Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

Ranger approached the woman at the desk and asked to see DeSalle. She said Mr. DeSalle was in conference and not to be disturbed.

“He’ll see me,” Ranger said.

“He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s in conference,” the woman said. Nervous. Probably making minimum wage and told never to think.

“No problem,” Ranger said.

He called his control room and asked where DeSalle’s office was located. He turned and walked left, down a corridor, found a door that said PRIVATE, and knocked.

DeSalle opened the door.

“Aphrodite called and said you were on your way,” DeSalle said. “She thought you might be a hired assassin or CIA. She’s very fit but not very smart. If this is about increasing my security, I feel like I’m sufficiently covered. If you’re here to tell me my house burned down, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m working with Stephanie,” Ranger said. “I’m sure you’ve heard that her grandmother was kidnapped this morning.”

“No,” DeSalle said. “I hadn’t heard. I know an attempt was made a couple days ago. The police were here, asking about the old Zeus. I believe he was involved.”

“How well did you know the old Zeus?” Ranger asked DeSalle.

“Not all that well,” DeSalle said. “I employed him. He had a following. Hard-core workout junkies and hard-up women. He had a reputation for making needy women happy. Not any of my business as long as it didn’t take place on the premises.”

“Someone hired him to do the kidnapping,” Ranger said. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I imagine it would be someone who wasn’t connected and wasn’t real bright. The old Zeus had muscle and that’s where his talent ended. I’ve been told that Marion Beggert was one of the women he regularly made happy enough to pay off his credit card. Have you seen Marion Beggert?”

Ranger shook his head, no.

“If you’d schtupp Marion Beggert for a couple bucks, you’d do most anything,” DeSalle said.

“Have you talked to any of the La-Z-Boys lately?” Ranger asked.

“I used to play poker once a week with the La-Z-Boys, but poker night was discontinued when Charlie took off and Benny got too fat to fit at the card table.”

“If you hear anything, let me know,” Ranger said.

DeSalle nodded. “You bet.”

“Did we get anything out of that?” I asked when we were back in the car.

“Not a lot, but I agree that an amateur hired Lucca.”

“Barbara?”

“Maybe, but there are a couple issues that make her a long shot. She would have to assemble another kidnap team on short notice, because I don’t think she’s capable of actually doing the kidnapping herself. And she would need a place to hold Grandma. Does she own any other properties?”

I called Connie. She was closing up shop for the day, but she ran a property check on Barbara for me.

“I’ve got two properties,” Connie said. “A house and a storage locker. The house is rented. It was Barbara’s house before she moved next door to Jeanine. The storage locker is on the road to White Horse.”

“We’ll take a look,” Ranger said. “We’ll do the house first.”

I called Morelli on the way to Barbara’s rental.

“I talked to Benny,” Morelli said. “He’s in the hospital with heart issues. Between gasping for breath, he told me to go fuck myself, and that was about the extent of our conversation. Charlie Shine made bail and was released an hour ago. I just missed him, and I haven’t been able to find him. I also haven’t been able to find Lou Salgusta.”

“We’re running down Lucca leads,” I said. “Let me know if you want us to change direction.”

—

The house in Hamilton was in a family-oriented neighborhood of nice middle-income homes. Lots of swing sets visible in backyards. An occasional basketball hoop attached to a garage.

Barbara’s rental house had a red and yellow Big Wheel tricycle parked on the short sidewalk leading to the small front porch.

Ranger and I walked around the tricycle and stepped onto the porch. A young woman carrying a baby answered the doorbell. Two toddlers and a dog were running around behind her. The kids were laughing and yelling, and the dog was barking.

“I’m looking for Barbara Rosolli,” I said to the woman.

“We rent the house from her,” the woman said, “but she’s never here. I’ve only seen her once, a couple years ago.”

One of the toddlers turned and ran past the woman and onto the porch. Ranger snagged him and redirected him back into the house.

“Thanks,” I said to the woman. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

We returned to the Porsche, and I buckled myself in. “You’re good with children,” I said to Ranger.

“You’ve seen my family in Newark. Lots of kids. Even more in Miami when I lived with my grandmother. I can change a diaper, make an omelet, and dance the salsa without my Hispanic machismo being threatened.”

“Do you miss Miami?”

“Less as time goes on.”

Thirty-five minutes later we were riding through two acres of storage lockers, looking for number 3175. Ranger found it and parked in front of it so that the SUV would shield us from view if other cars drove by. We got out, he picked the lock and unholstered his gun. The locker itself was the size of a small single-car garage. We rolled the door up and looked inside. No Grandma.

“This would have been too easy,” Ranger said. “Now what? Do you have any other suspects?”

“I have a long list of people who belonged to Miracle Fitness. Drop me off at my parents’ house so I can check on my mom and dad, and I’ll comb through the list one more time.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go back to Rangeman and see what I can find.”

—

My dad was in front of the television. The baseball bat was beside him, leaning against his chair. My mom was in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. No ironing board in sight. No Big Gulp of iced tea on the counter.

“Hey,” I said to my mom, “how’s it going?”

“I was just going to pull out some leftovers for dinner. Will you be eating with us?”

“Yep. I thought I’d grab something here. Why don’t I order pizza?”

“Pizza would be great. Your father would like that.”

I called Morelli to see if he wanted to join us.

“No,” he said. “I want to keep on this. Shine and Salgusta are holed up somewhere. I know something is going down with them. We’re looking for their cars, and we’re talking to relatives and neighbors.”

“What about Benny?”

“He’s in St. Francis. Looking at getting a stent tomorrow. I think he’s already got a bunch of them.”

There’s my weak link, I thought. I hung up with Morelli and called Pino’s. Twenty minutes later we got pizza delivery. One large pie with extra cheese, one large pie with the works, one small pie with the works.

“I’m taking the small pizza to a friend,” I told my mom. “You and Dad go ahead and eat without me. I’ll eat when I get back. I won’t be long.”

St. Francis Medical Center is on the edge of the Burg and a three-minute car ride from my parents’ house. I parked, got Benny’s room number from the attendant at the lobby desk, and went straight to his room.

There were two beds. One was empty. Benny was in the other. He was in a hospital gown, looking like he was about to give birth to twins. He had an oxygen thing hooked up to his nose and an IV drip hooked up to his arm. He was clearly shocked to see me.

“What the hell?” he said.

“I heard you were here,” I said, “and I thought you might be hungry.” I opened the pizza box and set it on his bedside table.

“Oh man,” Benny said. “That’s a Pino’s with the works.” He pushed a button on the side of his bed, and it raised him up into a sitting position. “Close the door a little so the nurses don’t see. I’m supposed to be on a special diet.”