Caine's glass. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
'What's your angle?"
“No angle,” Ranger said. "Like I told you, I'm looking to retain counsel and I like the firm.
I'm just having a hard time finding someone to talk to. No one's answering the phone.“ ”Do you have something to… barter?"
“You want to stay away from Jimmy Monster. He's wearing a wire.”
“Ow.”
“And?” Ranger said.
"I'm meeting Victor Gorvich tonight. He has a package for me. We used to make the drop
at a warehouse, but the warehouse burned down, so I'm seeing him at ten at Domino's.“ ”The strip club on Third Street?"
“That's the one. Just make sure my business is concluded before you move in.” Ranger stood. “Be careful,” he said to Rufus.
“Fuck that,” Rufus said.
We were a couple blocks away from the apartment building when my cell phone rang. “I can't talk long,” Morelli said. "I just wanted to pass some information on to you. The guy
in the warehouse was identified by his wedding band and key ring. It was Peter Smullen.“ ”Holy crap.
“The guy in the warehouse was Peter Smullen,” I said to Ranger.
'Who are you talking to?" Morelli asked.
“Ranger.”
“You're with Ranger?”
“You told him to take care of me.”
“Yeah, but I didn't mean-”
“I'm getting static,” I said to Morelli. “Hello? Hello?” And I disconnected. "He needed a
moment to collect himself," I said to Ranger.
“Understandable.”
“Let's recap,” I said to Ranger. "First the law firm's accountant goes swimming with the
fishes. Then Dickie gets dragged out of his house. And now Peter Smullen is dead." My cell phone rang again.
“We got cut off,” Morelli said.
“Cell phones,” I said. “Go figure.”
"I wanted to tell you Marty Gobel might want to talk to you again. Smullen s secretary said
Smullen was supposed to meet with you the night he disappeared."
“Are you suggesting I might be under suspicion for Smullen's murder?”
“You have an alibi, right?”
I hung up and slouched in my seat. "Smullen s secretary told the police I was supposed to
meet with Smullen the night he disappeared."
Ranger hooked a U-turn on Broad. "Lets see what Smullen s girlfriend has to say about all
this."
We passed Joyce, who was now going in the wrong direction in her rented white Taurus. “I used to be such a badass,” Ranger said. "Everyone was afraid of me. Everyone wanted to
kill me. I needed Tank walking behind me to keep the paid assassins under control. And now
look at me. I'm followed by a woman in a rented Taurus." He made a vague gesture with his
hand. “And I can't remember the last time someone tried to kill me.”
“It wasn't that long ago,” I said. "It was in my apartment, and you got shot a bunch of times,
and it wasn't all that much fun.
"Not to change the subject, but if I understood the conversation back there, Victor Gorvich
is supplying Rufus with drugs."
Ranger turned off Broad and drove toward the projects. "Not only is he supplying drugs,
he's laundering the money through the firm. He's billing Rufus for legal advice when Rufus is
actually paying him for inventory. If you look at the client list you lifted, it's a shopping cart
filled with the World s Most Wanted. Not just drug dealers, but gunrunners and agents for
dictators. One or more of the partners is shuffling drugs around and washing the money as
billable hours."
“Gorvich, for sure.”
“Looks that way.”
Ranger parked curbside at the law firms slum apartment building, and we both got out.
Ranger took a remote gizmo, aimed it at the Porsche, and the Porsche chirped. We hoofed it up to the top floor and rang the bell. No answer. We rang it again, and Uncle
Mickey stuck his head out his door.
“She isn't there,” Uncle Mickey said. “She went shopping.” He looked at Ranger and
retreated into his apartment.
Ranger took his little tool out of a pocket on his cargo pants and opened the apartment
door.
Smullen s apartment had been freshly painted and carpeted. The furniture was new. The
kitchen appliances were new. The countertop was Corian. The building was a slum, but
Smullens apartment was not. Smullens toilet worked.
Smullen s clothes were hanging in the closet and neatly folded in bureau drawers. His
toiletries were still in the bathroom. I checked pants pockets for the bug, but didn't find it. I walked out of the bedroom and caught Ranger at the living room window, looking down.
He was standing hands on hips, watching two men direct a flatbed tow truck up to the
Porsche. His car alarm was wailing away, and the men were ignoring it.
Ranger unlocked and raised the window, unholstered his gun, took aim, and shot one of the
men in the leg. The guy crumpled onto the pavement and rolled around, holding his leg. The
flatbed driver jumped out and helped drag the wounded guy into the truck, and they drove
away. Ranger aimed his gizmo at his car and silenced the alarm.
