Smokin Seventeen

TWENTY-EIGHT

RANGER TURNED ONTO CLINTON. “I’d still like you to look at the security system on the new account.”

“Sure. I can do it now if it works for you.”

“I have a client meeting in a half hour, but you can go over the plans on your own. They can’t leave the building, so you’ll have to use my office or the apartment.”

There wasn’t much traffic in the middle of the day, and we sailed through all of the lights. Ranger parked in the underground garage, got out, and gestured to the fleet cars. “Pick one.”

“That’s nice of you, but it’s not necessary to loan me a car.”

“I loan you cars all the time.”

“And I almost always destroy them or lose them. I have terrible luck with cars.”

“Working at Rangeman is a high-stress job, and you’re one of our few sources of comic relief. I give you a car and my men start a pool on how long it will take you to trash it. You’re a line item in my budget under entertainment.”

“Jeez.”

“Besides, you need to get home somehow, and I can’t take you. I have an afternoon filled with meetings, and I have a dinner meeting with my lawyer.”

“I’ll take the Jeep Cherokee.”

“I’ll tell Hank. The keys are in the car.”

We rode the elevator in silence. He let us into his apartment, and I followed him to his study. The plans were on his desk.

“Take as long as you want,” he said. “Let the control desk know when you leave.” He pulled me tight against him. “Or you can stay and spend the night.”

“When is your next meeting?” I asked him.

He glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes.”

I unzipped his cargo pants. “Plenty of time.”

Nine minutes later Ranger rolled off me. I saw him to the door, I grabbed a chicken salad sandwich from his fridge, and I settled in at the dining room table to review his security blueprint. Lula called me just as I finished the sandwich.

“You gotta get back to the bus,” she said. “There’s a big new development here, and business is booming. Vinnie’s downtown bonding out three idiots. And Connie got a lead on Ziggy.”

I cleaned up and left a note for Ranger, detailing the few suggestions I had for the plan, apologizing for not being able to finish. I called the control desk and told them I was heading out.

• • •

Traffic was unusually slow on Hamilton. I got closer to the bonds office lot and realized cars were creeping past it and gawking. I cringed at the thought of another dead body. And then I saw it.

They were gawking at the bus. It had been totally shrink-wrapped. The background was poison green. The lettering was black. And Lula and I were plastered on the side. It was the exact same message and photo they’d used on the flyers … except I was now seven feet tall, and my breasts were as big as basketballs.

I parked and ran across the street to the bus. A guy in a truck honked his horn at me, and a guy in a Subaru told me he was bad and asked me if I’d spank him. I kept my head down and scrambled inside Mooner’s monstrosity.

Connie was at her computer. Lula was on the couch texting. Mooner was standing on his head in the back bedroom.

“What’s he doing?” I asked Connie.

“I’m not sure. I think he might be trying to get the drugs to leak out of his head through his hair.”

“Traffic is backed up for almost a mile down Hamilton because people are stopping to stare at the bus.”

“The television people were here just a little while ago,” Lula said. “We’re gonna be on the evening news. We’re famous. We’re like rock stars.”

“Was this the big new development?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Lula said. “It don’t get much more exciting than this.”

I pantomimed hanging myself.

“I hate to say it, but it’s working,” Connie said. “The scumbag losers are loving the flyers. We’re back in business.”

I looked around the bus. “What about the renovation?”

“Uncle Jimmy is starting tonight after business hours. He said it wasn’t a big deal to do the walls and the floor. The upholstered pieces will have to wait until Sunday.”

There was a loud crash, and we all looked to the bedroom.

“No problem,” Mooner said. “I just fell off my head.”

Connie went to the fridge and got a bottle of water. “For what it’s worth, my Aunt Theresa lives next to Maronelli’s garage, the one attached to the funeral home, and she said she’s been seeing Ziggy sneaking in and out. Aunt Theresa is ninety-three years old and can’t see her hand in front of her face, so there’s no guarantee it’s actually Ziggy, but I’m giving it to you anyway.”

