Top Secret Twenty-One (10 page)

“Honestly,” I said. “Did you have to eat
all
the cake?”

“I got carried away. I was hungry.”

“I have things to do at the office. I’m going to drop you off so you can get cleaned up, and I’m going to pick you up later. I’m going to trust you to behave yourself.”

“I might take a nap. The cake made me sort of sick.”

“Do
not
take a nap in my bed.”

“I’ll take a shower first.”

“No! You can sleep on the couch. If I find any evidence, a single new wrinkle in my sheets, you’ll be sleeping in the parking lot.”

“Boy, you’d think I had cooties or something.”

“I’m
sure
you have cooties.”

I watched Briggs amble through the back door of my apartment building, gave a shudder, and headed for the office.

“Where’s half pint?” Lula asked when I walked in.

“I left him home. He was tired this morning.”

“I thought you didn’t trust him alone in your apartment.”

“I don’t, but I can’t keep babysitting him every minute.”

Connie waved a file at me. “I just got a new FTA. It’s not worth a lot of money, but it should be easy to clear. It’s Stanley Kulicky.”

“I know Stanley,” I said. “I went to school with him. What’s his problem?”

“He broke into the Sunshine Diner and stole a couple five-gallon jugs of rice pudding. I guess he was high and he got the munchies for rice pudding. The diner was closed so he helped himself.”

“That don’t sound like much of a crime,” Lula said.

“After he got the rice pudding strapped into his backseat, he went back in and tried to make himself a burger and fries and ended up setting the kitchen on fire. He panicked and took off, and on the way out of the parking lot he rammed a cop car. No one was hurt, but the cop car was trashed. Kulicky said he didn’t see it. Said it jumped out at him from nowhere.”

I looked at the file. “Unemployed and living with his parents.” I flipped the page to his photo. “Whoa! What happened to him?”

Lula looked over my shoulder. “He’s fat,” Lula said. “I don’t use that term a lot on account of it could be derogatory, but there’s no other way to describe him. He’s all swelled up.”

“He was a skinny guy in high school,” I said.

“Maybe he got a glandular thing going,” Lula said.

I thought it was more likely a rice pudding thing.

I dropped the file into my messenger bag and took a donut from the box on Connie’s desk. “I’m on it,” I said.

“Me too,” Lula said. “You might need help.”

“I called him earlier,” Connie said. “His parents are at work, but he’s at home. He sounded cooperative. He said he forgot about the court date.”

“They all say that,” Lula said. “Then they shoot at you.”

Stanley’s parents lived just outside the Burg on Cobb Street. The house was a small bungalow with a long narrow backyard and a detached single-car garage at the back of the property. Stanley was sitting on the garage roof. And he was naked.

“This might not be a good time,” Lula said, looking the length of the driveway.

“At least we know he’s not armed.”

We walked back to the garage and stood, hands on hips, staring up at Stanley.

“How’s it going?” I said to him.

“Pretty good. How’s with you?”

“Not bad. What are you doing on the roof?”

“I like it up here. It’s peaceful. I have a nice view of the yard. And I can look in Mrs. Zahn’s bedroom window. Sometimes she’s naked.”

“Is that why
you’re
naked?”

“No. I’m doing the laundry, and I didn’t have anything to wear.”

“Do you have any of that rice pudding left?” Lula asked.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t get to keep it. The cops took it.”

“Case closed,” Lula said. “I’m thinking we’re out of here.”

Fortunately, I had the keys to the car. And I wasn’t ready to leave just yet. I wasn’t leaving without Stanley.

“I need to take you downtown to get your court date rescheduled,” I said to Stanley.

“I don’t want to do that. They’ll put me in jail again.”

“Only for a little while, until you get rebonded.”

“No.”

“You told Connie you’d cooperate.”

“I changed my mind.”

“One of us is going to have to go up there and get him,” I said to Lula.

“I’m only the assistant bounty hunter,” Lula said. “You’re the real bounty hunter. You’re the one what does that shit.”

