Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(25)

“I don’t like the way it smells here,” Lula said. “I’ve smelled this smell before.”

“I’ve never smelled it, but I don’t like it,” Potts said. “It’s unpleasant.”

I tried the doorknob and it clicked open. “Not locked,” I said.

I pushed the door open and we all stepped inside. One medium-size room with a door leading to the bathroom. Kitchenette lining one side. Small table with two chairs. Queen-size bed against the far wall. Slept in and unmade. Dead woman sprawled on the floor. Probably been dead for a couple of days.

Potts looked at the corpse, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he crashed to the floor.

“He handled that pretty good,” Lula said. “At least he didn’t poop himself. Not yet anyways.”

I called 911 and reported a possible homicide. It looked like the woman had been shot in the chest and the head, so I was pretty sure it wasn’t self-inflicted. We grabbed Potts by his ankles, dragged him into the hall, and shut the door.

“I guess we gotta wait for the police,” Lula said. “I hope this all doesn’t take too long. I’ve got some stuff lined up on my TV. I’ve been binge-watching Game of Thrones. This is my second time around, but I still like it. Not to mention if I stay here much longer, I’m going to throw up.”

Potts opened his eyes. “What?” he said.

“Stay down and relax for a couple of minutes,” I told him. “You fainted.”

“I had the craziest dream while I was out. I thought I saw a dead woman with blood all over. It was horrible.”

I gave Lula the keys to my car. “I’ll stay here, and you can go home. I’ll pick my car up tomorrow. Take Potts with you and drop him at his parents’ house on Porter Street.”

“How will you get home?”

“I have options.”

“I bet,” Lula said. “Probably involve a happy hour. Or at least twenty minutes.” She pulled Potts to his feet and pointed him at the door. “Time to go,” she said. “Auntie Lula is driving.”



* * *




I moved from the second floor to the lobby, where the air was better. Two uniforms arrived and I sent them upstairs. I knew plainclothes would follow. I was hoping it wasn’t Morelli. I gave up a sigh of relief when Tom Schmidt walked in. I went to high school with Tom. He graduated into plainclothes a year after Morelli. He was a good cop. Not as talented as Morelli, but he was honest, and he cared about the law.

“Looks like you’re pulling the night shift,” I said to him.

“Yeah, lucky me. What do we have here?”

“A very dead body in 2B. The name on the mailbox is Alice Smuther. I was looking for a hooker going by Patches. I don’t know what Patches looked like but I’m guessing she’s lying on the floor upstairs.”

“Do you have anything else that’s interesting to tell me?”

“She was servicing Charlie Shine. Do you have anything interesting to tell me?”

“No, but I saw your picture online and you looked real cute jumping out of the hotel window.”

“I didn’t jump. I dropped. Big difference. Huge difference.”

“Did you remove anything from the crime scene? Are your fingerprints all over everything?”

“No. And no. I can leave now, right?”

“Yeah. I know where to find you.”

I went outside and called Ranger. “I need a ride,” I told him. “I’m on Parker Street. Just look for all the squad cars and EMT trucks.”

“This is the homicide that just got called in?”

“Yep. Dead hooker. Close friend of Charlie Shine.”

The line went dead. I hoped that meant he was on his way.

Seven minutes later, Ranger snaked his way through the cluster of cars and trucks in front of the peace symbol building and picked me up.

“Thanks,” I said. “Lula didn’t want to wait for the police, so I loaned her my car.”

“I’m guessing this has something to do with the treasure hunt. Were you able to look around before the police arrived?”

“No. She’d been dead awhile. The smell was really bad. I’m surprised her neighbor didn’t investigate.”

“You don’t go looking for trouble in this neighborhood,” Ranger said. “Tell me about her.”

“I knew Shine liked the ladies, so Lula and I talked to a couple of her hooker friends earlier tonight on Stark Street. They gave us the address.”

Ranger left Parker Street, turning toward the center of the city. “Is it important that you get home tonight?”

“No. Rex has lots of food and fresh water.”



* * *




Ranger owned a stealth office building that was located on a quiet side street in the middle of downtown Trenton. The fa?ade was brick and low-key. A small gold plaque by the impact glass front door had a single word on it. Rangeman. The man at the desk in the modest lobby was armed and dressed in Rangeman black. The interior of the building was high-tech and more secure than the White House. The heart of the operation, the control room, was located on the fifth floor. Ranger’s lair was on the seventh floor. His clients were for the most part wealthy businessmen who for one reason or another needed personalized security services that went beyond the norm.