Top Secret Twenty-One (11 page)

Briggs put his shoe on, and we walked to the edge of the lot, where the Buick was parked. My plan was to go to my parents’ house and drop Rex off. If my father wasn’t home, Grandma and my mother might let Briggs into the house long enough for us to regroup.

“Holy Hannah,” Grandma said when she saw Briggs. “What happened to him? Did your father catch up to him?”

“Someone shot a rocket-propelled firebomb into my apartment,” I said.

“Again?” Grandma asked.

“Yeah, I was hoping I could leave Rex here.” I peeked into the house. “Is my father home?”

“He’s in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. And he’s still complaining about the cake. You might not want to go in there with the little guy.”

I handed Rex over and went back to the car with Briggs.

“You’re going to have to find a place to live,” I told him. “I’m going to move home with my parents until my apartment gets fixed, and you can’t stay there.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Go anywhere. Mooch off friends or relatives. Move into a motel.”

“Poletti will find me.”

I put the car in gear and drove away from the curb. “He found you in my apartment, and now it’s got a big hole in it!”

“What about using me as bait?”

“Been there and done that.”

“Boy, this is the thanks I get for saving your rat.”

“
Hamster
. And he wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m thinking I should see some gratitude. I could have just run out and left him there, but I took the time to save his life.”

I turned onto Hamilton Avenue. “You have a lot of nerve pulling the gratitude card on me after all I’ve done for you.”

“You got me drunk, kidnapped, and almost blown up!”

“And you want more?”

Briggs slumped in his seat. “I don’t know what I want. I’m depressed.”

My phone rang, and I saw from the display that it was Lula.

“I need you to come pick me up,” she said. “I’m done here.”

“What about Stanley?”

“He’s with me. They discharged him. He just had a panic attack, but he’s okay now. You can pick us up at the emergency entrance.”

It took me three minutes to get to the hospital. Lula was standing at the curb, and Stanley was alongside her, wearing a hospital gown and handcuffs.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Lula said to me, helping to get Stanley into the backseat. “I put him in two gowns so his rear door don’t flap open. And I got extra big gowns, too.”

“I’m hungry,” Stanley said. “I didn’t get any lunch.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry too,” Briggs said. “I had an upsetting morning.”

Lula looked over at Briggs. “What the heck happened to
him
?”

I steered the Buick into traffic and pointed us in the direction of Cluck-in-a-Bucket. “He was in my apartment when it got torched. Someone rocketed a firebomb into it.”

“Say what?”

“He’s out to get me,” Briggs said. “He’s not going to stop until he gets me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have done his wife,” I said.

“Everyone’s done his wife,” Briggs said. “I was last in line. There was no one left to do her. I thought I was doing everyone a favor.”

“Hold on here,” Lula said. “Are we talking a rocket like
ZOOM BANG!
and everything’s blown all to hell?”

“It was more like
BANG WHOOSH
,” Briggs said. “It punched a hole in the brick instead of sailing through the window, and Steph’s living room got cremated. And at great personal risk to myself I rescued the
hamster
.”

“No shit?” Lula said. “Is that true?”

I swung into the parking lot to Cluck-in-a-Bucket. “Looks like it. I haven’t been allowed into my apartment yet. What do you all want here?”

“I want a double Clucky Burger with large fries, onion rings, and a Diet Coke,” Stanley said. “And I want an apple pie for dessert.”

“I’ll second that,” Lula said.

“Yeah, me too,” Briggs said.

“Who’s going in for this?” I asked.

“Not me,” Briggs said. “I can’t see over the counter.”

“I’d go,” Stanley said, “but I don’t have any money, and I can’t carry all the drinks with these handcuffs.”

“One of us gotta keep an eye on the prisoner,” Lula said to me. “Pick your poison.”

“Hey!” Briggs said. “Look at that guy who just got out of the black SUV and is going into Cluck-in-a-Bucket. That’s Jimmy Poletti. That’s the son of a bitch who blew up my apartment.” Briggs was out of his seat belt and out of the car. “You son of a bitch!” he yelled at Poletti.

Poletti turned, saw Briggs and company, and took off at a run.

Lula and I bolted out of the car and ran after Poletti, chasing him around the building and across the street. I was in sneakers and jeans, and Lula was in five-inch stiletto heels and a skirt that came just two inches below her ass. I was gaining on Poletti. Lula was pounding the pavement behind me. And Briggs was running third, yelling obscenities and threats at Poletti.

The black SUV careened around the corner and slid to a stop, Poletti jumped in, and the car sped away.

“Shit!” Briggs said. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Lula tugged her skirt down. “That Poletti has no luck at all. He’s shot off two rockets so far, and neither of them’s put a dent in Mr. Short, Pale, and Creepy here. And not only that but he got no guts. He obviously don’t want to kill Briggs in front of witnesses. What’s with that?”

We walked back to Cluck-in-a-Bucket, got our order, and carried it to the Buick. No Stanley.

“Somebody stole Stanley,” Lula said.

“Yeah,” Briggs said. “There’s high demand for a fat guy wearing handcuffs and a hospital gown.”

I drove the route from Cluck-in-a-Bucket to Stanley’s parents’ house, but we didn’t see Stanley.

“Call me crazy,” I said, “but I don’t feel like putting any more effort into capturing Stanley today.”

“It’s no problem anyway,” Lula said. “I got a date with him for Sunday night. I’ll let you know when we get out of the movies, and you can come get him.”