Stanley had to be close to three hundred pounds. He was a giant, immovable blob. I had no clue how I’d get him down and into my car. If I stun-gunned him he’d roll off the roof and crash to the ground. God knows what would happen when he hit. He could burst apart like a water balloon.

“Listen up, Humpty Dumpty,” Lula said. “It’s not like you’re an attractive sight up there. If you don’t come down I’m gonna take your picture and put it on YouTube. And then I’m gonna put the hose on you.”

“I’ve already been on YouTube,” he said. “I took a leak on YouTube.”

“That’s disgusting,” Lula said. “I’m glad I didn’t see that.”

“Does your mother know you’re out here with no clothes on?” I asked him. “I’m calling her.”

“That’s low,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you some weed if you don’t call her. I got really good stuff.”

“I’ll make you a better deal,” I said. “I won’t call her if you get some clothes on and come downtown with me.”

“I told you, my clothes are all getting washed.”

“How about we cut a hole in your bedspread and punch your head through it,” Lula said. “That should be about your size.”

“You should talk,” Stanley said. “You’re fat!”

Lula’s eyes bugged out.
“What?”

“You’re fatter than I am.”

“I am not nearly as fat as you. I’m a big and beautiful woman, and I am
not
fat. There’s a difference between being
big
and being
fat
.”

“Well, you look fat to me.”

“That does it,” Lula said. “I’m coming up there, and I’m kicking your lard ass off that roof.”

A ladder was propped against one side of the garage, and Lula climbed it like she was on fire. She got onto the roof, and Stanley shrieked and tried to scramble away, lost his footing, and fell off the garage.

WHUMMMP!

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. He was spread-eagle on his back with a massive hydrangea bush squashed flat as a pancake under him.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Do I look okay?”

“That’s sort of a trick question.”

“I might have broken my back.”

“Try wiggling your toes.”

Lula came down the ladder. “Can he wiggle his toes?”

“Yep.”

“Too bad he can’t see them. You know what else he can’t see?”

“Focus,” I said to Lula. “We need to get him into the car.”

“You gonna put him in your car naked? I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s gonna have them little blue hydrangea flowers all stuck up his ass. You’ll get them all over your seat covers.”

“I might need an ambulance,” Stanley said.

“Hard to believe he could have broken something with all that padding he’s got,” Lula said.

“His face is kind of white,” I said to Lula. “Maybe he hit his head.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling faint,” Stanley said. “I’m not feeling good. I’m having a hard time breathing.”

I called 911 and asked for an EMT truck.

Lula looked down at him. “You should have told them to send one with a forklift.”

“He isn’t
that
big,” I said. “And he probably looks better with clothes on.”

“I’m cute with clothes on,” Stanley said. “I’ve been told I look cuddly.”

“I could see that,” Lula said, “now that you mention it. You do have that cuddly stuffed bear look to you.”

“Maybe we could get together when I get out of the hospital,” Stanley said.

I checked my watch. It was midmorning. This wasn’t the way I’d planned out my day. It was one thing to walk a simple skip through the process and collect my body receipt. It was a whole other deal to protect my property while it was left on a gurney in the emergency room. It could take hours. And then I had the further complication of either signing him into the lockdown ward at the hospital or shuttling him over to the police station. I’d be going through menopause by the time this was finalized.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to stay with him at the hospital,” I said to Lula.

“No way. Hospitals creep me out.”

The EMT truck backed up the driveway. The two guys got out and grimaced when they saw Stanley.

“He’s naked,” the one guy said. “How’d he get out here naked? Is he nuts?”

“Sort of,” I said. “He was sitting up on the roof, and he fell onto the hydrangea bush.”

“Can he wiggle his toes?”

“Yeah.”

“Can he wiggle anything else?”

“Are you gonna load him up or what?” Lula said. “On account of we haven’t got all day to be standing here.”

Ten minutes later, Stanley was in the truck.

“Are you going with him?” the EMT asked me.

“No,” I said. “I’ll call his mother and let her know.”

“Not my mother,” Stanley yelled from the truck.

I looked at Lula.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go with him, but you owe me. I want one of them five-gallon jugs of rice pudding when I come out of that hospital.”

