Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(67)

“Your men didn’t check in at any of the clinics or hospitals,” Connie said.

“That’s because they’re dead,” I said. “Shot Shine execution-style and dumped behind the office. I’m there now.”

“A bullet in the head and another in the chest?” Connie asked.

“Yes.”

“You’d think Shine would change it up once in a while.”

“Is your mom home? Did she hear anything helpful?”

“Jimmy’s sister said Shine is in Atlantic City. He comes to Trenton when he has to, but mostly his crew goes to him.”

“Did she say where in Atlantic City?”

“She only knew that he was staying in someone’s home. She said she heard it was one of his buddies from the old days. He was well connected when he was younger, and he had a lot of friends. If you wanted a liquor license or a pizza at three in the morning for your pregnant wife or demanding girlfriend, Shine could make it happen.”

“Start collecting a list of his friends,” I said. “You make the phone calls and give me the names. I’ll run the real estate searches.”

“Do you have those programs?”

“No. I’m on my way home. Send me links to whatever I need.”

I was back in the Buick. If Shine’s henchmen came after me, I’d deal with it. If necessary, I could mow them down. If Gabriela could do it in a Mercedes sports car, I could for sure do it with the Buick.

I had a few butterflies in my stomach when I pulled into my parking lot. That’s okay, I thought. It’s a reminder to be cautious. And it’s good to be cautious. It’s not good to be fearful. Fear isn’t a productive emotion.

I found a parking place close to the back door and three minutes later I was in my apartment with the door locked. Cautious but not afraid, I told myself. My new mantra.

I grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water, took them to the dining room table, and opened my MacBook. I downloaded the search programs from Connie plus three names. I researched the three names and eliminated them. No real estate in Atlantic City. Four more names came in from Connie. I ran them through the system. Nothing.

It was nine o’clock at night when I received the last batch of names from Connie. It was as if she’d downloaded the entire Trenton phone book and sent it to me. Out of all those names, I found two with Atlantic City residences. In both cases they were second residences. One was a condo in a low-rise building. The other was a modest house in Pleasantville. I’d take a road trip in the morning.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


I opened the door to my apartment and Potts tumbled in.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was sitting with my back to your door, and I guess I fell asleep.”

“It’s eight thirty in the morning. How long have you been out here?”

“Not that long,” he said. “An hour maybe.” He got to his feet. “Where are you going? Are you going to the office?”

“Briefly. I need to see if Connie has anything new for me, and then I’m going to check out a couple of addresses.”

I locked my door and took the stairs to the lobby with Potts tagging along. I had my gun tucked into my messenger bag, but it wasn’t loaded. I didn’t have any ammo. Probably I could get some from Connie. Just in case.

Connie was at her desk and Lula was texting when I walked in with Potts.

“I got two possible addresses from your list,” I said to Connie. “I’m going to check them out this morning.”

“Me, too,” Potts said.

“Me, too,” Lula said. “Where are we going?”

“Atlantic City,” I said.

“I’m all about Atlantic City,” Lula said. “Maybe we should bring Grandma with us. She’s like my lucky charm. You got Grandma behind you at a craps table and you can’t lose.”

“We aren’t going to a casino,” I said. “I’m checking out two residences.”

“Yeah, but after that we might need something to eat and we could at least do some slots. I mean, we’re going all that way,” Lula said. “I’ll call Grandma and see if she’s up for it.”

I handed my gun over to Connie. “Do you have any bullets that fit this?” I asked. “I thought I should start carrying it. Just in case.”

“Just in case is a good possibility,” Connie said.

She went to the storeroom and returned with a box of rounds. She loaded my .38, spun the cylinder, and handed it back to me.

“Grandma’s not answering her phone,” Lula said.

I called my mother. No answer there, either. There were hundreds of reasons why they weren’t answering their phone, but the worst stuck in my mind.

“We can stop at the house on our way out of town,” I said.

I parked in my parents’ driveway and noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. I hit the ground running and entered the house with my gun in hand. I stopped in the foyer and listened. Silence. I cautiously walked through the living room and dining room, and into the kitchen. One of the chairs by the kitchen table was overturned, and the cast-iron fry pan was on the floor. I ran upstairs and looked in the bedrooms and the bathroom. They had all been searched. Drawers were open. Clothes were dumped on the floor. The keys were missing from Grandma’s underwear drawer. The ring was still there, in its box. They didn’t know to take the ring.