AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He smiled and kissed me on the top of my head. “You really should think about getting into a different line of work. Grooming kitty cats, maybe. Or floral design.”
“It was very convincing.”
“Did the little girl witness a murder?”
“No. She stole a medal that was worth a suitcase full of money.”
Ranger raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Good for her. I like to see enterprise in kids.”
“I haven't got a murder witness. And the bear and the rabbit are dead. I think I'm fucked.”
“Maybe after lunch,” he said. “My treat.”
“You mean lunch is your treat?”
“That, too. I know a place here in Newark that makes Shorty's look like a sissy joint.”
Oh boy.
“And by the way, I checked your thirty-eight when you left it in the truck. You only have two bullets in it. I have this sinking feeling that the gun will go back to the cookie jar when you empty the cylinder.”
I smiled at Ranger. I can be mysterious, too.
RANGER PAGED HECTOR when we were on our way home, and Hector was in front of my apartment, waiting for us when we stepped out of the elevator. He handed the new keypad to Ranger, and he smiled at me and made a gun with his fist and forefinger. “Bang,” he said.
“Pretty good,” I said to Ranger. “Hector's learning English.”
Ranger flipped me the keypad, and he left with Hector.
I let myself into my apartment, and I stood in my kitchen. Now what? Now I had to hang out and wonder when Abruzzi would come for me. What form would it take? And how awful would it be? Awful beyond my imaginings, probably.
If I was my mother I'd be ironing. My mother ironed under stress. Stay far away from my mother when she is ironing. If I was Mabel I'd be baking. What about Grandma Mazur? That was an easy one. The Weather Channel. So what do I do? I eat Tastykakes.
Okay, there's my problem. I haven't got any Tastykakes. I'd had a burger with Ranger, but I'd skipped dessert. And now I needed a Tastykake. Without a Tastykake I was left to sit here and worry about Abruzzi. Unfortunately, I had no way of taking myself out to Tastykake Land because I didn't have a car. I was still waiting for the stupid insurance check to arrive.
Hey, hold the phone. I could walk to the convenience store. Four blocks. Not the sort of thing a Jersey gi
rl ordinarily did, but what the hell. I had my gun back in my bag with two bullets ready and waiting. That was a confidence builder. I would have shoved it under the waistband of my jeans like Ranger and Joe, but there wasn't room. Probably I should restrict myself to just one Tastykake.
I locked up and took the stairs to the first floor. I didn't live in a fancy building. It was kept clean, and it was adequately maintained. It had been built without frills. And for that matter, without quality. Still, it was enduring. It had a back door and a front door and both doors opened to a small foyer. The stairs and the elevator also opened to the foyer. Mailboxes banked one wall. The floor was tiled. Management had added a potted palm and two wingback chairs in an attempt to compensate for the lack of a swimming pool.
Abruzzi was sitting in one of the wingback chairs. His suit was impeccable. His shirt was a brilliant white. His face was expressionless. He motioned to the wingback next to him. “Sit down,” he said. “I thought we should have a conversation.”
Darrow was motionless at the door.
I sat in the chair, and I took the gun out of my bag, and I aimed it at Abruzzi. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Is that gun supposed to frighten me?”
“It's a precaution.”
“Not good military strategy for a meeting of surrender.”
“Which one of us is supposed to be surrendering?”
“You, of course,” he said. “You're soon to be taken as a prisoner of war.”
“News flash. You need serious psychiatric help.”
