Janet Evanovich - Takedown Twenty

“I guess I should have gone for the fire extinguisher instead of the schnapps,” Randy said. “I just grabbed the first thing I saw that was liquid.”

The glow from the schnapps was long gone, I was starving hungry, and I was finding it difficult to focus. I wanted to crawl into my bed and pretend the day had never happened. I’d called Morelli an hour ago, and he and Bob were close behind me, waiting to take me home.

The guy from the fire department closed his notebook, glanced at Morelli, and gave him one of those looks that said, You poor bastard, how did you ever get involved with this idiot woman?

“Really sorry about your apartment,” I said to Randy. “Probably I’m not cut out to be a butcher, but at least I know how to cook a steak now.”

Randy nodded, and Morelli maneuvered me across the street and into his SUV.

“Do you think he understands that I’m not going to show up for work tomorrow?” I asked Morelli.

“I don’t think it matters,” Morelli said. “The fire marshal found half a truckload of hijacked schnapps in Berger’s apartment. He had cases of it stacked up like cordwood in his bedroom. There’s a good chance Berger won’t be showing up for work either.”

Bob and Morelli and I trooped into my apartment and went straight to the kitchen. We made grilled cheese and ham sandwiches, and ate them with pickles and potato chips. Morelli had a beer, and I had a soda since I was sworn off alcohol for the rest of my life.

“I need to go back to Randy’s apartment tomorrow and get Ranger’s CR-V,” I said to Morelli.

“The black one in the laundromat lot?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure Ranger will just have it towed.” Morelli fed the last half of his second sandwich to Bob. “You know it got totaled by a fire truck, right?”

“What?”

“I went over to talk to some of the guys while you were giving your report to the investigator. It looked like the truck rolled right over it.”

I dialed Ranger on my cellphone.

“About your CR-V,” I said.

“I know about the CR-V. This is almost as good as the time you totaled my Porsche with a garbage truck. Are you okay?”

“Yep. I’m peachy.”

“Good to know,” Ranger said, and he disconnected.

Morelli took a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and began spooning it into three bowls. “What’s the word on Berger? Did you find Venetian blind cord stashed under his mattress?”

“I didn’t look under his mattress. I burned his apartment down before I got to see the bedroom.”

“More happy news.”

“Your Grandma Bella showed up at the shop today.”

“How’d that go?”

“Same old, same old. I’ve been cursed. Yada yada yada. I’m going to hell.” I took a bowl of ice cream from Morelli. “You don’t suppose the broken finger and nose and fire are from Bella, do you?”

“None of those things are from Bella. Let’s face it, Cupcake, you’re a klutz. And if you go to hell it will be your own doing and not Bella’s.”

Bob finished his ice cream in seconds and closely watched Morelli and me in case some ice cream should fall off a spoon and onto the floor.

“Bella bought blood sausage and tongue,” I said to Morelli.

Morelli brightened at the news. “I bet she’s going to make some up for the game.”

“You eat that stuff?”

“It’s great. You should learn how to make it. My mom and Bella cook it up with sauerkraut. The smell could peel wallpaper off a wall, but it tastes fantastic.”

A chill ran down my spine. I had a flashback to the game party with the shrieking kids, and the dog poop, and crazy Bella. And now I find out there’s cow tongue involved in the whole family thing.

“It’s cow tongue ,” I said to him. “Have you ever seen one that wasn’t in a stew?”

“I thought you liked tongue,” Morelli said.

“Not cow tongue!”

Morelli grinned. “Guess it’s an acquired taste. I have to go. Early meeting tomorrow.”

I finished my ice cream, took two aspirin, and headed off to the bathroom. I washed my hair twice and stood under the water until the smell of burned steak was just a distant memory.

TWENTY-THREE

I HAD A terrible night. Weird dreams, a dull ache moving around inside my head, and night sweats. I gave up trying to sleep when the sun poured into my bedroom and the world turned into a big red fireball on the other side of my closed eyelids.

So here’s a fast assessment of my situation. I was hungover, unemployed, had no money, no car, no food left in my fridge, and I owed Victor pork chops.

I dragged myself out of bed, dressed in my usual uniform of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and called Lula.

“I need a ride,” I told her.

“Thank God,” Lula said. “This better be a call telling me you’re coming back, because I’m feeling overworked. The new issue of Star came out, and I haven’t had a chance to read it. It’s ‘Lula, do this,’ and ‘Lula, do that.’ Plus your pervert cousin is saying he’s gonna hire Joyce Barnhardt, and you know how I feel about Joyce Barnhardt. I hate Joyce Barnhardt.”

Joyce Barnhardt has double-D breast implants, a lot of dyed red hair, and a way with whips and paddles that Vinnie finds appealing. She’s also a psycho sociopath and genuinely horrible person.

“First things first,” I told Lula. “A fire truck totaled my loaner CR-V, and I don’t see a replacement in my parking lot. I was hoping you’d give me a ride over to my parents’ house so I could get the Buick.”

“Get out! Are you shitting me? A fire truck totaled Ranger’s car? That’s almost as good as when the garbage truck totaled the megabucks Porsche he loaned you. That car was only one inch thick when they finally got the garbage truck off it. I can’t wait to hear about this. My day is getting better already. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

I went through jacket pockets and four shelved handbags, and searched the bottom of my messenger bag for loose change. I found three tracking units from Ranger plus two dollars and seventy-five cents. I put it all in my messenger bag and took the stairs to the lobby.

I called Ranger while I waited for Lula.

“I cleaned out my closet, and I found three mini tracking units. I assume you want them back?”

“You can return them to me, or you can plant them on yourself. One of those units helped us find you on the bridge.”

“True, but sometimes being tracked twenty-four hours a day feels creepy.”

“Your call,” Ranger said. “I’m guessing you need a car?”

“I’m waiting for Lula. She’s going to take me to pick up Big Blue.”

“I have a car coming in for you, but I won’t have it until later today. I’ll find you and swap Blue out for it when it arrives.”

“How will you find me if I don’t carry one of your trackers?”

“I’ll call you on your cellphone.”

I hung up and looked through my messenger bag one more time. I didn’t believe for an instant that he wasn’t tracking me somehow. Undoubtedly he had something stuck onto the Buick, but I knew in my gut there was something else.

I looked at the phone in my hand and dialed him back.

“Have you hacked my cellphone?” I asked him.

“Babe,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.

Lula swung the Firebird into the lot to my building, stopped in front of the lobby door, and I jumped in.

“How’d you manage to get a fire truck to run over that cute little car Ranger gave you?” she asked me.

“I wanted to see if Randy Berger had any Venetian blind cord lying around, and while I was in his apartment I accidentally started a fire. And then the fire truck accidentally ran over Ranger’s car.”