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Lula got out and sat in back with Bob, and Diggery got in next to me.
“This is a nice car,” he said. “You must have come into money too.”
“Tell me about the money,” I said.
“It’s business related,” Diggery said. “I can’t talk about it because I’m officially retired.”
I called Connie, she met us at the municipal building, and an hour later, Diggery was rescheduled, and we were on our way back to his trailer. I stopped at the liquor store on Broad so Lula could get him some whiskey.
“Don’t drink this bottle all at once and crash another funeral,” I said to Diggery.
“I didn’t crash the funeral,” he said. “I was taking an early morning stroll and I saw they had the canopy up for the funeral and thought it would be a good place for a nap. I had a couple nips from my flask, and I was half-asleep when these people came rushing at me. I panicked and mistook the hearse for my pickup and accidentally ran off the car path.”
“So, the translation is that you were out all night looking for agrave to rob. You got drunk and passed out at the Wimmer grave site, and when the funeral director tried to remove you, you got into the first vehicle you saw, and it happened to be the hearse.”
“I guess that could be another interpretation of events,” Diggery said.
“I might have a job for you. I need to find a body.”
“A dead body?”
“Yep.”
“I’m your man.”
“I’m looking for a homeless guy who goes by the name of Stump. He was shot multiple times four weeks ago. Average height. Frizzy gray hair. Had a spider tattoo on his hand. Got dumped somewhere.”
“That’s a tough one. Where was he shot?”
“King Street. At night. Behind Plover’s jewelry store.”
“That gives me some ideas. If the shooter decided to drive the body out of town I’m lost. If he wanted a quick shallow grave, I know some spots. Problem is Stump’s gonna be pretty decayed after a month. The hand with the tattoo might be eaten away by now. Ideally, I need something metal to look for. The bigger the better.”
“Understood. I’ll get back to you on it.”
I met Ranger at four o’clock and we cruised the downtown area.
“It’s been a month since Stump was shot,” Ranger said. “If Marcus is still in Trenton, he might be feeling safe enough to come out of hiding. We have some contacts in the homeless community. I have one of my men talking to them.”
We rode around for a half hour and Ranger got a call.
“We have a lead,” he said. “Marcus surfaced a couple days ago. My man hasn’t seen him, but his source said Marcus is hanging between the Catholic church on French Street and the train station.”
“If he’s back to panhandling, this is a good time to look for him. It’s rush hour for the commuters. Prime time for beggars.”
Ranger left the downtown area, drove to the train station, and parked.
We all got out and walked toward the station. We didn’t see anyone who fit Marcus’s description. There was a scrawny guy selling roses. Beyond him there were a couple hookers. They didn’t know Marcus, but Ranger was offered a freebie. We crossed the street and saw a guy standing on the corner. He looked desperate and down on his luck and he had a piece of torn cardboard that he was using as a sign. He was slim and weathered, and he had a ponytail.
We walked toward him, all casual. A man and a woman and a goofy big dog. We stopped and read the sign.NEED WORK. HELP A VET. GOD BLESS.The hand holding the sign had a spider tattoo.
I smiled at him. Friendly. “Marcus?”
He looked at me, and then he looked at Ranger and you could see the alarm bells going off in his head. He dropped his sign, grabbed a woman standing behind him, waiting for the light to change, shoved her at Ranger, and took off into traffic. Ranger moved the woman aside and ran after Marcus, dodging cars that were screeching to a stop and swerving to avoid an accident. Bob yanked the leash out of my hand and ran after Ranger. I ran after Bob. Marcus was clearly no match for Ranger. Ranger is in prime shape and fast. He was within two feet of Marcuswhen Bob launched himself into the air and planted his two front feet on Ranger’s back. Ranger hit the pavement with Bob on top of him.
When I got to Ranger he was on his back with Bob looking all happy at his side.
“Omigod,” I said. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
