Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

“I don’t think so. I’m walking Bob right now. Tell him to text me.”

So this all sounds pretty tough on my part, but the truth is I was a little rattled. I’d seen this scene countless times in mob movies, and it never ended well.

“Look, lady,” he said. “Just get in the car, okay?”

I pressed the speed dial to Ranger. He picked up, and I told him I might have a problem.

“Who are you calling?” the slick-haired guy asked.

“Ranger.”

“Oh jeez,” he said. “He’s the Rangeman dude, right? He threw my cousin out of a window once.”

“Was your cousin okay?”

“Eventually. Sort of. It was a third-floor window.”

“What did your mystery boss want to talk to me about?”

“I don’t know. I just ride around with Lou. We go for coffee, and we snatch people sometimes.”

“Bob is getting impatient,” I said. “I need to move on.”

“Sure,” he said. “Have a real nice day.”

Bob and I walked to the corner, and a Rangeman SUV pulled up.

“Everything’s okay,” I told them.

“Ranger would like us to escort you home. Would you like to ride, or would you rather walk?”

“We’ll take the ride,” I said. “Bob has already pooped. We have nothing important left to do.”

CHAPTER FOUR

RANGEMAN DROPPED ME at Morelli’s house and waited until I was safely inside. I closed and locked the door and looked out the window. They were still at the curb.

“Whatever,” I said to Bob.

I poured his dinner kibble into his bowl, gave him fresh water and a hug, and told him Morelli would be home soon. Maybe. I left the house, got into my borrowed Buick, and chugged away. The Rangeman SUV followed me. Okay by me. As far as I was concerned, they could follow me for the rest of my life. Or at least until my life improved.

I parked in my apartment building lot, gave the Rangeman SUV a friendly wave, and took the stairs to my apartment. Rex was asleep in his soup can when I walked into the kitchen. I tapped on his cage and some hamster bedding moved, but Rex stayed snug in his nest. I lifted the lid on my brown bear cookie jar, looked in at my gun, and thought maybe I should put bullets in it. Just in case. I searched my junk drawer. No bullets. I could go out to buy bullets, but I wasn’t sure where one went to do this. Dick’s Sporting Goods, maybe. Dick’s had everything. I went to the window. The Rangeman SUV was still there. They’d follow me to Dick’s. And then they might follow me inside and see me wandering around, trying to figure out where to buy bullets. It would be embarrassing. I’d look like a moron.

I put the lid back on the cookie jar. At this time of the day the traffic would be horrible getting to Dick’s. And did I really want to shoot someone? No. So, what was the point in getting bullets? If I felt like I needed bullets tomorrow, I’d have Lula get some for me. They sold ammo at her hair salon.

—

Bingo doesn’t start until seven o’clock, but Grandma likes to get there early so she can get her lucky seat. I rolled to a stop in front of my parents’ house at six-thirty and Grandma was waiting on the porch. She had her big patent leather purse hung in the crook of her arm. This meant she was carrying. It was the only purse that could accommodate her .45 long-barrel.

“How’d you get out of the house with that purse?” I asked her when she climbed in.

“I waited until your mother went to the bathroom and then I sneaked out.”

A glass repair truck was parked in the driveway, and two men were on the porch fixing the broken window.

“Fast service,” I said.

“The guy with the ball cap is in the same lodge as your father. They stick together.”

Five minutes later I pulled up to the fire station.

“Evelyn isn’t going to be here tonight,” Grandma said, “so there’ll be an extra seat next to me if you want to play. It’s going to be a good night. Marvina is calling, and they got a grand prize donated by Dittman’s Meat Market.”

I imagined my mother whispering in my ear. “ Do not leave your grandmother’s side. I’m holding you responsible. Do not let her break any more fingers or shoot anyone.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll play. Hold the seat for me while I park the car.”

I dropped Grandma off and circled around to the lot behind the firehouse. Rangeman followed. I parked and walked up to their SUV.

“I’m going to be a couple hours,” I told them. “I’m making sure Grandma doesn’t shoot anyone at bingo.”

There was a moment of silence while they digested this.

“Seriously?” the driver asked.

“Instructions from my mother,” I said.

I went into the bingo hall and took my position next to Grandma. She was the center of attention, accepting condolences and sharing wake details. Marvina was at the front table, checking out the basket holding the bingo balls. Women were beginning to take their seats and lay out their cards. The door opened and Tootie and Rose walked in. A hush fell over the room, and everyone but me took a step back from Grandma.

Tootie reached into her purse, someone yelled, “She’s got a gun!” and everyone hit the floor. Tootie pulled a bingo dauber out of her purse, and there was a collective sigh of relief.

“I got a good feeling about today,” Grandma said, getting to her feet. “I feel lucky.”

“You got firebombed!”

“Yeah, but it didn’t burn the house down. And I’m wearing my lucky shoes. I was wearing these shoes when Jimmy hit the jackpot.”

I assumed she was also wearing the shoes when he died, but no point mentioning it and ruining her lucky high.

Marvina gave her bingo basket a spin, and there was a scramble for seats. Tootie and Rose settled on the opposite side of the room from Grandma. They set out their equipment, straightened their cards, and glared at Grandma.

“They’re trying to put the hex on me,” Grandma said.

“There’s no such thing as the hex.”

“Maybe not, but I’m glad I’m wearing these shoes. I’m planning on getting that grand prize tonight. I heard Dittman put a rump roast in the basket.”

After ten minutes of play, Ginny Barkalowski called out “ Bingo !”

“Dang,” Grandma said. “I’m not keeping up with my cards. I can’t concentrate with Tootie hexing me. She’s giving me the eye.”

I glanced across the room at Tootie and saw that she was mumbling and had her finger pulling on her lower eyelid.

“Ignore her,” I said to Grandma. “It’s all baloney.”

Grandma slid her middle finger alongside her nose and stuck her tongue out at Tootie.

“Are you giving her the finger?” I asked Grandma.

“It’s just that my nose itched,” Grandma said. “Was I using my middle finger?”

“Yes. And you were doing it on purpose.”

“I got a bunch of slick moves like that,” Grandma said.

“If you dial back the moves I’ll take you to the diner for rice pudding after bingo.”

“I’ll do my best, but it’s hard when you keep getting provoked.”

—

Morelli called at eight o’clock.

“I can’t talk long,” I said, stepping outside the bingo hall. “I’m at bingo with Grandma. Tootie and Rose are here, and Grandma thinks they’re trying to put a hex on her.”

“She’s probably right,” Morelli said. “I hear emotions are running high over Dittman’s rump roast.”

“You know about the rump roast?”

“I’m a cop. I know everything.”

“How did it go with the guy who exploded himself? Did you find all his parts?”

“Mostly,” Morelli said. “A cat ran off with something, and we couldn’t catch it. We think it might have been a finger. How’s your day going, aside from bingo?”