Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

“Exactly,” Lula said. “I need it to balance out my generously proportioned bosoms.”

Connie and I knew this was an understatement. Lula’s bosoms were way beyond generous.

“Did you find anything helpful in the files I gave you?” Connie asked me.

“Yes. I’m going to start with Julius Roman. I’m joining him for lunch today.”

“While you have lunch with the mobster, I’m going to hunt down the shoplifter,” Lula said.

—

New Town Deli was squashed between an office building and a pawnshop in a part of Trenton that got a lot of foot traffic at lunchtime. I sat across the street from the deli and watched for Roman. At 11:55 I saw him walking toward me. He was the exact opposite of Benny the Skootch. Roman was thin and spry. If he had a posse with him, I couldn’t spot them. He was neatly dressed in a button-down shirt, gray slacks with a razor-sharp crease, and a blue blazer. I’d be disappointed if he wasn’t carrying under the blazer. I gave him time to get settled at his table before I left the Buick. I wanted to make sure no one else was dining with him. At 12:15, I crossed the street and entered the deli. The room was long and narrow. Generic booths ran along one wall. Wood tables that seated four filled the rest of the space. All of the booths and half of the tables were filled. At the very back, next to the swinging door to the kitchen, was a small table with a white tablecloth. This was Roman’s table. He was sitting quietly with a glass of red wine in front of him. He was smiling, thinking his own thoughts. That ended when he saw me. He looked around and relaxed when he realized I was alone. Not that he had to worry. I’m sure the waiter was adept with a garrote, and at a moment’s notice the chef would be at the table with his carving knife.

“Mr. Roman,” I said, “would you mind if I join you?” Going with polite and respectful.

“Not at all,” he said.

A waiter immediately appeared at my side.

“Miss Plum will be dining with me,” Roman said.

I waved the waiter away and turned back to Roman. “Thank you, but I just want a moment of your time. We have a problem. Apparently, the La-Z-Boys aren’t the only ones interested in finding the keys.”

Roman nodded. He knew this.

“And I’m sure you know that I was shot during an attempt to kidnap Grandma yesterday.”

Another nod.

“One of the men is in the hospital, and the second man was just found dead behind the bonds office.”

Roman’s face showed nothing.

“Did you know?” I asked. And what I was really asking was, did the La-Z-Boys commission the hit?

“I didn’t know about the second man,” Roman said. “I’m not surprised. The stakes are high.”

“Do you know this other party?”

“I have suspicions.”

“And?” I asked.

“And they’re just suspicions.”

“You must be worried that someone will get to Grandma before you.”

Roman shrugged. “We’ll get her one way or another. We would prefer that she gives the keys up without violence. At least I would prefer that. I can’t speak for Lou.”

“She doesn’t have the keys.”

Another shrug from Roman.

“I’m good at finding things,” I told him.

“People.”

“Yes. But I might be able to hunt down the keys if I had a little help.”

“What kind of help?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for. I don’t know how many keys we’re talking about. I don’t know what they look like. I don’t know their purpose.”

“You don’t need to know any of those things. If you’re lucky enough to run across them, you’ll know they’re the keys.”

The waiter approached. “So sorry to disturb you, Mr. Roman. Would you like your soup now, or would you prefer to wait a little?”

“I’ll have it now,” Roman said. “My guest is leaving.”

I stood and settled my bag on my shoulder. “Can you give me a starting point? You knew Jimmy. What would he do with the keys?”

“If I knew the answer to that question, I’d be in possession of the keys,” Roman said.

I left the deli and returned to the Buick. I was about to drive out of the lot when I got a call from Lula.

“I got him!” Lula yelled into the phone. “I got the little weasel. He was coming out of Macy’s with a bag, just like last time. I chased him down, and I yanked him out of his Escalade. I was awesome.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m still in the Macy’s lot. I thought I’d drive him straight to the pokey.”

“You can’t do that. You aren’t officially hired to do that job. You haven’t got any of the necessary papers to make a capture. Stay in the Macy’s parking area, and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LULA WAS PACING BESIDE her Firebird when I pulled in next to her.

“Where is he?” I asked. “I don’t see him in your car.”

“He’s in the trunk. I couldn’t get him to calm down. He was thrashing around and yelling, so I had to stun him and cuff him, and then I put him in the trunk. It’s nice and quiet and dark in there. I figured he’d be comfy. I keep my trunk real clean. It’s got one of those all-weather liners.”

“We can’t keep him in the trunk. Get him out and we can put him in my Buick.”

Lula opened the trunk and I looked in.

“That’s not him,” I said.

“Of course it’s him,” Lula said. “It looks just like him.”

“Help! Police! Help!” the guy yelled.

I closed the lid on him. He was still yelling, but it was muffled.

I pulled Lula aside. “Did you check for an ID? Did you look in the bags to see if he had receipts for his purchases?”

“Hell, no, I didn’t do any of that. I was too busy wrestling him under arrest. He was totally uncooperative.”

“Maybe because you’ve got the wrong man.”

“Well, I didn’t have the file with me. I had to go on memory. And what about the Escalade? He was getting into a Escalade.”

“Lots of people have Escalades. This one doesn’t have the right license plate.”

“Oops,” Lula said.

I opened the trunk again, apologized, and helped him out. His face was red, and he was sweating.

“She stun-gunned me,” he said. “I thought I was going to die.”

Lula attempted to unlock his cuffs, and he kicked out at her.

“Get her away from me,” he said. “She’s nuts. She’s a psycho.”

I took the key from Lula and got the cuffs off him. I apologized again and told him Lula was on medication and had escaped from her handler. I carried his bags to the Escalade and promised him I would take Lula back to the rehab center. He wanted my name and I told him I was Joyce Barnhardt.

We watched him drive away.

“That was embarrassing,” Lula said.

“We should leave before he comes back with the police.”

“Are you going to the office?”

“No. I’m going to my parents’ house to talk to Grandma about the keys.”

“I’ll follow you so I can make sure you don’t get shot again.”

Twenty minutes later we parked behind the Rangeman SUV and walked into my parents’ house. Grandma was at the dining room table, working on her bucket list.

“Let’s see what you’ve got here,” Lula said, sitting next to her. “Whoa, a trip to Antarctica. That’s a good one. Although I heard the penguins are real stinky.”

I didn’t see my mother in the kitchen.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“Grocery shopping. That’s why I’m sitting in the dining room. If someone busts in the back door again, I have more time to run out the front door.”

I poked around in the fridge and found a container of leftover chicken salad.

“Anyone want to share this?” I asked.