“Do you feel better now?” I asked. “You got to shoot someone today.”
“I've still got the touch,” Ranger said.
"Smullen's clothes are here, but I didn't find the bug. Did you come up with anything
interesting?"
“No. He doesn't have a home office. Not even a laptop squirreled away somewhere.” The lock tumbled on the front door, and Smullen s girlfriend pushed into the apartment.
She had a brown grocery bag in the crook of her arm, and she was out of breath from the
stairs.
“What the fuck is this?” she said to Ranger and me.
“We came to visit, but you weren't home,” I said to her.
She cut her eyes to Ranger. “Who s the hot guy? Is he a cop?”
“No. He's Ranger.”
‹cWhy s he dressed like a cop? What is this, Halloween and no one told me?“ I glanced back at Ranger. ”You aren't going to shoot her, are you?"
“Thinking about it.”
“Was Peter involved in anything shady at work?” I asked her.
“Sure. He was a lawyer.”
“I mean really shady. Like illegal. Trafficking in drugs, for instance.”
She set the bag on the kitchen counter. "I don't think so. Why would he do something like
that? He was making a fortune just being a lawyer."
“Did he have another office somewhere? I noticed he doesn't have a home office here.” "He works at the law office. What's the deal, anyway? I'm calling the cops. You jerk-offs
broke into my apartment. Hey, wait a minute. You aren't going to kidnap me, are you?
Omigod, you've got Peter, right? That's why he hasn't come home. You've got Peter! Help!"
she yelled. “Help! Police!”
“Go ahead,” I said to Ranger. “Shoot her.”
“We aren't going to kidnap you,” Ranger said. "And we didn't kidnap Peter Smullen. In
fact, we have some very bad news for you."
“Help!” she yelled. “Help! Help!”
Ranger looked at me. “You have any ideas besides shoot her?”
“I love your boots,” I said to her. “Vuitton, right?”
She looked down at the boots. Knee-high, black leather, stacked heel. “Yeah,” she said.
“They cost a fortune, but I had to have them. I got a bag to match. You want to see the bag?” “Sure.”
She went into the bedroom and came back with the bag. “This
is the shit, right?” she said. “It looks great on you. You can carry a big bag like that,” I told her. "It's a to-die-for bag.
And speaking of dying… Peter Smullen is dead."
“Waddaya mean, he's dead?”
“He was caught in a fire in a warehouse last night and he died. I'm so sorry,” I told her. “How do you know?”
"It was made public this morning/'
She was deer-in-the-headlights for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“He was identified by his wedding band and his key ring.”
"Sonovabitch. All that money and I was so close to getting my hands on it, and the jackass
had to get himself toasted in a fucking warehouse. Life is so unfair." Her eyes darted around
the room. “This apartment belongs to the law firm,” she said. "I need a truck! Do you have a
truck?"
“No.”
“We'll have to rent one.”
“Uh, actually, we have to be moving along,” I said. “Like to stay, but…” Ranger was at the door.
“Uncle Mickey lives across the hall,” I told her. “He can get you a truck.” I followed Ranger down the stairs and out of the building. I was about to get into the
Porsche when I spotted Joyce half a block away.
“Be right back,” I said to Ranger.
I jogged down to Joyce and leaned in her car window. “Peter Smullen is dead,” I said. "He
was killed in a warehouse fire last night. His girlfriend lives in that building we just left. She's
on the top floor. We couldn't get any information out of her, but you might want to try.“ ”Are you shitting me?"
“No. Swear to God.” I jogged back to Ranger and slid into the passenger seat. "I think I got
rid of Joyce for a while."
TWELVE
Ranger and I were in his den watching a basketball game.
“Hows your leg?” he asked.
“It's a little sore.”
"I need to leave for Domino's. Do you want to come with me or would you rather stay
here?"
“I'll go with you.”
He looked at my V-neck sweater with the RangeMan logo embroidered in purple. "Do you
have something to wear that doesn't say RangeMan?"
“No. Even my underwear has your name on it.”
"It's Ella. She got a machine that stitches the logo, and she can't control herself. She puts it
on everything.“ He stood. ”I'm going to change. I'll be ready to go in a minute."
I'd been to Domino's once before. Lula and I made an apprehension there last spring. It was a typical titty bar with a raised stage and pole dancers. I was told it had a back room for lap dances, but Lula and I didn't get back there. Our man was at the bar, stuffing money into Gstrings.
