Janet Evanovich - Explosive Eighteen

“Korda was stealing jewelry?”

“Big-time. He’d get the real thing into his store, sell it at a profit, and send the customer home with a knockoff. Plus, he’d shop around and lift and replace.”

“And what’s your role in this?”

“He wanted to go bigger. He saw a couple pieces in New York. One was at Harry Winston. There was another at Chopard. He said it was a four-man operation. There were two other Pink Panthers who were going to help out, and he was going to use me as a distraction. He said if I did a good job, the Panthers would let me into the network.”

“You wanted to be a Pink Panther?”

“I’d give my right nut to be a Pink Panther.”

“You have a nut?”

“No, but if I had one, I’d give it.”

“Do you know who killed Korda?”

“It was the Panthers. I used to come to the store to help Frank plan his capers, and…”

I inadvertently giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Joyce asked.

“You said capers.”

“Grow up. That’s what we call the jobs in the trade.”

I cracked open a beer and chugged half. No laughing, I told myself. If you laugh at Joyce, she won’t tell you the whole story, and you want to hear the whole story, no matter how ridiculous.

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry. You were helping Frank plan his capers.”

“Yeah, and we were fooling around a little. And he promised me this necklace he stole, but he couldn’t give it to me because it was too hot. And next thing I know, his wife is walking down the street wearing my necklace. So I went to the store to find out what the fuck’s going on, and we had a big fight. He said everything was off. He said the Pink Panthers didn’t want me, and he was getting out of the network anyway. He said something went sour. So I said what about the necklace? And he said his wife saw it and wanted it. So I told him he owed me, and I took a necklace out of the case. And the shithead came out after me, yelling that I stole a necklace. Can you believe it?”

“So you got arrested, and Vinnie bonded you out.”

“Exactly. I put my Mercedes up.”

“The one that got crushed?”

“Yeah. There’s something sort of good about that part, right? Anyway, next thing, I get a text message from Frank, and he wants to talk to me. So I go park in the lot behind the store, just like always. And Frank comes out, and he’s got the necklace. And he’s real sorry. And one thing leads to another, and I sort of have my face buried in his lap, so my vision is limited, right?”

Eeeuw.

“But I catch a flash of pink,” Joyce said. “And everything instantly goes limp on Frank. Everything . And next thing, I get stunned. And when I come around I’m stuffed into the trunk of a car with Frank. And Frank’s dead. I don’t know how he got dead. He wasn’t shot. There was no blood. For all I know, he could have had a heart attack. By the time I was able to get out from under Frank and get to the inside trunk latch, it was dark, and turned out the car was parked at the junkyard. I barely got out of the trunk, and the dog came at me and I ran for my life. Good thing the car was parked close to the fence. I went up the chain-link like a ninja.”

“And you think it was the Pink Panthers?”

“Who else would it be? I saw the flash of pink material when they zapped Frank.”

“And you’re afraid to go back to your condo.”

“They could be watching,” Joyce said. “They tried to kill me once. I figure they’ll keep trying if they see I’m alive.”

I gnawed on a piece of chicken and chugged the rest of my beer. “It doesn’t add up. Why would they want to kill you?”

“I guess I know too much. Frank told me the names of some of the thieves. And I saw pictures of the two people we were going to be working with in New York.”

I didn’t know how the Pink Panthers operated, but if I wanted someone dead, I wouldn’t just abandon them in the junkyard. I’d make sure they were totally and completely dead before I walked away.

“Why don’t you go to the police?” I asked her.

“Even if they believe my story, what are they going to do to help me?”

Here was the question I dreaded asking. “Why are you here? What do you expect me to do to help you?”

“I need the treasure chest. Everything is in there. All the Pink Panther contact information. I figure if I could get in touch with the Panthers, I could negotiate.”

“Where is this treasure chest?”

“Frank used to keep it at the store.”

“You know what it looks like, right?”

“It looks like a miniature pirate chest. Frank said you hide things in obvious places because that’s never where anyone looks. He kept the chest on the shelf behind the register. There are some picture frames, and small glass vases, and the chest is in the middle.”

I finished my piece of chicken and washed my hands. I wanted a cookie, but I wasn’t going to open the package of Vienna Fingers in front of Joyce. I didn’t want to share.

“I’m not breaking into the store,” I said.

“It’s not a big deal. I know the code. I watched Frank punch it in.”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“The Panthers could be watching.”

“I think there’s a real good chance they’ve all gone back to Pink Panther land.”

“No way. The Panthers are tenacious.” She eyeballed the Vienna Fingers sitting on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to stay here forever.”

“Don’t even think about eating those Vienna Fingers,” I told her.

“Better on your hips than mine. Obviously, you don’t care how big your ass gets.”

Here are my options, I thought. I could stun her when she goes to sleep, drag her into the hall again, and have bars installed on my bedroom window. I could get the treasure chest. Or I could kill her.

“How am I going to get into the store?” I asked her.

“I assumed you had skills.”

“You assumed wrong. I have no skills.” That wasn’t even an understatement. What I had was luck, friends, and tenacity born of desperation.

“You know people who do have skills,” Joyce said.

“Fine,” I said, “I’ll get the stupid treasure chest.” I grabbed the Vienna Fingers and shoved them into my messenger bag. “Do not eat my frozen pizza. Do not drink my wine.”

Joyce tore a scrap off one of the grocery bags and wrote the code on it. “Say hello to Ranger for me. Tell him if he ever wants to trade up, I might give him a tug.”

For a moment I considered option number three. Someone really needed to kill Joyce. My fear was that I’d bungle it. Then what? She could be a living vegetable in my apartment for the rest of her life while I spooned soup into her and rubbed her feet.

I hiked my bag up onto my shoulder and left my apartment. I took the elevator and called Ranger when I got to the foyer.

“I need help,” I said. “I need to break into a jewelry store.”

There was a beat of silence. “Looking to accessorize?”

“I need to get into Frank Korda’s store. Can you get me in? I know the security code.”

“No problem.”

“I’m leaving my apartment now. I’ll meet you behind the store in about twenty minutes.”

I still had the Glock in my bag. I wrapped my hand around it, left the building, and walked to my truck with my eyes sweeping the lot, looking for Razzle Dazzle. I made it to the truck, got up behind the wheel, and locked the doors.

The drive to Korda’s store was uneventful, and Ranger’s Porsche 911 Turbo was already parked in the lot when I got there. I pulled in beside him and got out.

“Babe,” Ranger said. “You’re supposed to dress in black for a nighttime jewel heist.”