Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(21)

“If I had to take a guess I’d say you bumped into Virgil on your way out of the 7-Eleven, and he ran across the road trying to get away.”

“Your guess would be right.”

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie said.

“It feels like my fault.”

“He chose to run. You didn’t make him run into the street, did you?”

I blew out a sigh. I knew Eddie was right, but I still felt bad.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t make him run into the street, but I was a catalyst. It’s like I’m always there when disaster happens.”

“I hear you,” Eddie said. “You think you’re in a lousy spot? You should have my job.”

“How do you manage?”

“I walk the dog, and I think about my retirement pension.”

I helped myself to one of the corn chips and scooped up some cheese goo. “There has to be more.”

“For as long as I could remember I wanted to be a cop. It’s not exactly the way I thought it would be, but I think I’m a good cop. And sometimes I get to help people. And it’s never boring. The ‘never boring’ is important because I have a short attention span. I’m ADD.”

As were his kids and his dog.

“I suppose I have to talk to someone,” I said.

Eddie looked back at the knot of people around Virgil. “I think Manny Rogezzi has this. You remember Manny? He was a year ahead of you in high school. He married Marilyn Fugg.” He finished the nachos and handed the empty container back to me. “Stay here and I’ll send him over.”

After what seemed like an eternity Manny made his way through the crowd to where I was standing.

“How is he?” I asked. “He was killed, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. From the tire tracks on him I’d say he was killed at least three times. Did you see him run into the road?”

“I was coming out of the store and I bumped into him. He panicked and ran. I don’t think there was any way the cars could have avoided hitting him.” I gave an involuntary shudder at the memory. “He was FTA.”

“He was more than FTA,” Manny said. “I heard he was driving the Bogart ice cream truck with the frozen Bogart Bar guy inside. At least, he was driving it until you and your sidekick got hold of it.”

“I think he must have come across the truck abandoned, or maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment hijacking. He for sure wasn’t a Bogart employee. It’s unfortunate that he’s dead, because he would have been able to fill in some blanks on the murder.”

Manny cracked a smile. “Did you really total Gazarra’s squad car?”

“Lula misjudged the brakes on the truck.”

Manny gave a bark of laughter. “Life is good.” He cut his eyes back to the road. “Sometimes. Sometimes not so good.”

“Anything else?”

“No. I’ll send you an accident report to verify.”

“And I’ll need a body receipt so Vinnie can collect his bond.”

“I’ll leave it at the back desk,” Manny said. “Give me a day. This is going to be a lot of paperwork.”





TEN


IT WAS A little after six o’clock when I got home. Morelli and Bob were already in my apartment. The table was set for two, and the kitchen smelled like Morelli’s mother had been cooking in it.

“Have you been here long?” I asked him.

“Nope. Just got here. I’ve got my mom’s lasagna in the oven, and there’s bread from the bakery.”

I was so relieved I almost burst into tears. I wrapped my arms around Morelli and relaxed into him. He was warm and solid and comforting. Bob jumped off the couch and nosed his way in between us.

“Bad day?” Morelli asked.

“The worst. The ice cream plant people are really nice, but I’m all wrong for the job. And then after work I stopped at 7-Eleven and ran into Larry Virgil.”

“I heard,” Morelli said. “Eddie called me. He said you were shook up.”

“I saw him get hit. I can still hear the sound. It was horrible. And then a bunch of cars ran over him.”

Morelli wrapped his arms around me. “It’s not your fault.”

“That’s what Eddie said.”

“In the interest of mental health I’m suggesting you move on to something more positive . . . like sex or lasagna.”

“Lasagna!”

“I knew I shouldn’t have given you a choice.”

I went to the fridge, grabbed two bottles of beer, and gave one to Morelli. “Anything new on the Bogart Bar man?”

“The truck was stolen at nine o’clock Monday night. It’s unlikely the human resources man was on the truck at that time. And it’s unlikely that the crime was committed at the plant. Everything indicates the HR man was killed, frozen, and coated in chocolate off-site.”

“Could Virgil have been the killer?”

“Hard to believe. Probably Virgil happened on the truck and hijacked it. Thought it was his lucky day.”

“Someone went to a lot of trouble to make Arnold Zigler into a Bogart Bar.”

“Yeah. It showed motivation.”

Morelli pulled the lasagna out of the oven and brought it to the table. I poured dog kibble into a bowl for Bob, and brought over the bread and two more bottles of beer.