“We’ll check it out,” Lula said. “Our motto is no stone unturned.”

“Does she see him during the day or at night?” I asked Connie.

“She didn’t say.”

My phone rang, and I knew from the ring tone it was from my parents’ house.

“I just came back from an afternoon viewing at Stiva’s funeral parlor,” Grandma said. “Marilyn Gluck took me home and we went past where the bonds office used to be and there’s a bus parked there with your picture on it. It’s a beaut. It looks like you got some of them breast implants, and we never noticed before.”

“I didn’t get breast implants. They were enlarged on a computer.”

“The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I got home. Everybody is calling to say they saw you on the bus. Norma Klap said her son, Eugene, would like to get fixed up with you.”

“Does my mother know?”

“Yeah. She’s ironing.”

I hung up, and Lula and I went out to look for Ziggy. Lula was wearing her cross and carrying a couple cloves of garlic in her purse. I was wearing dark glasses and a ball cap, hoping no one would recognize me.

Maronelli’s funeral home is at the back end of the Burg, one street off Liberty. It’s been in the Maronelli family for generations, and with the exception of installing indoor plumbing, it hasn’t changed much over the years. The viewing rooms are small and dark. English is spoken as a second language. The Italian flag is displayed in the small lobby. Manny Maronelli and his wife live in an apartment above the viewing rooms, but they’re in their late seventies and spend most of the year in their double-wide in Tampa. Their sons, Georgie and Salvatore, run the business and keep it in the black with a diversified menu of services that includes off track betting, prostitution, and an occasional hijacking. It’s a very efficient operation since men can attend a viewing and grieve and get a BJ all at the same time.

The four-car garage is detached and to the side of the funeral home. The hearse is usually parked in the driveway, so I assumed the garage was used to store miscellaneous items that fell off the back of a truck. It was close to four o’clock when Lula and I cruised by the funeral home, and there was no sign of activity. We’d arrived between the afternoon and evening viewing.

I parked across the street, and we sat for a couple minutes scoping things out. No street traffic. No dog walkers. No kids on bikes. Lula and I got out and went to the garage and tried the side door. Not locked. I opened the door, and Lula and I stepped inside and looked around. No windows. Very dark. I flipped the light switch, closed the door, and looked around.

Mortuary supplies were stacked on one wall. Everything from cocktail napkins to embalming fluid. A black Lincoln Town Car was parked in one of the middle bays. A flower car was parked next to it. Caskets lined the entire back of the garage. One of the caskets had the lid up.

“I like the casket with the lid up,” Lula said. “That’s a first-rate casket. When I go I want to have a casket like that. I bet it’s real comfy for your eternal slumber.”

She walked over to the casket, bent over it to look inside, and Ziggy popped up.

“Eeeeeee,” Lula shrieked. “I got a cross! I got garlic! Lord help me!”

“A man can’t even take a nap no more,” Ziggy said, climbing out of the casket.

Lula pulled her gun out of her purse. “I got a silver bullet. Stand back!”

“A silver bullet’s for werewolves,” Ziggy told her. “What time is it? Is it nighttime?”

I looked at my watch. “It’s four o’clock.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” Lula asked him.

“I’m trying to sleep. It’s nice and quiet here. And it’s dark.”

“Don’t the people who own the funeral parlor mind you sleeping in their casket?”

“Actually, it’s my casket. I bought it a couple years ago. It’s very restful. I used to have it at the house, but it was freaking my sister out when she came to visit, so Georgie said I could leave it here.”

“Even for a vampire you’re weird,” Lula said.

“It’s not easy being a vampire,” Ziggy said. “I have to avoid the sunlight, and I have to find blood to drink, and I can’t even wear normal dentures. I had to have these made special. And there are expectations. Like sleeping in a coffin. And I always have to be on guard for people who want to drive a stake through my heart.”

“That’s it,” Lula said. “A stake to the heart. I knew there was a way to kill you.”

Ziggy sucked in air.

