Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(61)

“Where was the food truck.”

“A couple blocks down, across from the government buildings.”

“Hard to believe he’d go back there. Have Connie get a home address.”

I called Connie while Ranger drove down State Street. We passed several food trucks but not Arnold’s. We got to the end of the government complex and Connie texted me an address.

“North Trenton,” I said to Ranger. “Lester Street.”

Ranger turned off State, and I called Morelli.

“I’m going to have to cancel dinner,” I said. “Business.”

“Treasure business?” Morelli asked.

“Arnold Rugalowski business. He’s the Cluck-in-a-Bucket cook who fed fried roaches to his ex-wife. He’s FTA.”

“Do you have someone watching your back? Word on the street is that Shine brought in more reinforcements and they aren’t nice guys.”

“I’m covered. I’ll call later to reschedule.”

I disconnected and Ranger glanced over at me. “I don’t care about the Honda or my Porsche,” he said, “but I’m starting to worry about your car karma.”

“My bad car karma is the tip of the iceberg.”



* * *




Lester Street is a slightly shabby street in a perfectly respectable section of North Trenton. The tiny front lawns are neglected. The paint has faded and has begun to peel on many of the houses. The cars in front of the houses are splotched with Bondo and rust patches. With the exception of the car in front of 207 Lester. The car in front of 207 Lester was a grossly ugly food truck.

“This is it,” I said to Ranger.

He idled alongside the truck and read the writing that was almost hidden behind graffiti.

“Chicken Nuts and Bull Balls?”

“His specialty,” I said.

Ranger parked, and we went to Arnold’s door and rang the bell.

The door was wrenched open, and Arnold glared out at us. “What?”

I showed Arnold my fake badge. “Bond enforcement.”

Arnold stood half a head taller than Ranger, had him outweighed by about a hundred pounds, and was holding an eight-inch chef’s knife. He was wearing a sleeveless gray T-shirt and gray sweatpants, and he looked like Sasquatch on a bad hair day.

“Get lost,” Arnold said. “Go away or I’ll gut you like a fish.”

Ranger told Arnold to put the knife down, Arnold lunged at Ranger, and Ranger stepped aside and tagged Arnold with a stun gun. Arnold dropped the knife and looked a little confused, but he didn’t go down.

“Your turn,” Ranger said to me. “Go for it.”

I didn’t have any weapons, so I kicked Arnold in the knee.

“Ow,” Arnold said. “Now I’m going to have to kill you.”

Ranger stomped on Arnold’s sneakered foot, and when Arnold looked down, Ranger sucker-punched him with an uppercut that snapped his head back. Arnold shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and Ranger cuffed him.

“Nice move with the foot stomp and uppercut,” I said to Ranger.

“Classic Three Stooges,” Ranger said. “I learn from the best of them.”

Ranger tugged Arnold toward the door, and Arnold sat down on the floor.

“I’m not going,” Arnold said. “You can’t make me.”

Ranger raised the charge on his stun gun, pressed it against Arnold’s neck, and Arnold flopped onto his back.

“You reached a couple neurons on that one,” I said to Ranger.

“I gave him enough volts to take down an elephant. Grab a foot.”

We dragged Arnold out of the house and wrangled him into the rear cargo space of the fleet SUV, then Ranger secured Arnold’s ankles with shackles that were bolted to the floor.

By the time we got to the police station Arnold was on a rant, thrashing around as best he could, moaning and yelling obscenities. Ranger didn’t seem to notice. I had the beginnings of a headache.

Half an hour later, Ranger and I were back in the SUV, and I had my body receipt tucked into my bag.

“Now what?” Ranger asked.

“Home. This has been a long day. Long enough to feel like it’s been four or five days.”

The sun was low in the sky when Ranger drove into my building’s parking lot. He paused at the back of the lot and looked at the cars already parked.

“You know most of the tenants here,” he said. “Does anyone drive a black Escalade?”

“No.”

“There’s an Escalade a couple rows in front of us. It looks like there are two men in it. One might be texting.”

“And you think they’re waiting for me?”

“I think they’re waiting for someone. There are several options. I can go up to them and ask if they’re waiting for you. I can walk you to your door and deal with them on my way out. Or you can come home with me.”

“I’m going to pass on all those options, and have you drop me at my parents’ house. I can’t keep destroying your cars and having you do my job for me. And as much as I love sleeping with you, I can’t keep doing that, either. Your life path is clear to you. I need to find some clarity about mine.”

“Understood,” Ranger said, “but I’m going to keep you under GPS surveillance. You’re a walking disaster, and you’re my only source of fun.”