Page 34 of Dirty Thirty


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“Just that it wasn’t in the car with Dugan when they arrested him.”

“He said he panicked when he ran out of the store. Changed his mind about wanting to rob it and dropped the bag of jewelry on the sidewalk. So far as I know, the bag still hasn’t been found.”

“Do you think Nutsy took it?”

“It’s possible. He was there, but so were a lot of other people. My understanding is that a small crowd had gathered in front of the store when the alarm went off and the police arrived.”

“The plot thickens.”

“Yeah, that’s only the half of it. I have to go. You and Bob are okay, right? No disasters?”

“Why? Did you hear something?”

“Should I have heard something?”

“No. Definitely not. Nothing to hear. We’re great. Bob hasn’t even eaten my couch.”

“Good to know,” Morelli said.

I was waiting outside my building when Ranger pulled his shiny black Porsche 911 Turbo into the lot. I was wearing heels, a black dress with a scoop neck, and a short red jacket over the dress. My hair was brushed out and hung in waves to my shoulders. My lip color was natural and glossy. I didn’t need eye shadow since my eyes were already purple. I thought I looked classy and moderately sexy, as long as you were willing to overlook the fact that I’d been punched in the face.

I slid in next to Ranger, placed my black clutch on my lap, and buckled my seat belt.

“Babe?” Ranger said.

“Yep.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Morelli called.”

“That’s nice, but I don’t care. I’m talking about your face.”

“Farcus Trundle’s girlfriend sucker punched me. Then he smashed his car into mine and they drove away. That’s the short version.”

“This is the same Farcus Trundle who chained Marjorie Katz to a doghouse?”

“Yes.”

“Rangeman runs security on her house. Next time you feel inclined to visit with Farcus, let me know and I’ll tag along.”

“That would be great,” I said. “He’s FTA. Where are we going for dinner?”

“We’re eating at a hotel restaurant in Princeton. The client chose it. He’s in town for two days, talking to his architects and designers.”

“And you.”

“Yes. And me.”

“What’s my purpose?”

“I start my day at five in the morning and I go straight through until Tank takes over the night shift. I like what I do. Almost always. I help to keep people safe. I protect their property. I provide jobs for good people. I’m good at it. It’s rewarding. Dinner with Ralph and Brenda Seward isn’t rewarding or enjoyable. I have dinner with them because this is the way Ralph does business. And I’m doing business with him because I like the project. So, to make this evening tolerable, I’ve invited you. Someday I’ll take the time to figure out why I like you so much, why you amuse me, why you intrigue me, why you’re so desirable. Tonight, I’m just happy you’re here to save me from being alone with the Sewards.”

“Wow. Holy cow.”

That got a rare full-on smile from Ranger. His teeth were white against his dark skin, in the dark car. The smile reached his eyes, where he had a few crinkle lines that I thought were from squinting, not smiling.

“I don’t like that you were hit in the face,” Ranger said, “but it should improve the dinner conversation.”

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