Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(41)

“It was unlocked and empty,” Ranger said.

This was true. Ranger had unlocked it. “There are nine shoes,” Ranger said. “We only know about six kidnappings.”

Morelli looked happy to hear this. Truth is, Morelli loved his job. He wasn’t happy about the blood and gore, but he loved the mystery. He loved the procedure. He loved solving the crime.

“The crime scene people are on their way,” Morelli said. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“No,” Ranger said. “It’s clean. It’s almost as if this was staged.”

I was so tired I was swaying.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re going to have to take her home with you,” Morelli said to Ranger. “I’m going to be here for hours, and she’s not going to last.”

“No problem,” Ranger said. “Let me know when you want her back.”

Ranger’s bedroom is cool and dark, dimly lit by ambient light coming from his office. His thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets are smooth and silky. His pillows are lump-free and perfect. The lightweight quilt is luxuriously soft. I was wearing panties and one of his T-shirts, and I was in my happy place. I was safe and secure in his bed. And I was alone. Ranger was in his office, catching up on work, recognizing that a romantic encounter with me at this time would be like making love to a dead person.

At some point during the night I woke up and felt Ranger next to me. He was warm, and there was the faint scent of his Bulgari Green shower gel. I fell back asleep, and when I woke up again it was morning, and he was gone.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


I SHOWERED AND dressed in clean clothes that Ella had left for me. A Rangeman black T-shirt and cargo pants that were in my size. There was hot coffee, fresh fruit, and croissants in the small kitchen. No sign of Ranger. When you own your own security business and live on the premises, every day is a work day.

Morelli called at nine-thirty to tell me he was in the lobby. I took the elevator down and texted Ranger that I was leaving.

“What’s the plan for the day?” I asked when I was settled into Morelli’s SUV.

“Grocery shopping. Pick up Grandma Bella and drop her off at the church for potluck brunch. She’s bringing lasagna and a cake.”

This sent a chill down my spine. Grandma Bella scared the heck out of me.

“Maybe you could leave me home when you get Bella,” I said. “Give me a loaded gun and lock all the doors when you leave. I’ll be fine.”

“No.”

“She scares me.”

“She scares everybody,” Morelli said. “It’s her thing.”

“Can we go out to lunch after we drop Bella off?”

“Yeah. As long as we’re home in time for the game.”

Shopping with Morelli is a whole different experience from shopping with Ranger. Morelli shops for a few staples for the week and for game food. Chips, dip, beer, M& M’s, hot spicy wings, pepperoni pizza rolls.

“That’s a lot of snacks,” I said.

“Anthony, Big Wanger, and Mooch always come over for the Giants’ game. It’s tradition.”

So here are some of the reasons I’m not married to Morelli. His job. His family. His friends. And the remaining reason is my inability to commit. The reason I’m not married to Ranger is much simpler. His life path doesn’t include marriage. End of story.

We took the groceries back to Morelli’s house, let Bob out to tinkle, and picked up Grandma Bella.

Grandma Bella squinted at me from the back seat. “What she doing here?” she said to Morelli.

“We’re spending the afternoon together,” Morelli said.

“You could do better,” Bella said. “I don’t like this one. I might give her the eye.”

“You give her the eye, and I’ll tell my mother on you.”

“I’ll give her the eye too.”

“You can’t give the eye to your daughter,” Morelli said.

“I do what I want,” Bella said.

Morelli was smiling. He thought this was amusing. He was the only one who was never threatened with the eye. He was Bella’s favorite.

“What kind of cake are you bringing?” Morelli asked Bella.

“Chocolate. If you come to church you get some.”

“I’ll have to see how the day goes,” Morelli said.

“You going to hell,” Bella said. “You never go to church, and you got this slut in your car. Her grandma cheats at bingo. God don’t like bingo cheats and sluts.”

Morelli pulled up to the church and helped Bella into the building. She carried the cake, and he carried the fifteen-pound lasagna. He walked back to the car and got behind the wheel.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said.

“She called me a slut.”

“You made out better than I did. She said I was going to hell.”

“Are you worried?” I asked him.

“Maybe a little,” Morelli said. “Is Pino’s okay for lunch?”

“Pino’s is perfect. Were you able to learn anything from the apartment last night?”

“I don’t have anything back from CSI,” Morelli said. “There were a lot of prints. I’m sure some of them belonged to Ranger. I’ll get a report on them today. The DNA stuff takes longer. The shoes were all men’s. The apartment was rented to Robert Smith. The information on his rental form was bogus. All transactions were by mail. The owner of the building didn’t care. He was happy to rent the unit. He collected six months’ rent in advance.”