Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(35)

“Maniacs don’t always have motives,” Lula said. “At least none that make sense. Like maybe the devil told someone to snatch people and leave a shoe behind.”

“Suppose it wasn’t the devil. Suppose it was someone more normal. Why would someone want to take people associated with the management of the deli?”

“That’s a tough one,” Lula said. “And why did they snatch Hal? He wasn’t a manager.”

“Maybe Hal was a mistake.”

“Okay, so who would benefit from having bad things happening at the deli?” Lula asked. “There’s Ernie Sitz, but he’s supposed to be on the moon or something. I don’t see how this would do him any good. Except maybe he would be looking for revenge. Like if he couldn’t have the deli then no one could have it.”

“If that was the motive he could just torch it.”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be as much fun,” Lula said.

I hadn’t thought of this in terms of fun, but I suppose it was as good a motive as any.

“What about the bodies?” I asked. “Where are they?”

“That’s got about a million answers,” Lula said. “They could be on a hook in the deep freeze of a butcher shop. Or they could be in a shallow grave in the Pine Barrens. Or they could be still alive and chained up in someone’s cellar. I don’t think they got thrown in the Delaware, because one of them would have floated up by now.”

I didn’t like any of those answers. I put my head down and forked into the pie.

One of the Rangeman guys took Lula home. I went home with Morelli. Bob danced around us when we entered. Morelli ruffled Bob’s ears and locked the door.

“Now what?” he asked. “Television? Glass of wine? Frozen waffle? Bed?”

“Bed. I just worked my way through half a pudding pie, and I’m done.”

“Only half a pie?”

“Lula ate the other half.”

“Works for me. Bed was my choice too.”

“What do you think happened to Hal?”

“I don’t know. He’s a big guy. He’s strong. He was wearing a sidearm. Whatever happened to him was unexpected. He didn’t feel threatened when he walked out of camera range. It was as if he was going to see someone he knew or someone who couldn’t possibly harm him. The shoe was thrown in three minutes later. It was a fast takedown.”

“Tranquilizer dart?”

“It’s a possibility,” Morelli said.

“Do you think I’m going to be the next one to disappear?”

“No. I’m more worried about Ranger than I am about the manager snatcher.”

With good reason, I thought.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


I HEARD MORELLI moving around the room in the dark. He was getting dressed. I looked at the clock. Five-thirty Saturday morning. He was right on schedule, even though it was a Saturday. Thank God it wasn’t my schedule. I rolled over and snuggled under the quilt.

“Don’t roll over,” he said. “You have to get up.”

“It’s too early,” I said. “I don’t get up before the sun.”

The bedroom light flashed on.

“That was yesterday,” Morelli said, throwing my clothes onto the bed. “You have to leave with me today. I’m dropping you off at Rangeman on my way to work.”

I squinted at him, my eyes not totally adjusted to the light. “What? Why? Are you serious?”

“It’s the deal we made. You’re either with me or with Ranger.”

“Not at five-thirty in the morning!”

“At all hours of the morning. You set yourself up to be a walking target. I get why you did it. But it was a stupid idea.”

“It seemed smart when I thought of it.”

He flipped the quilt off me and pulled me out of bed. “You’re such a cupcake.”

I pushed my hair out of my face and tried to wake up. “I need coffee.”

Morelli grinned at me. “You don’t have any clothes on.”

“It’s all your fault.”

“Yeah, I remember.” He settled his hands at my waist and drew me closer. “Maybe no one would notice if I was ten minutes late this morning.”

“I need more than ten minutes.”

“I don’t,” Morelli said.

It was almost seven o’clock when Morelli turned me over to the armed guard at the front desk of Rangeman. I took the elevator to the fifth-floor control room and made my way to Ranger’s office.

The office was small. A desk and two chairs. A bank of monitors on one wall. No window. Private half bath. No artwork. No photos of family. Walls were white. Chairs were black leather. A MacBook Pro was open on a glass and ebony desk. Ranger was wearing the standard Rangeman uniform of black cargo pants and black long-sleeved, collared shirt with the Rangeman logo on the sleeve. He stood and came over to me when I entered.

“Have you had breakfast?” he asked.

I nodded yes. I’d had a frozen waffle and coffee.

“I could use more coffee,” I said.

“I have morning meetings,” Ranger said. “I’ll be done around nine-thirty.”

“I’m supposed to unlock the deli at ten.”