Janet Evanovich - Explosive Eighteen

“No. Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

“Nobody fucking smokes anymore. Just when I decide I need a cigarette, nobody smokes.”

“About the Pink Panther Schwarzenegger routine.”

Pat moved from the ham to the cheese. “Frank wasn’t the most exciting-looking guy. Short, bald, glasses, not a muscle anywhere in sight. But he discovered he could pretend to be a big-time jewel thief and get laid. Go figure.”

“How did you know all this? Did he tell you?”

“I knew he was messing around, so I hired a detective. He put it together for me.”

“But you didn’t divorce Frank?”

“I thought about it, but what was the point? I’m comfortable. I like my house. And I had someone to take the garbage out and shovel the snow. And the best part was I had some dumb slut taking care of Frank’s needs. I would have sent them all fruit baskets, but I didn’t want to give myself away.” She stared down into her empty glass. “Oh shit. Someone drank my vodka. Oh wait a minute, it was me!” And she did a sort of crazy-lady, semi-hysterical giggle.

“Do you have any idea who killed Frank?” I asked her.

“Probably one of his Pink Panther bimbos who found out the jewelry he gave her was fake. Personally, I’m not completely happy. I have to take my own garbage out now.”

I left Pat Korda and returned to Grandma.

“I’m going back to work,” I told her. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No, but thanks, I’m riding with Esther here. It’s a shame you missed the graveside ceremony. That’s the nicest cemetery. The deceased was laid to rest by a patch of woods. He must feel like he’s always camping out now. I swear it smelled like campfire.”

Esther nodded her head in agreement. “It did smell like a campfire. That’s such a cozy smell.”

I made a mental note to check the cemetery for Magpie.

I WENT HOME to change my clothes and discovered Joyce was back.

“That’s it,” I said to her. “I’m going to shoot you and bury your body where no one will ever find it.”

“Relax. I just dropped in to get my chest. You went to Korda’s house this morning, right?”

“Right. So I have some good news, and I have some bad news. The good news is the Pink Panthers aren’t trying to kill you. Probably no one’s trying to kill you. The bad news is, I found the treasure chest, but the only treasure in it was the remains of Korda’s cat, Miss Kitty.”

Joyce went pale. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it. It’s true. Ask Pat Korda. She’s got it sitting on her mantel. And just out of morbid curiosity, what did you really want with the chest?”

Joyce pressed her lips together and took a couple beats to get it together. “This is a real pisser,” she finally said. “I actually think you’re telling the truth. You haven’t got enough imagination to invent something that hideous.”

“About the chest?”

“What the hell, it doesn’t matter now. Frank said he kept the safe combination in it. He said half the combination was on my key, and the other half was in the chest.”

“You were going to rob the safe?”

“No. I was going to sell the combination. If I robbed the safe, I’d have to find a fence, and I didn’t think chances were good I could depend on the Pink Panthers. I tried picking the lock to the store, but I couldn’t get in. Then I thought of you. I figured you were dumb enough to get Ranger to open the door for you. Then you could get me the chest.”

“How about the guy who bought the combination? How was he getting in?”

“Not my problem,” Joyce said. “He could go in the front window with a bulldozer for all I cared.”

It was comforting to know Joyce was still her old obnoxious, rotten self. Parts of my life were so beyond my control that it was nice to have consistency in others.

“Since we have everything settled, I guess you’ll be leaving now and not coming back,” I said to Joyce.

“Yeah, I suppose, but I need a ride. In case you forgot, my car got compacted.”

“How did you get here?”

“Taxi. And I’m not taking one home. My income source just evaporated.”

Forty-five minutes later, I dropped Joyce off at her town house.

“You’re positive the Pink Panthers aren’t looking for me, right?” Joyce asked.

“Positive. Korda made the whole thing up. It was a line he used to get women to sleep with him. You weren’t the only one. And if he gave you any jewelry it was probably fake.”

“No shit. I found that out when I tried to pawn my necklace. I didn’t get crap for it.”

I drove away half afraid if I looked in my rearview mirror I’d see Joyce running after me.

I had a bunch of open files in my messenger bag that I should have started working my way through, earning rent money. But having resolved Lahonka, Buggy, and Joyce, I thought it was time to focus my energy on staying alive, and that meant I had to get rid of the photograph hunters. Raz was in the wind, and I had no good way to find him. Brenda was going to stick with her lame fiancée story, at least for now. That left Lancer and Slasher as the weak link. I was convinced they knew nothing beyond their instructions to follow me. I had to go farther up the food chain if I wanted real information.

I called Berger on my way across town. “Anything new on the photograph thing?” I asked him.

“Nothing significant.”

“How about insignificant?”

“Two out of three people polled agree that the second sketch looks like Ashton Kutcher.”

“Anything on Lancelot or Larder?” I asked.

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you had something?”

A moment of silence. “Absolutely.”

I knew from the length of the pause that his answer was actually no. I disconnected and called Morelli.

“Joyce is gone,” I said. “I have my apartment back.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“No. It’s a statement. Would you like an invitation?”

“Maybe.”

“Only maybe ?”

“I’m not in good shape here. We’re getting ready to make an arrest in the Korda case.”

“Really? Who?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Cupcake, you’re breathing shallow and begging for more when I tease you.”

“That wouldn’t be now,” I said to him. “Right now, I’m grinding my teeth and my eyes are squinty.”

“I have to go,” Morelli said.

“No! I need a favor.”

“I’m hoping this has to do with teasing.”

“It has to do with the FBI and the fact that three people are possibly trying to kill me.”

“You have my attention,” he said.

“Berger is no help at all. I think he knows something but he’s not sharing. I thought he might talk to you.”

“I’ll get back to you.”

While Morelli worked it from his angle, I thought I’d come at it from a different direction. I drove a quarter mile on Broad, turned right onto a side street, made another right, and found a parking place in front of the bonds office. Connie’s car was there. No Vinnie. No Lula.

Connie was paging through Star magazine when I walked in.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Where is everybody?”

“Vinnie is hiding at home. He’s afraid DeAngelo will demand a Ferrari. Lula’s off somewhere making coochy-coochy sounds at Moron Man. And I’m stuck in this hellhole. I can hear rats running overhead. Honest to God, I think they’re planning an attack.”

“I was hoping you could do some digging for me. We did a search on Mortimer Lancelot and Sylvester Larder, and I need to go deeper. They’re working for someone. I want to know who it is. I’m guessing it’s someone they met while they were security at the casino.”