Ranger had changed into black jeans and a long-sleeved, collared black shirt that he wore out to hide his gun.
“Do you have money for the girls?” I asked him.
“I try not to hand money out at strip bars. Its like feeding stray cats. Once you feed them, they never go away.”
“Yes, but I'll be there to protect you this time.”
Ranger held my jacket for me. “I usually rely on Tank, but tonight the job is yours.”
We took the elevator to the garage, and Ranger chose a black Explorer over one of his private cars. Easier to blend. Domino's was just ten minutes away from Range-Man. For that matter, everything was ten minutes from RangeMan. Ranger had placed his security company in a good location. If an alarm went off anywhere in Trenton, RangeMan was there in ten minutes or less.
On weekends, Domino's rocked. It was filled to capacity with bachelor parties and couples out for fun. On a Monday night, it was half empty, and there was no problem getting a table. Ranger steered us to a dark corner where he could put his back to the wall. Most of the men were at the bar that surrounded the dance platform. A bunch of sad regulars and some out-oftown businessmen who'd straggled in from the hotels on Route One. Tonight, I was the only woman.
The music was loud. Disco. The two women onstage were in four-inch stilettos and dental floss. They looked like they wouldn't mind getting out of the shoes.
A waitress stopped by, all smiley face. “Hey handsome,” she said to Ranger. “What'U it be?”
“Vodka rocks,” Ranger said. “Two of them.”
I raised an eyebrow at him when the waitress left. “You drink vodka rocks?”
“Less to dump on the floor,” he said.
We didn't want to make an entrance and have Gorvich spot us, so we'd arrived early. The disadvantage to this soon became apparent. Ranger was a bimbo magnet.
The dancers finished their set, and one immediately strolled over to our table and straddled Ranger.
“Want a private party?” she asked.
“Not tonight,” Ranger said. He handed her a twenty, and she left.
“What about the cat-feeding theory?” I asked him.
“Out the window.”
Our drinks were delivered and a new dancer popped up in front of Ranger. “Hey sweetie,” she said. “How's it going?” And before Ranger had a chance to answer, she had her huge breasts in his face and her leg over his lap.
“Not tonight,” Ranger said. He handed her a twenty, and she left.
“I'm seeing a pattern here,” I said to Ranger. “How often do you come here?”
“Too often. I thought you were going to run interference.” “It’s like they come out of nowhere. Before I know it, they're on top of you.”
A woman in rhinestone pasties and a rhinestone G-string stopped by, and Ranger handed her a twenty before she got her leg over him.
“You could go through a lot of money fast this way,” I said to Ranger.
“All for you, babe. Small price to pay to keep you out of jail.”
He dumped his vodka onto the floor behind him. The waitress swooped in, took his glass, and gave him a fresh vodka.
Rufus rolled in at five minutes to ten. He took a seat at a table by the bar and ordered a drink. One of the girls approached him and was allowed to do her thing. Guess the room in the back was closed on Monday, and the action came out front.
Ranger and I watched her gyrate and bounce and rub against Rufus.
“I know men like this sort of thing,” I said to Ranger, “but personally, I prefer a shoe sale at Macy s. On the plus side, we'll be in good shape if we have to follow him. She's shedding so much body glitter, he's going to glow in the dark.”
The dancer slithered up Rufus, and his entire face got smushed into her breasts.
“She's going to kill him,” I said to Ranger. “He's going to suffocate. Do something.”
“He's okay. His color still looks good,” Ranger said.
“His color is terrible. He's purple.”
“Its the lights.”
“Do men have… you know, reactions to this rubbing and writhing stuff in public?” I asked Ranger.
“I guess, but this is the first time I've seen someone turn purple.”
At ten after ten, the big blond muscle guy with the stapled nuts came into the bar and sat across from Rufus. He said something to the dancer, and she abruptly got up and left. Rufus called for the check and finished his drink. He paid his bill and left with the muscle guy.
“Give them time to get out of the building,” Ranger said. “We don't want to ruin this by getting recognized.”
“Aren't you afraid of losing them?”
“Tank is in the lot, and Hal is on the street.”
Ranger took a call from Tank.
“They're moving,” Ranger said, snapping his phone closed.
He signaled the waitress and dropped a hundred dollars on the table. We left the club and followed Tank's directions through town. We turned into the projects, and I guessed where we were headed. The law firm's apartment building.