“You already got the casket,” Lula said. “Nothing to worry about. It’s all good.”

“No way are you putting a stake in me,” Ziggy said. “I’m not ready. You come near me, and I’ll suck out all your body fluids.”

“Damn,” Lula said. “I got enough of the vampire cooties already. My teeth are growing, and I’m not happy about it. I had perfect teeth before you sucked on me.” She reached into her purse, grabbed her stun gun, and tagged Ziggy.

Ziggy crumpled into a heap on the floor.

“That was scary,” Lula said. “I like my body fluids. I wouldn’t look good without them.”

“I don’t know which of you is worse. He’s not a vampire, and he’s not going to drain any of your fluids. The best he could do is slip a diuretic into your coffee.”

“How am I worse?”

“You’re full of baloney. You haven’t got a silver bullet or a stake. You’re making threats you have no intention of carrying out.”

“Yeah, but we do that all the time.”

True. “We should cuff him and load him into the Jeep before he comes around.”

“What about the sunshine?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? And what about the screaming? I couldn’t take any more of that screaming. We need to cover him.”

I looked around. Nothing. No drop cloths, sheets, garbage bags.

“I know,” Lula said, grabbing his arms. “We’ll put him in his casket. Get his legs and help me heave ho.”

“Caskets are heavy. We’ll never be able to get it into the Jeep.”

“There’s a rolling casket carrying thing by the door. It’s what they use at funerals. It raises and lowers.”

“Okay, but if it doesn’t work you’re just going to have to deal with the screaming.”

“Deal,” Lula said, “but I’m not watching him shrivel up and turn into a cat turd. Soon as he starts to smoke I’m outta there.”

We dropped Ziggy into the casket, and I closed and locked the lid. I rolled the gurney over, we hefted the casket onto it, and we rolled the whole deal to the front of the garage.

“I’ll wait here,” Lula said. “You back the Jeep up to the door.”

I ran to the Jeep and collapsed the backseat so there was more room for the casket. I backed the SUV up to the door, Lula powered the door up, and we loaded the casket in.

“It don’t fit,” Lula said.

The rear end of the casket was hanging a couple feet over the bumper, but I didn’t care. I’d come this far. I was taking Ziggy in. I’d leave the cargo door open and drive slow.

I took Liberty to Broad and drove toward the center of the city. The car behind me was keeping his distance.

“Maybe you should have hung a red flag on Ziggy’s doom box,” Lula said.

“Maybe I should have blindfolded him, so he couldn’t tell it was day or night and chucked him into the backseat.”

I cruised through Hamilton and stopped for a light, focusing on the traffic ahead. I heard some scraping sounds and then a shriek. I turned and saw Ziggy jump out of the Jeep and run down a side street, waving his arms and screaming.

“What the hell?” Lula said. “I saw you lock the lid.”

“It must have had a release on the inside.”

I took a right and drove toward the screams. We had our windows down, listening, and the screams stopped.

“Uh oh,” Lula said. “Cat turd.”

“He probably went inside a building.”

“Sure,” Lula said. “That’s probably it. Do you want to get out and search for him?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” She swiveled and looked behind her. “What are we gonna do with his casket?”

“I guess I’ll return it to the funeral home.”

“You notice how people are staring at us? It’s like they never seen a casket hanging out of a Jeep before.”

I retraced my route down Broad to Liberty. I drove past the funeral home and backed into the driveway leading to the garage. The casket carrier was missing and the garage doors were closed.

“Now what?” Lula asked.

“Now we remove the casket from Ranger’s Jeep with as much dignity as we can manage, and then we get the heck out of here.”

“What if someone sees us and wants to know what we’re doing?”

“We’ll say Ziggy wanted to go for a ride, but decided to walk home.”

“That’s good,” Lula said. “That sounds like it’s true.”

“It’s sort of true.”

“Fuckin’ A.”

We hauled the casket out of the Jeep, set it down in front of a garage door, scurried back into the SUV, and took off.