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“Okay,” she answered from somewhere in the house. “Have a nice day.”
We got to the sidewalk. Ranger stowed Trotter in the backseat of the Porsche and opened the passenger-side door for me.
“I’m going to make a mess of your car,” I said.
“Not a problem.”
* * *
Ranger pulled up to the back of the police station and marched Trotter inside while I waited in the car. Ten minutes later, Ranger slid behind the wheel and handed me my body receipt.
“Do you want to come back to Rangeman and have me scrub you down?” he asked. “Or would you rather I take you home?”
“Home.”
I needed to regroup. And there was a good chance that I wouldn’t be able to get all of the enhancement gunk out of my hair and I would have to visit Salon Philip at the mall. Philip was a genius at cut and color. Hopefully he was also a genius at gunk removal.
Ranger left the police lot and joined the flow of morning traffic. “I talked to Rodriguez while I was in the police station,” Ranger said. “He followed every offshoot and found three exits. The Mole Hole, the Margo, and the bakery. The fourth exit was cemented closed. Probably happened when Bobby Ragucci sold his property. Rodriguez said there’s nothing down there but dirt and rats, but there might have been another tunnel near the Margo. There was a lot of debris and possibly a cave-in at one point. Beyond that there’s no secret hideaway where there might be a safe.”
“Grandma’s going to be disappointed.”
“Why is this treasure so important to her?”
“She has a bucket list.”
Ranger stopped for a light and looked at me. “How about you? What’s in your bucket list?”
I was stumped. I didn’t have a bucket list. My bucket was empty. “I haven’t gotten around to making a bucket list,” I said. “Do you think that’s a personal failure?”
“No. You’re busy living every day. That’s a personal triumph.”
“It doesn’t feel like a triumph. It feels like I’m moving through my life with no important goals or aspirations.”
“What do you consider to be an important goal?”
“Being a doctor or a vulcanologist or a marine biologist or finding the Ark of the Covenant.”
Ranger glanced over at me. “Is the La-Z-Boys’ treasure your Ark of the Covenant?”
“Maybe not the equivalent of the Ark of the Covenant, but it would be moving in the right direction.”
“One more reason why you need to find it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ranger drove into the lot to my apartment building and stopped alongside a black Honda Passport.
“This is yours,” he said. “It should be unlocked. The key fob is in the gun box under the passenger seat.” He handed me a key. “This is for the gun box. The SUV has the usual tracking device plus a rear camera that allows us to see if you’re being followed.”
I got out, unlocked the gun box, and got the key fob. I locked the car and waved Ranger off. I went straight to my apartment, said a fast hello to Rex, shucked my clothes, and jumped into the shower. Twenty minutes later I was in the Honda Passport with a towel wrapped around my head, and I was on my way to Salon Philip. I called Connie from the road and told her I captured Rodney Trotter, but had a slight apprehension mishap, and was now booked into an immediate emergency appointment at the hair salon.
“I have my own emergency,” Connie said. “Potts is on the couch. And he’s humming. I’m going to put him in an Uber and send him to you.”
“No! No, no, no, no.”
Too late. Connie was already disconnected.
I reached Route 1 and took the exit to Quaker Bridge Mall. I parked by Macy’s and walked through the mall with as much dignity as I could muster considering I had a towel wrapped around my head.
