Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(61)

We each took a file cabinet and methodically went drawer by drawer.

“I’m not finding anything helpful,” I said. “There’s an entire drawer of appliance instructions and warranties. I don’t imagine any of it covers grease fire. And there’s a drawer of Ernie’s income tax returns from twenty years ago.”

It was a four-drawer file cabinet. I began paging through the third drawer and realized I was looking at movie and television scripts. I pulled them out and stacked them on the desk. I went to the last drawer and found folders labeled STORY IDEAS, PILOTS, CONTACTS, FUTURE PROJECTS. The folders were empty.

“What do you make of this?” I said to Ranger.

Ranger looked through the scripts. “These look like real scripts from movies and television shows.”

“Why would you have a whole file drawer of other people’s scripts?”

“If you had aspirations of writing or even producing you might want to study scripts that already made it to the screen.”

“And what about the empty folders?”

“They’re not pristine,” Ranger said. “I’m guessing they had material in them, and the material has been removed.”

“Did you find anything in your cabinet?”

“Papers from divorce settlements. Veterinary records for two dogs. Lease agreements for cars. Lease agreements for commercial properties. Nothing current.”

There were footsteps on the stairs, and a slim older man wearing a small black nylon backpack came into the room.

“You didn’t tell me to wear boots,” he said to Ranger. “It’s a mess out there.”

“I’ll include an allowance for shoes,” Ranger said.

“Nikes,” the man said. “Two hundred bucks.”

Ranger nodded at the safe.

Slick set his backpack on the floor and squatted in front of the safe. Ten minutes later, the safe was open, and Slick took his backpack and left.

“That was disappointing,” I said to Ranger. “No dynamite. He didn’t even do any drilling. He just used an electronic gizmo.”

Ranger opened the door wide, and we looked in. A small spiral notepad. Several bundles of hundred-dollar bills. A Smith & Wesson .38. Very similar to the gun I sometimes carried. A passport.

Neither of us moved for a beat. Ranger showed nothing, but I know my eyebrows were raised. I’m not sure what I expected to find, but it wasn’t this. Ernie Sitz might have walked away from twenty-year-old tax returns and a collection of sitcom scripts, but he wouldn’t have left this much money in a building he no longer owned. That left Harry or Vinnie. Vinnie didn’t have this kind of money. Harry had varied interests and probably had money and fake passports stashed all over the place.

Ranger took the passport and paged through it.

“Ernest Jingle,” he said.

“Is it a fake?”

“Yep. And not a very good one.”

Ranger returned the passport to the safe, took out the notepad, and flipped pages.

“And?” I asked.

“Financial transactions.”

He showed me a page with numbers.

“Offshore banking?” I asked.

“Bitcoin,” Ranger said.

“Anything else in the notepad?”

“That’s it.”

He used his phone to take a picture of the Bitcoin numbers, and he replaced the notepad. The bundles of money were left.

“That’s a lot of money,” I said.

Ranger examined one of the bundles. “It’s movie money. It’s a prop.”

“The gun looks real,” I said.

Ranger tossed the fake money into the safe and partially closed the door. There were footsteps on the stairs, and Morelli and a uniform walked into the room.

“Looks like Krut is still sick,” Ranger said.

“Pneumonia,” Morelli said. “I think he’s faking it so I have to take over as primary on this.”

“There’s a lot of faking going on,” Ranger said. “The safe is full of fake things.”

Morelli glanced over. “I saw Slick on the street. I appreciate that you left this open for me. I wouldn’t have cause to break in, and even if I did, Slick isn’t in my budget.”

Ranger and I left, and Morelli stayed.

“I have to get back to Rangeman,” Ranger said.

I put my shoes on, and gave him my boots. “I’m going to the bonds office. I have some loose ends.”

“Victor Waggle?”

“For starters.”

“Did you tell Morelli about your conversation with Wulf?” Ranger asked.

“No. I thought it would just muddy the water. He’d have yet another useless lock put on my door. And he’s already got everyone looking for Waggle.”

“Babe,” Ranger said, giving my ponytail a playful tug.

I drove away from the deli with my Rangeman escort close behind. Don’t look, I told myself. Pretend he isn’t there. Ignore him.

I parked in front of the bonds office, and he parked behind me. I got out of my car, and he beeped and waved. I gave him a little wave back.

“Who’s on your bumper today?” Lula asked when I walked in.

“I don’t know. They all look the same. They’re completely interchangeable.”