’ll catch up with you later this afternoon.”

I carted Tiki back to the Buick and returned to the office.

“How’d it go?” Lula asked. “Did you have to get Briggs injected with happy juice?”

“No. Briggs was fine. We all watched the security videos together.”

“Who’s all?”

“Morelli was there. Pitch was his collar, and he’s not comfortable that Pitch might have walked away.”

“Oh boy,” Lula said. “You’re not gonna have to work with Morelli, are you? Last time you tried that he had to stop carrying his gun so he wouldn’t be tempted to shoot you. And remember the time he chained you to a pipe in his cellar?”

On the positive side, the possibility that I’d be set on fire was a lot slimmer when I was with Morelli.

“I don’t have much choice,” I said. “We’re after the same guy. And Morelli might be helpful. It’s not like I’m making a lot of progress on my own.”

“Long as I don’t get caught in the crossfire,” Lula said. “Where is he now? He in the Buick with Tiki?”

“He’s doing his own thing for a while.”

“How did the fitting go?” Connie asked me. “What does the dress look like?”

I squinched my eyes closed and smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand. “I forgot all about it!”

“That’s one of them subliminal things,” Lula said. “You keep forgetting because you don’t want to do it.”

This was true. “I’ll go now,” I said. “And then I’m going to Atlantic City to get the guy at the nudie beach.”

“I don’t want to miss either of those things,” Lula said. “I’ll go with you.”

The bridal shop was on Hamilton, not far from the Tasty Pastry bakery. I’d been there before on a couple other excruciating occasions when I was a bridesmaid. It was presided over and owned by Mary DeLorenzo. She had coal black hair pulled back in a bun. She was in her fifties. And she ate way too much pasta. She employed two cousins who served as seamstresses. They were imported from Italy and spoke no English beyond S’cusa me when they stuck you with a pin or pushed your breast out of the way to adjust the bodice.

The walls of the shop were lined with gowns in zippered plastic bags smushed together on racks. One side was bridal and the other bridesmaid. Mother of the bride was in a separate room.

“This might not be so bad,” Lula said, following me through the front door. “You got to look on the bright side. It could be a pretty dress. If I was getting married I’d have my bridesmaids in animal print. Zebra or leopard.”

Mary DeLorenzo rushed over to me, all smiles, hoping for a new bride. I explained who I was and the smile faded a little.

“Of course,” she said. “We’ve been expecting you. Let me get the dress. I’ll bring it to the dressing room at the back of the shop.”

Lula looked around at the cocooned dresses. “You want me to come back there with you? You might need a second opinion on this.”

“Whatever.”

“And remember to have a good attitude. You don’t want to prejudge stuff. You go in expecting it to be bad and that’s all you’ll see.”

“You’re right. I need an attitude adjustment. I need to look forward to this. It could be fun. I’ll be with Ranger. It’ll be a party.”

“Yeah. And I bet the dress is real classy. This is a pretty classy place in an Italian kind of way.”

Mary bustled back with a zippered bag and ushered me into the dressing room. “This is so beautiful,” she said. “We had to special order the fabric. And the bride was very specific about the color. She wanted something romantic.”

“Romantic is good,” I said. “Right?”

“Of course. It’s a wedding.” She pulled the dress out of the bag and fluffed it up. “This is going to be stunning on you.”

It was a floor-length Pepto-Bismol pink taffeta dress with big puffy cap sleeves, a huge bow at the waist in the back, and a bell skirt.

I felt my eyes get wide and my mouth drop open.

Have a good attitude, I told myself. It’ll look better once it gets off the hanger.

Lula was on the other side of the dressing room door. “How is it?” she asked. “Do you love it? Is it pretty?”

“I don’t have it on yet,” I said, swallowing down panic.

“Well, hurry up. I can’t wait to see it. This is exciting.”

Mary dropped the dress over my head and zipped it up. I had my eyes closed. I was afraid to look.

“Oh dear,” she gasped. “It’s just beautiful. It fits you perfect. It’s as if it was made for you.”

“Really?” I asked with my eyes still closed tight.

“It’s your color.”

“I don’t wear a lot of pink,” I said.

“It does wonders for your skin tone. Don’t you want to open your eyes and look at it?”

“No.”

“I want to look at it,” Lula said. “Open the door so I can see. I bet it’s ravishing.”

Mary opened the dressing room door for Lula. “Ta-da!”

“Holy cow,” Lula said. “That’s the ugliest dress I ever saw.”

“It’s from the Little House on the Prairie collection,” Mary said. “It’s very au couture this year. And it comes with a matching bow for her hair.”

I opened one eye and looked in the mirror. I bit into my lower lip and whimpered. The dress was two sizes too big, the bow made me look like I was starting kindergarten, and the color washed me out to vampire skin tone. It weighed about twenty pounds and it made swishing sounds if I moved.

“It’s lovely,” I said to Mary. “Is it fire retardant?”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “No one ever asked that question.”

“That dress is just wrong,” Lula said. “You look like a pregnant flamingo.”

I blew out a sigh. “What about the positive attitude?”

“That was before I saw the dress. Now that I’m seeing the dress I’m thinking you want to come down with some bad contagious disease. Something gives you a rash and makes your brain melt.”

I smoothed the skirt out. “It isn’t that bad.”

“Yes, it is,” Lula said. “It’s an atrocity.”

“I’ll send Philomena out to make a few adjustments,” Mary said.

“Go babysit Tiki,” I said to Lula. “I’ll be done soon.”

Thirty minutes later we were on the road to Atlantic City.

“Don’t say another word about the dress,” I told Lula. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“I understand completely. That dress was a disaster.”

“Not another word!”

“My lips are sealed. Zipped them up and threw away the key.”

“This should be an easy apprehension,” I said to Lula. “He’s not a career criminal. Probably not armed.”

“Especially if he’s naked.”