I gave her my paperwork and told her to call if there was a problem. The EMT truck pulled away with Stanley and Lula, I got into the Buick, and my phone rang.

“There’s sort of a problem with your apartment,” Briggs said. “I’ve got it mostly straightened out, but you might want to come see for yourself.”

“Is it the toilet?”

“No.”

“The television?”

“You have insurance, right?” Briggs asked.

MY BUILDING’S PARKING
lot was filled with people standing in clumps around the fire trucks, police cars, and EMT trucks. There were black smudges around my apartment windows and a hole punched into the brick in the general vicinity of my living room. I immediately spotted Briggs. He was standing in the middle of the lot, holding Rex’s aquarium, his clothes in tatters, his hair and face sooty. And one of his shoes was missing. He was talking to a uniformed cop, who was taking notes.

I parked the Buick, ran to Briggs, and grabbed the aquarium from him. I looked inside and saw that Rex was in his soup can. He peeked out at me and blinked his shiny black eyes.

“He’s good,” Briggs said. “I got him out before it got too smoky.”

My eyes filled with tears.

“Sorry about your apartment,” Briggs said.

“As long as Rex is okay,” I said. “The rest is just stuff.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Briggs said. “The rocket missed the window and hit the building, so the fire wasn’t as bad as mine. It was mostly put out by your superintendent. He said he’s getting good at putting out fires in your apartment.”

“This must have happened right after I left.”

“Pretty much. I figure Jimmy knew I was staying here, and he was watching to get me alone.”

I turned to the uniform. “Did anyone see the rocket get shot off?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “We’re canvassing the building and the neighborhood. Hopefully we’ll find a witness.”

I saw Morelli making his way around the fire hoses and responders. He was wearing his stoic cop face. He got to me and looked in at Rex.

“Is he okay?”

I nodded. “Yes. Briggs got him out in time. I was making a capture in the Burg when it happened.”

Morelli looked up at my apartment. “Rocket?”

“Looks like it,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to anyone other than Briggs and the cop.”

“I was in the living room when it happened,” Briggs said. “I was going from the kitchen to the bathroom. I was going to take a shower. And all of a sudden there was this big
bang
that shook the building, and I was knocked on my keister. And there was a fireball on one side of the living room, by the window. And the fire ran up the curtains and there was a lot of black smoke, and the smoke detectors went off, and I got to my
feet, ran to the kitchen and got the rat, and ran down the stairs with him and out of the building.”

“He’s a hamster,” I said.

Morelli looked around. “I assume your car is here somewhere?”

“It’s back by the dumpster,” I said. “I couldn’t find a place to park.”

He gave me the keys to his SUV. “I’m behind the EMT truck. Wait there while I poke around. I’ll get back to you.” He looked at Briggs. “Do you need medical help?”

Briggs shook his head, and some small chunks of plaster fell out of his hair. “I’m okay, but I wouldn’t mind you looking around for my shoe if you get into the apartment.”

Morelli left, and Ranger called.

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Briggs was in the apartment when it happened, and he carried Rex out.”

“I’ve got Hal on the scene if you need him. He said Morelli’s there so he’s hanging back.”

“How do you know all this without your control room?”

“We’re functioning offsite.”

An hour later the fire trucks and EMTs started pulling out of my lot. The fire marshal was on the scene. The gawkers were dribbling away, going back to their houses, and most of the people in my building were allowed to return to their apartments.

Morelli returned to the SUV and handed Briggs his shoe.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“I’ve seen worse,” Morelli said. “You were lucky it missed
the window and hit the wall. Your living room is destroyed, but the rest of the apartment is intact. Mostly what you’ve got is smoke damage and water damage. Your super went in immediately with commercial fire extinguishers and minimized the fire. He said he keeps them in the utility closet next to your apartment.”

“How soon can I get in?”

“If the investigators don’t find any structural damage, you should be able to get in this afternoon, but you’re not going to be living here for at least a week or two. Maybe longer.”

So my plan to use Briggs as bait had worked … but not in a good way.

“I’m staying here,” Morelli said. “This is part of the Poletti investigation. If you want to take off, I’ll call you when you can go in.”