Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel(72)

“What about the rocket launchers?”

“She said they were used for family fun outings.”

“Did she say anything about Briggs?”

“Yeah. She said Silvio hated Briggs. Briggs was driving Silvio nuts with his nitpicking all the transportation expenses. And Silvio told Miriam that Briggs hums when he works. Briggs would come in to do the books, and he’d hum.”

“Pepper was trying to blow Briggs up for humming?”

“That’s one theory.”

“So let me get this straight. No one wanted to kill Briggs because he knew about Poletti’s money stash and about the cooked books. Everyone wanted to kill Briggs because he’s annoying.”

“That’s what we’re hearing.”

“It’s a real accomplishment to be that annoying.”

“I don’t buy it,” Morelli said. “There has to be more.”

“What about Scootch, Siglowski, Ritt, and Poletti? Do you have a lead on the shooter? I was going with Silvio Pepper.”

“The gun wasn’t found in Pepper’s house or office.”

“Too bad. That would have tied things up nice and neat.”



Morelli was long gone by the time I rolled out of bed. I had a bruise on my face and a Band-Aid on my neck. The cut on my lip was slightly swollen but not terrible. I made myself a peanut butter sandwich and washed it down with two cups of coffee. I slung the messenger bag over my shoulder, told Bob to be good, and went to the front door. There were two black SUVs at the curb and two Rangeman guys. One SUV was an Escalade, the other was a small Mercedes. I was handed the key to the Mercedes.

“Ranger wanted you to have this,” one of the men said.

I texted Thank you to Ranger and got behind the wheel. I had money to get another car, but this made my life instantly better. I was spending a fortune on gas for the Buick, and sourcing out a good used SUV would take time.

First stop was my apartment, to check on Briggs. I ran into Dillan, the super, in the hall.

“We’re painting on Friday, and your carpet is supposed to get installed the following Monday,” he said.

“That’s great,” I told him. “Thanks.”

I let myself into the apartment, and the dogs rushed over to me.

“Hey, look who’s here!” Briggs said. “It’s Aunt Stephanie.”

He was dressed in the tan suit, and it looked like he’d gotten a haircut.

“What’s with the suit?” I asked him.

“I have a job interview, so Nick let me keep it a while longer. What happened with the Russian guy?”

“The problem is solved.”

“I bet.”

“Dillan said the rugs are going in next Monday, so that means I’ll be able to move back in.”

“No problem. I got my new credit cards, and I got some insurance money, and my old apartment building gave me a good chunk of money as encouragement to live someplace else. So I’ll go apartment hunting after the job interview. My cousin Bruce is going to drive me around.”

“I’m only counting eight dogs,” I said to Briggs.

“Mrs. Brodsky on the first floor took one. And Mr. Grezbek down the hall took one.”

Someone hammered on my door, and I looked out the peephole at Oswald Poletti.

I opened the door, and Oswald slouched in. “Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my apartment,” I told him.

“No shit? I thought this belonged to the little turd. What are you two, a couple or something?”

“He’s an acquaintance. I let him stay here because someone firebombed his apartment.”

“Yeah, that was me,” Oswald said. “I was trying to run him out of town so he wouldn’t ruin everything for Miriam. But then he moved here, so I shot off another rocket, only I didn’t count for wind and my aim was off. Sorry about the hole in the wall.”

Briggs and I were momentarily speechless.

“What about the two cars?” Briggs asked.

“I don’t know about two cars. I just shot a rocket into one car. A Porsche. It was awesome. Freaking awesome. I got a freaking boner over it.”

“Miriam?” I finally said. “Are you talking about Miriam Pepper?”

“Yeah, she’s a real nice lady. She makes a bad Manhattan, man. I mean, they’re so bad you could drink until you pass out. And she’s got good Mexican dope too.”

“How do you know Miriam?”

“Her old man kept all the ammo for the shooting range in the Pine Barrens. Man, those were the days. I’d cart all the shit down there for him, and then we’d all get stoned and blow the shit up. Refrigerators, televisions, you name it and we blew it up.”

“Do you see the difference between blowing up a refrigerator and sending a rocket into an apartment?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could have killed someone.”

“It was just a refrigerator. There wasn’t no one in it.”

“I mean the apartment!”

“Yeah, but I thought it was him in the apartment. And anyway that didn’t work so I came over here to tell him to leave Miriam alone.”

“I don’t even know Miriam,” Briggs said. “Are you high?”