Janet Evanovich - Takedown Twenty

I nodded. “Thanks.”

I hadn’t identified myself at the apartment, and with luck Antwan didn’t know who I was or where to find me.

Morelli showed up at seven o’clock with Bob, a pizza box, a six-pack, and a bag from the drugstore. He looked at me and went pale.

“It’s just a broken nose,” I said, squinting at him through eyes that were reduced to slits in a face that looked like a Tequila Sunrise gone wrong.

“What happened?”

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“I want the long version.”

I gave him the long version while we ate pizza and drank beer.

“At the risk of being insensitive… you’re a disaster,” Morelli said.

“No offense taken. You’re right. I’m a disaster. I’m thinking about getting a different job.”

Morelli set the pizza box out for the trash and got the ice cream from the freezer. “The world will be relieved to hear that.” He got two bowls from the cupboard. “Do you have any good possibilities?”

“Possibilities? Yes. Good possibilities? No.”

We ate ice cream in front of the television, and then Morelli watched a showing of The Godfather , and I sat next to him with cold packs over my eyes.

“I hope I look okay by tomorrow,” I told him. “I have things to do.”

“Cupcake, you’re going to look like a train wreck tomorrow.”

“We might not get to use all the items you got at the drugstore.”

“No problem. They have an expiration date of 2023.”

TWENTY-ONE

I COULDN’T BREATHE through my nose, and I didn’t sleep well. Halfway through the night Morelli and Bob moved to the couch, and at six in the morning Morelli came in to check on me.

“I’m going to take Bob for a walk, and then I’m leaving for work,” he said. “Can I do anything for you?”

“I’m beyond help.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “You look better this morning. The swelling is down. Hardly any purple, and already you’re turning green. Green is always a good sign.”

“You should know.”

“Yeah, I’ve been known to smash my nose into a fist from time to time.”

I listened to the door click and lock behind him, and I went back to sleep. It was after nine by the time I finally dragged myself out of bed and stared into the bathroom mirror. Morelli was right about the swelling. My eyes weren’t normal, but they were much better. Dark glasses and some concealer, and I wouldn’t be too scary-looking. Not much I could do about the big adhesive bandage across my nose. That would have to stay in place for a while.

Truth is, I’d gotten off lucky. If Antwan had been two inches more to the right I might have killed an unarmed man. That’s the sort of thing that can get you an orange prison jumpsuit. The bruising on my face would go away in days, but I could have been in the jumpsuit for years . And even beyond that I wouldn’t have wanted Antwan’s death on my hands. Bad enough I shot off his ear.

I did the best I could with makeup. I left my hair long and curly, letting it partially fall across my face. And I wore a scoop-necked red sweater, hoping to focus attention on my cleavage and not on my nose. I went to my living room window and looked out at the parking lot. The little black Honda CR-V was waiting for me. It had all its wheels and side mirrors. Ranger had obviously rescued it before the chop shop went to work.

First stop of the day was the office. Connie gasped when I walked in, and Lula leaned in for a closer look.

“I expected you to look a lot worse than this,” Lula said. “Hard to tell with the bandage, but I’m guessing your nose isn’t taking a right turn no more. And you look green under the makeup, which is much better than purple. Except you sort of got a zombie thing going on.”

I went to the coffeemaker and poured myself a cup. “So I’ve been told.”

“I checked the hospitals and emergency clinics,” Connie said. “Antwan showed up at a clinic attached to Mercy Memorial. It sounds like you reconfigured most of his outer ear, and gave him a permanent part in his hair on the side of his head, but no further damage. His chart listed ‘fall down stairs’ as cause of injury.”

“You think he gonna be playing basketball today?” Lula asked.

“I don’t care if he’s playing basketball today,” I said. “I’m done. Antwan is someone else’s problem.”

“What do you mean, ‘done’?” Lula asked.

“Done being a bounty hunter, fugitive apprehension agent, bail bond enforcer,” I said. “Done, done, done.”

“Oh boy,” Connie said.

Vinnie stuck his head out of his office. “What do you mean, ‘done’? Who’s going to get Sunucchi?”

“You,” I said to Vinnie. “You’re up.”

“I’ve got things to do here,” he said. “I’ve got responsibilities.”

“Is this about blowing off that idiot’s ear?” Lula asked. “Because it was his fault anyways. And besides it was only an ear. Not to mention he ruined my Brakmin. And as far as your nose goes, it could happen to anyone with that gun. That gun’s not normal.”

Vinnie pointed at Lula. “I’m giving you a promotion. You’re the new bounty hunter.”

“Not me,” Lula said. “I don’t mind being the assistant bounty hunter, but I’m not taking over as bounty hunter. It’s a terrible job. Everybody hates you and shoots at you. Look at Stephanie. She’s a mess.”

I pulled a folder with all my paperwork out of my messenger bag and handed it to Connie. “These are all the open cases.”

“What are you gonna do?” Lula asked. “You got another job?”

“Maybe.”

Randy Berger’s deli was on the edge of the Burg. It had formerly been known as Schmidt’s Meats, and Randy had changed the name to Berger’s Bits. The place was primarily a butcher shop, but there were a few staples on shelves in the front of the store, plus there were racks of condiments. It was next to a store that sold cupcakes, and beyond the cupcake store was a dry cleaner and a pet groomer.

I parked in the small lot next to Berger’s Bits and worked on my enthusiasm. This could be great, I told myself. It would be safe. I’d keep regular hours. And I’d learn something about meat. Morelli would like that. Meat was one of his favorite things.

I’d been in the store a couple times when I’d run errands for my mom, but not recently. Mostly she shopped at Giovichinni’s, because it was closer. If Randy Berger gave her a discount she’d be shopping there. There were two large plate glass windows on either side of the door in the front of the store. They were papered with handwritten specials and ads for lottery tickets. The register was just inside the door. One register. One plump lady working the register. She was wearing a bright blue smock with “Berger’s Bits” embroidered over her left breast. “Janice” was embroidered under “Berger’s Bits.”

I walked to the back of the store, where Randy Berger was waiting on an elderly woman. A second woman patiently stood in line. Randy saw me, and his face flushed even more scarlet than usual, but it was no match for my green and black bruising.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said.

I attempted a smile. “No problem.”

Immaculate glass cases lined three sides of the store. The poultry, lamb, beef, pork, and sausages were nicely displayed, considering it was all dead flesh. Cook it up and put some gravy on it and I’m happy. Anything precooking and I’m one step from gag. With the possible exception of bacon. Bacon comes shrink-wrapped in strips and has no relationship to anything other than bacon. I know there are rumors that bacon originates with Porky Pig, but I find that incomprehensible. If Randy gave me a job I hoped I’d get put in charge of the bacon. Sausage would be okay too.