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“The forty million dollars.”
“I don't know anything about forty million dollars.”
“The forty million Dickie withdrew from the firm's Smith Barney account. The forty million everyone wants, including Joyce and Rita, Smullen's girlfriend. Didn't Dickie tell you about the forty million?”
“That little prick better hope I don't find him because I'm going to kill him.”
“You're going to have to take a ticket on that one.”
“How do you know about this?”
“Joyce left her front door open one day and I happened to wander in and sit down at her kitchen desk and the drawer sort of opened and I found a bunch of numbers-”
“Stop. I don't want to know,” Morelli said.
“I just got a capture check. Suppose I treat to lunch.”
“That would be great, but I'm afraid to leave the house in case our boy returns.”
“You're in luck. I deliver.”
I left the bonds office and was about to plug the key into the Porsche's ignition when Ranger called.
“I'm looking at a monitor, and I'm not believing what I'm seeing,” Ranger said. “Dickie Orr just broke into your apartment. Isn't he supposed to be holding hands with Morelli?”
“Morelli just called and said Dickie disappeared.”
“Looks like we found him. Tank's on his way. Stay away from the area until I give you an all clear.”
Yeah, right. Douche bag Dickie just broke into my apartment, and I'm going to stay clear. Not. I put the car in gear and wheeled around into the Burg. First thing, I had
to lose Joyce. I cut through the alley behind Angie Kroegers house, hung a fast right, ripped through the parking lot for the Colonial Bar and Grille, and came out on Broad. I drove Broad for two blocks, hit Hamilton, and zipped past the bonds office. Joyce was nowhere in sight. Neither was Binkie. I was pretty sure Binkie had his Bluetooth working, calling the control room to see where the devil I was. The control room would be tuned to the GPS transmitter in the Cayenne and my purse, but I'd be in my lot by the time Binkie caught up with me.
I came up on my building and saw the black RangeMan SUV parked close to the back door. Tank was inside, doing his thing, so I hung back by the Dumpster, sitting at idle, trying to keep as low a profile as possible. Not easy in a Porsche Cayenne.
After a few minutes, the door to the building opened and Tank and Dickie emerged. A shot was fired and Tank went down. A black BMW whipped out of a parking space and slid to a stop in front of Dickie. Two men in the car. Dave was one. And his partner was driving. Dave jumped out of the car, grabbed Dickie, and shoved him into the backseat. Dave had two black eyes, a Band-Aid across his nose, and a huge bandage on his pinkie finger. He turned and drew his gun on Tank and fired.
I mashed my foot down hard on the gas and put my hand to the horn. Dave looked up in surprise but didn't move fast enough. Possibly the result of having had his nuts stapled. I bounced him off my left fender and took the side door off the BMW. I stopped and put the Cayenne into reverse. I wasn't entirely rational at that point, but I'm pretty sure my intent was to run over Dave a second time and finish the job. Fortunately for Dave, he was able to drag his ass into the Beemer before I got to him. The Beemer took off, laying rubber on the asphalt, squealing out of the lot as it passed Binkie on the way in.
Binkie and I ran to Tank. He was hit in the chest and leg. He was conscious and swearing and bleeding a lot, so we didn't wait for help. We loaded Tank into the back of the Explorer and took off for St. Frances Hospital. I was driving and Binkie was in back, applying pressure, trying to slow the bleeding. I called so emergency would be waiting for us. Then I called RangeMan and Morelli.
We off-loaded Tank at emergency, and he was whisked away. We were still in the drop zone when Ranger arrived in his turbo, followed by a RangeMan SUV. Morelli was behind the SUV with his Kojak roof light flashing.
We all got out and stood in a clump, five guys and me. If adrenaline was electricity, we were turning out enough to light up Manhattan.
“How bad is it?” Ranger asked.
“He should be okay,” Binkie said. “He was hit in the thigh and right side of the chest. Didn't sound like he had a lung problem. Maybe cracked a rib.”
“Dave shot him once from a distance and then again at pretty close range,” I told Ranger. “Fortunately, his aim wasn't great with the big bandage wrapped around his pinkie finger.”
Ranger went inside to complete the paperwork. When he was done, he joined
Morelli and me in the ER waiting room. Binkie waited outside.
“I don't think Dickie was with Dave,” I said. “Dickie seemed surprised to see Dave. I think Dave and his partner were waiting for me, and they hit the jackpot.”
We all looked over when the waiting-room door slid open and Lula burst in and stormed across the floor, arms waving, hair standing on end.
