Janet Evanovich: Twelve Sharp

When Willard left, Connie ripped Willard's sheet off the clipboard. 'Two down.'

The nine-thirty interview was precisely on time. He was dressed in head-to-toe black leather and had a six-shooter strapped to his leg.

That gun looks vintage,' Lula said. 'Is it real?'

'You bet your ass,' he said. And he pulled the gun, twirled it around on his finger, and shot a hole in the front panel of Connie's desk. 'Oops,' he said. 'Sorry about that. Slipsies.'

Another sheet got ripped off the board. Four to go.

Anton Rudder was next in the hot seat. 'I can do this job,' he said. 'I'll go out there and get those motherfuckers. They won't even know what hit them. I'll have their law-breakin' ass in the trunk of my car

'Actually, we almost never transport someone in the trunk,' I said.

'Yeah, but that's because you're pussy,' Anton said. 'This whole office is pussy. I figure that's why I got the callback. You need a real man here.'

'If we needed a real man we wouldn't have called your runt ass,' Lula said.

'No offense,' Anton said. 'I like pussy. I especially like fat black pussy. But it's not like pussy can do the same job a man can do. Everybody knows that. That's a scientific fact.'

Lula was on her feet, rooting through her shoulder bag. 'Excuse me? Did you just imply I was fat? Is that what I heard?'

'Probably you should leave before Lula finds her gun,' I said to Anton.

Lula had her head in her bag. 'It's in here somewhere.'

Anton hustled out the door, and Connie ripped his sheet off her clipboard.

Three interviews left, and I was having a hard time concentrating. I was in a state over Ranger.

Martin Dorn arrived for his interview looking relatively normal with the exception of a mustache drawn onto his upper lip with a black Magic Marker.

'It's always been my lifelong dream to be a bounty hunter,' Dorn said. 'I watch all the television shows. And I went to bounty hunter school on the Internet. You could ask me anything about being a bounty hunter, and I bet I know the answer.'

'That's promising,' Connie said. 'Do you know you have a Magic Marker mustache on your upper lip?'

'I tried to grow a real one, but I didn't have any luck at it,' he said. 'I'm good with a Magic Marker. I used one to draw a lightening bolt on my penis. Would you like to see it?'

Melvin Pickle was filing reports on the other side of the bank of cabinets. He popped his head up to take a look at Dorn, and Connie ripped Dorn's sheet off her clipboard.

The sixth applicant was a no-show.

The seventh was Brendan Yalenowski.

'I need to know my rights,' Brendan said. 'Am I allowed to shoot people? Suppose I shot someone while I was in the act of making an apprehension. Only suppose that person wasn't actually the guy I was looking for. Suppose it was someone who looked a little like the guy. And suppose he wasn't armed. And this is just theoretical, but suppose it turned out that I knew him and owed him money

Connie slouched in her seat when Brendan left. 'Is it too early in the day to start drinking?'

'This was a big bust,' Lula said. 'Who'd think this would be so hard? It's not like we were gonna be picky. I mean, look what you got doing this job, a former 'ho and someone who used to sell cheap ladies' panties.'

'I was a buyer,' I said. 'The job wasn't that bad.'

'Yeah, but you got fired.'

'Laid off. It wasn't my fault.'

Vinnie's office door was closed. 'Where's Vinnie?' I asked Connie. 'I haven't seen him all week.'

'He's in Biloxi. Bail bonds conference. And I hate to bring this up, but you need to bring in a couple of the high bonds. We need Lonnie Johnson and Leon James.'

'I made some phone calls last night, and I couldn't get anything on Johnson. Someone a lot scarier than I am is after him, and he's on the run. I'll try Leon James today.'

'I'll go with you,' Lula said. 'Only I gotta be careful because I just got my nails done, and I don't want to ruin them. This is my big night. I'm making my debut with the What tonight. We're gonna be at that bar on Third Street. The Hole.'

'That's a pretty rough bar. I didn't know they had bands,' I said to Lula.

'We're the first. They're trying something new. They said they wanted to expand their clientele.'

'I hope Sally isn't going in drag to that bar.'

'He's got a dress that's like mine only his is in red on account of he don't look good in gold. People be disappointed if Sally wasn't in drag. That's his thing. He's famous for his accessorizing.'

Salvatore Sweet is a good friend in a constant state of reinvention. He's played lead guitar with a bunch of bands. The Funky Butts, the Pitts, Beggar Boys, and Howling Dogs. When I met him he was playing in drag for the first time with the Lovelies, and that was where he hit the jackpot. Actually, it was just a local jackpot, but it was more success than he'd ever seen. When the band broke up Sally continued to perform in drag. He's currently driving a school bus days and playing guitar nights. His bands are always a collection of misfits. Good musicians most of the time who for one reason or another don't fit in anywhere else. In a bizarre way, Lula would be a perfect addition.

'If he goes in drag to the Hole he's going to be accessorizing in the hospital,' Connie said.

'Something to think about,' Lula said.

I glanced out the front window at the SUV. 'Does she ever get out?' I asked Connie. 'Just to stretch? Walk around?'

'I haven't seen her out since that first time when she came into the office looking for you.'

'I have a sick stomach over this Ranger thing,' I told Connie. 'I think we should get some background on Julie Martine's mother and stepfather. And maybe you could poke around in Arlington. I'd like to know more about Ranger's business there.'

Ten minutes later, we were in Lula's car, on the way to Leon James's last known address, and I was on the phone with Morelli.

'I need some help,' I told him. 'I'd like to know the captures Ranger made through his Virginia office. And it would be helpful if I could get a photograph of the Virginia Ranger.'

'The captures I should be able to get for you. The photo will only happen if he has a mug shot or a Virginia driver's license.'

'Good enough. And remember, it's Friday, and we're expected for dinner at my parents' house.'

'I'll be there,' Morelli said.

Lula parked in front of a two-story brick row house in a neighborhood adjacent to the Burg. 'Here it is,' she said. 'This is the address on the file.'

Leon James had listed the house as his residence and had also used it to secure the bond. He was a penny-ante hitman, selling his services to anyone with a grudge. Usually evidence is scarce against him. And witnesses have been known to recant stories and occasionally to disappear. He was wanted for arson and attempted murder. He was a third-time offender, and this was going to be an ugly capture.

'How are we going to do this?' Lula wanted to know. 'This isn't a nice guy. He kills people and burns down houses.'

'I think we'll have to be tricky.'

'Yeah, tricky. I like the sound of that.'

'First thing, we need to get him out of his house and into someplace public. Then we need to distract him until we can get him cuffed.'

'Okay,' Lula said. 'I'm with you.'

'That's it. That's all I've got.'

'That's not much,' Lula said.

'Suppose one of us calls him and says she wants to hire him to do a job. And then she could set up a meeting.'

'Good thinking. That's going to be you doing the calling, right? You're a way better liar than I am.'

I cut my eyes to Lula. 'You're an excellent liar.'

'Maybe, but I gotta be saving myself for tonight. I can't afford to use my voice too much.'

'That is so lame,' I said to Lula.