I WAS AT
the office, finishing my lunch, when Morelli texted to tell me I could return to my apartment. I left Briggs with Lula and Connie, trudged out to the Buick, and slowly drove down Hamilton. I drove slowly because I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to see the destruction. It was depressing. I’d done this drill too many times. I was tired of it. At least this time there would be no blood spatters, I told myself. That was good, right? And honestly, why was I so upset? It’s not like I was in love with the couch that got cooked. And it’s not like the rocket was personally directed at me. I was a victim, but I wasn’t the
targeted
victim. That would be Briggs.

Morelli was leaning against his car, waiting for me, when I pulled into the lot.

“You’re talking to yourself,” he said when I got out. “I don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.”

“I was trying to talk myself out of being morbidly depressed.”

“Did you succeed?”

My eyes filled with tears.

Morelli wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “A coat of paint and it’ll be like new. And you never liked that couch anyway.”

“Yes, but the apartment was just painted after that guy blew himself up in my foyer. I liked the new color.”

Morelli took my hand and tugged me toward the building. “We’ll paint it the same color.”

We took the stairs to the second floor and ran into Dillan Ruddick, the building super. He had a wet vac going, sucking up water from the soggy hall carpet.

“Thanks for saving my apartment,” I said to him.

“No problemo,” Dillan said. “I’ve got it down to a science. The alarm goes off and I run straight to your apartment and grab the fire extinguishers.”

“Nice to know,” I said to Dillan. “I’m a disaster!” I whispered to Morelli.

“Yeah, you keep life interesting,” Morelli said, unlocking my apartment. “Be careful where you walk. The carpets are soaked. We’ll get a restoration team in here tomorrow. As you can see, most of the damage is confined to the living room.”

“There’s a hole in my wall! I can see daylight through it.”

“Dillan’s going to board it up as soon as he gets rid of some of the water. I thought you’d want to get some clothes. Probably everything’s going to have to be cleaned and aired to get rid of the smoke smell.”

I filled my laundry basket and two garbage bags with clothes. I added food for Rex and some basic toiletries, grabbed the things that belonged to Briggs, and we left the apartment.

Morelli stuffed everything into the Buick. “Where are you going now? Are you moving in with your parents?”

“Probably, but I don’t know what to do with Briggs. They won’t take Briggs.”

“He’s an adult,” Morelli said. “He can take care of himself.”

“Everything in his apartment was destroyed. And Poletti is trying to kill him.”

“It’s not like he’s blameless. He helped Poletti cheat on his taxes, and he boinked his wife.”

“You know about the wife?”

“Everybody knows about the wife.”

“And he saved Rex.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Morelli said.

“I can’t just walk away from him.”

Morelli looked like he was trying not to grimace. “You’re such a cupcake.”

My eyes filled with tears again.

“Oh crap,” Morelli said, cuddling me into him. “You can stay with me. And you can bring Briggs with you.”

I brought my clothes to my parents’ house and filled the washer with the first load.

“I’ll take your black suit and hang it outside to air,” Grandma said. “You’ll need it for the funeral tomorrow.”

Oh joy, the funeral. The only thing I hate more than a viewing is a funeral. I grabbed some chocolate chip cookies from my mom’s cookie jar, told Grandma I’d be back, and chugged off to the office in the Buick.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a new car by now,” Lula said when I walked in.

“No time to look, and no money to buy,” I said. “I need to capture Poletti.” I handed Briggs the duffel bag filled with his clothes. “It was lucky you were keeping your clothes in this heavy-duty bag. They might not smell too smoky, and they shouldn’t have any water or foam damage.”

Briggs took his clothes bag to the bathroom to change, and Connie sprayed the office with air freshener.

“You have to get him out of here,” she said. “Even with clean clothes he’s still going to smell like charbroiled goat.”

“Have you heard any news about the Rangeman building?” I asked Connie. “Is it still under quarantine?”

“So far as I know,” Connie said. “My cousin Loretta called about a half hour ago. She’s a nurse at St. Francis, and she said Emilio Gardi isn’t doing well. He’s in kidney failure.”

A sick feeling swirled through my stomach.

“What about Ranger’s man McCready?”

“I haven’t heard anything about him.”

I called Ranger. “How’s McCready doing?”

“He’s managing. They’re trying something new with him.”

“And you?”

“I’m not running at full capacity, so be careful. I can’t always see you.”

He disconnected, and I took a moment to calm myself. There’ve been times when I’d welcomed the news that Ranger wasn’t following my every move, but this wasn’t one of them.

“You’re whiter than usual,” Lula said to me. “Are you okay?”

I sat in the chair by Connie’s desk and hung my head between my legs. “I’m a little freaked out.”

“You know what helps me when I get freaked out?” Lula said. “Donuts. You probably need donuts. And I wouldn’t mind having some donuts either.”

Briggs came out of the bathroom. “I’d like a donut.”

He’d washed the smudges off his face, combed his hair, and put on clean clothes. He still smelled like smoke, but it wasn’t at the charred goat level anymore.

“I don’t need a donut,” I said. “I need some sanity to my life. Some normality.”

“Yeah, but a donut’s a good start,” Lula said. “I always think better when I got a donut in my hand.”

“Where do you suppose Ranger is hiding out?” I asked Connie.

“I don’t know,” Connie said, “but I’m guessing he’s not too far away from Rangeman. He’s a cautious guy. He probably has a small satellite office with his account information duplicated offsite somewhere safe. I can’t see him trusting the cloud.”