Джанет Иванович - Fortune and Glory

I’d skinned my knee when I fell off the porch and I didn’t know how much more running I had in me. I thought I might be able to dodge around a couple of cars and make it to my building’s back door. If luck was with me Sanchez wouldn’t be a crack shot with a broken nose and swollen eyes.

I ran for the nearest car, ducked down behind it, and Sanchez got off a shot that zinged over my head. I ran to another car, ducked down, and in my peripheral vision I caught a flash of black. It was Gabriela in the Mercedes. She sped past me and drove straight for Sanchez. He uttered something in Spanish and pointed the gun at the Mercedes. Gabriela slammed into him before he could get a shot off, punting him at least twenty feet. She skidded to a stop, put the car into reverse, and took down gym monkey. He went down with a cell phone in one hand and a gun in the other. Gabriela put the Mercedes into drive and ran over him a second time.

I worried that I might be next, but she drove out of the lot and didn’t look back.

Sanchez wasn’t moving. Gym monkey was moaning a little, and there was what looked like leg bone sticking out of a tear in his trousers. I retrieved my messenger bag, ran into the building, and locked myself in my apartment. I walked to the window on shaky legs, looked down at the parking lot, and dialed 911. I told dispatch that a hit-and-run had occurred, but I hadn’t gotten a good look at the car.

I wasn’t sure what to do about identifying Gabriela. She probably saved my life. Why was the big question.

While I was on the line with 911, the blue pickup raced into the lot. A couple of young guys in jeans and T-shirts got out, scooped up Sanchez and gym monkey, and took off.

“Hold on a minute,” I said to dispatch. “The two hit-and-run victims just left. Sorry for the false alarm.”

I stood at the window for a couple of minutes, staring down at the empty pavement. Good thing my jeans were torn, and my knee was bleeding, because otherwise I might think I hallucinated the entire episode.

I went into the kitchen and searched for something comforting, settling on a handful of Froot Loops and a spoonful of peanut butter.

“My life is crap,” I said to Rex. “On the other hand, I didn’t just get run over by a car, twice. And I think my hair still looks good. Even Arnold Rugalowski thought it was pretty.”

No comments from Rex.

I put a huge Band-Aid on my knee, changed into new jeans, and went back to the kitchen for more peanut butter. I was contemplating washing the peanut butter down with a beer, and I heard something bump against my front door. I looked out my peephole and saw the back of Potts’s head.

“I had a feeling you were home,” he said when I opened the door. “It was one of those telepathic things. So, what are we doing today?”

“I need to find Shine.”

“That might be difficult.”

“And I wouldn’t mind talking to Gabriela.”

“Sometimes she parks by the dumpster. She kind of hides behind it in her little car. It’s like the stealth car.”

“Was she there when you got here?”

“No. I didn’t see her.”

I thought she was probably getting the dents taken out of the Mercedes and having it detailed to get rid of the blood.

I called Connie and asked if her mother had any thoughts on where Shine might be hiding.

“Mom isn’t here,” Connie said. “She’s with Benny’s sister. They’re making the funeral arrangements. I’ll ask if she’s heard anything when she comes home.”

“I had two of Shine’s men try to kidnap me just now. Young. Late twenties. One was bulked up with muscle and the other was thin. The thin one was named Sanchez and had a scar running the length of his face. They were trying to shoot me in my parking lot, and Gabriela came out of nowhere in her Mercedes and ran them over.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. For real. Sanchez ended up a crumpled heap on the pavement and the muscle guy had a compound fracture of his right leg. Probably a bunch of other body parts were also broken, but I couldn’t see those. I was calling 911 when a blue pickup drove into the lot, scooped them both up, and drove off. You have a lot of nurse contacts. Could you call around and see if they checked into any of the hospitals or clinics?”

“I’m on it,” Connie said.

“Wow,” Potts said when I hung up. “You didn’t tell me any of that. I must have just missed it. Were they really shooting at you in the parking lot?”

“Only one of them.”

“So, you’re going to try to track down these guys and get them to tell you where to find Shine?”

“Yes. While Connie is checking hospitals and clinics, I’m going to check on the house in Ewing.”

“Do you think we should be doing this all by ourselves?” Potts asked. “Maybe we should get Lula. She has a gun.”

I wasn’t interested in Lula’s gun. Half the time she couldn’t find it in her massive purse. And if she did find it, chances of her hitting what she aimed at were zip, and that was usually a good thing. However , I could use her car. Her Firebird stood out, but it didn’t shout Stephanie Plum like the Buick.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Lula was on the sidewalk in front of her apartment when I drove up. I parked the Buick, and Potts and I got out and transferred over to the Firebird.

“I was surprised when you called,” Lula said. “I thought you’d be taking a day off after the funeral and the car squashing. And it sounded to me like you were at another dead end.”

I told her about Shine’s two thugs and Gabriela.

“So, you’re ramping up the Shine search? Are you sure you don’t just want to move to Santa Fe? I hear it’s real nice there. You could get some kick-ass snakeskin cowboy boots.”

“The cowboy boots have some appeal,” I said, “but I’m a Jersey girl. And Jersey girls always get their man.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Lula said. “Let’s do it. Where are we going?”

I gave Lula the address, she pulled away from the curb, and Potts started his nervous humming. He had a right to be nervous. He’d been punctured, shot at, and kidnapped. And in spite of all that, he was sticking with me. That took guts. There was strength of character buried under all his weirdness. Unfortunately, that didn’t make him any less annoying.

“If you don’t stop humming, you’re gonna have to ride on the roof,” Lula said to Potts.

“Is this going to be dangerous?” Potts asked. “I need to prepare myself if it’s going to be dangerous.”

“How are you going to prepare?” Lula asked him.

“I might take a pill,” Potts said. “I have Xanax, Imodium, a multivitamin, Benadryl, lithium, and a couple orange pills that aren’t entirely legal.”

“I’d go with the multivitamin,” Lula said. “It’s a good start.”

“Yep,” I said. “Definitely the multivitamin.”

We got to the house and did a slow drive-by. There were no vehicles in the driveway. No activity on the street. Lula parked a couple of houses down and we sat for ten minutes.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to take a look around.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lula said.

“Me, too,” Potts said.

“No. It’ll attract too much attention with all of us creeping around,” I said. “I’ll signal you if I need backup.”

“What’s the signal going to be?” Potts asked. “You could do a special bird whistle. Can you whistle?”

“I was thinking about waving my hand,” I said.

“Okay,” Potts said, “but if this gets made into a movie or a video game, we’ll need something better.”

I walked down the street to the safe house, went to the door, and rang the bell. No answer. The shades were open on the front windows. No one walking around. No television playing. I went to the backyard and looked in the kitchen window. No mess. No lights on. No dishes in the sink. The back door was locked. I returned to the car.