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I looked across the street at the Rangeman car. Now I had Rangeman, Sir Lancelot, Benji, and Beedle working as security. Why didn’t I feel safe?
It was five o’clock when Connie got back to the office.
“Sorry I’m so late. I almost didn’t get him out today,” she said. “He was last up. The judge wanted to go home, but Steven’s mother started crying. Bawling her eyes out. When the judge reconsidered and set bail, Steven’s mother turned and winked at me. I bet she’s a hell of a Realtor.”
“We didn’t mind staying,” Lula said. “It’s real comfy in herenow. It’s nicer than my apartment except it doesn’t have a bed and TV.”
“Anything new?” Connie asked, sitting at her desk, pulling up the email.
“Nope,” Lula said. “I checked about an hour ago. There was a threatening email from Vinnie’s bookie, but I deleted it.”
“I don’t see anything that can’t wait,” Connie said. “I’m closing up. Mom’s making an early dinner tonight.”
“She going to bingo or a viewing?” Lula asked.
“Viewing,” Connie said. “Marion Foscatelli. Pancreatic cancer.”
“That’s a nasty one,” Lula said.
We closed the office and I drove home with Rangeman close behind. I parked in my lot and took a moment to look around. I didn’t see anyone hiding behind a car, waiting to jump me. I walked to the building and thought this was the tricky part. The Rangeman guy was in the parking lot. No telling who was in the building. I took Ranger’s gun out of my messenger bag and decided the stairs were the safest way to go. I reached the second floor and found Sir Lancelot in full costume standing watch at my door with his new sword at his side.
“Carpenter wanted to make sure you got into your apartment without getting kidnapped,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be okay now.”
“If you want to go out you can call us.”
“Good to know. I hear you got married.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Who would have thought? And she likes going to Renaissance fairs.”
“That’s great. Congratulations.” I unlocked my door andstepped inside. “Have a nice night and thanks for looking after me.”
“No problem. Make sure you lock your door.”
When you’re in a situation like this a safe haven can feel a little like a prison. Still, it was better than the alternative, which could have been a dark room with a chemical toilet and getting burned with a fire starter.
I was eating cereal out of the box when Morelli called.
“I saw a car parked in front of the bail bonds office today. I’m afraid to ask if it’s yours,” he said.
“What kind of car was it?”
“I don’t know. The front looked like a Toyota, but the back looked like spare parts held together with Bondo.”
“Yep. That’s mine.”
“Aside from the bargain car purchase, how did your day go?”
“It could have been worse. I brought Steven Plover in. That was my highlight.”
“He stole the fire truck, right?”
“Borrowed it. He wanted to take a girl for a ride. He said he might have been a little high.”
“That’s one of the better reasons to borrow a fire truck. Are you locked in for the night?”
“Yes. And I’ve got a Rangeman car in my parking lot. It follows me everywhere. I need to reinvent my life. I can’t keep living like this. Do you think it would help if I got a different job?”
