TWENTY-TWO CALIBER: A STEPHANIE PLUM-INSPIRED NOVEL

p. 8

Chapter Two

I dropped Lula off at the office and headed to Pino's. Morelli was already in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He got up, gave me a quick kiss and sat down again.

"You've had me curious all morning. Is this a business meeting or personal?" I asked.

"Personal for me, business for you" Morelli answered. He still didn't look happy. His brown eyes were cop eyes, hard and assessing; his brown hair – a week past due for a cut – was dishevelled; his body language tight and closed.

"I have a problem. Remember how Mario was arrested for possession of stolen property?" Mario is Morelli's brother and like all Morelli men – with the exception of Joe – Mario was a charming jerk. Always womanizing, mostly alcoholic, periodically abusive and as lazy as they come. Morelli men are the scourge of the neighbourhood. Yet for some reason Morelli women put up with them. Morelli women are known to be saints; Morelli men are known to consort with the devil.

I nodded. Mario was accused of stealing a truck-load of TVs. Apparently one night, while drunk, he and another as yet uncaught person were walking past a truck unloading televisions into a store. Mario got into the truck and drove it away while the store employees were unloading the boxes. The only problem was they didn't close the tailgate of the truck. One of the store employees was still in the back of the truck when it started to move and, when the truck was stopped at a red light, the employee ran out of the truck up to the driver's door and pulled Mario out from behind the wheel. The employee made a citizen's arrest while the accomplice got away.

"Mario was bonded out by Vinnie. My mom put her house up for collateral. His court date comes up in five days."

We stopped talking to order. When the waitress left, Morelli continued. "Mario is gone. He disappeared a week ago. No one knows where he is."

This was bad news. Not only could Mario be in trouble, but if Mario isn't found, Vinnie could be in the position where he has to take possession of the house. This would upset the whole Morelli family, leaving Joe's parents and Grandma Bella out on the street. The ramifications were heart stopping. While no one likes to oust someone from their home in order to repay the bond, definitely no one ever wants to upset Grandma Bella. Sicilian by birth, she has become more Sicilian the longer she lives in the United States. A short scarecrow of a woman with gray hair, a black wardrobe and chin whiskers, she is purported to have the power to cast the "eye" – Sicilian voodoo to which all sorts of calamites are attributed. After being cursed by the eye people have had all their hair fall out, broken out in hives and lost the ability to sustain an erection. People and dogs have been known to cross the street to avoid Grandma Bella.

I don't think I really believe in the eye. But my own run-ins with Grandma Bella and being the recipient of the eye a few times makes me question my beliefs. After all, if it wasn't the eye, why did I get those big boil-sized zits? Why was my period late? But as much as I hate it and try to avoid it, I have somewhat accepted I will continue to be on the receiving end of the eye. Simply put, Grandma Bella hates me.

And now I'm faced with having to step on Grandma Bella's toes in order to find Mario. Could this day get any worse?

Our meatball subs came to the table. "I can't look for him in any official capacity. I don't have time. I pulled a double homicide this morning down on Stark Street. I'll help you in any way I can but I'm not sure how much more I can do. I've already talked to the family and no one has seen him. I don't know what my brother is thinking but I definitely don't want my parents and grandmother out on the street."

Neither did I.

As lunch ended, I got a call from Vinnie asking me to hurry back to the office. He sounded frantic. I drove back, parking my dented and rusty 10-year old Honda Civic in front of the office window. A new black 911 Porsche Turbo slid into the spot behind me. Ricardo Carlos Manosa, aka Ranger, angled out. Former Special Forces, Ranger is my one-time mentor, periodic partner and over-protective friend. At six inches greater than my 5'7" height, dressed in habitual black, he is all mocha latte goodness on the outside and strong moral code within. The fact the code does not always follow standard laws is irrelevant – he is the strongest person I know both in and out. A Cuban-American, he has short dark brown hair and heart-melting brown eyes I know from experience dilate to black when aroused. He smiles rarely, talks minimally and always lives with his back to the wall. He is the other man in my life.

Ranger and I share an attraction we skate around, periodically coming together when the stars align and we let our guard down. But while we both privately acknowledge a more intimate relationship would be explosive, intense and magical, my traditional Catholic upbringing conflicts with his need to avoid personal commitments. Ranger has a past and his first priority is and will always be to try to repair his karma.

"Babe."

"Babe" can mean a lot of things to Ranger. It can mean "You are amusing me." Or it can be a form of foreplay. It can be said in exasperation or, in this case, it can simply mean "I missed you." Ranger pulled me around the corner of the building. He gave me a kiss. Our tongues met and my toes curled. Instinctively I had leaned into him, deepening the kiss, when Vinnie came charging out of the office interrupting us, his weasel eyes looking like they were ready to pop out of their sockets. Ranger sighed.

"Thank God you're here! I need to speak to you both in private. Now!"

I preceded Ranger into Vinnie's office and Ranger shut the door.

"I have a problem", Vinnie bit out, "and I'll pay both of you to solve it." He paused to take a breath. "I'm being blackmailed. I don't know who is doing the blackmailing, just that I am to come up with one hundred thousand by Sunday or else a certain video will go public."

"What is the video of?" I asked.

"Without giving particulars, me, Joyce Barnhardt and a dog whose owner I met in my Sex Anonymous group."

Eeuww.

"Lucille will kill me if she finds out. Harry the Hammer will kill me if Lucille finds out. My life is ruined." Lucille is Vinnie's wife. Harry the Hammer is her father and is the owner of the bonds office. A former enforcer for the mob, Harry did not earn his nickname by his ability to perform carpentry work.

"The thing is, I don't know who knows about my activities. How could they do this to me? It's not like I advertised when I got together with anyone for a date."

"Are you sure they have a video and it's not just a hoax?" questioned Ranger.

"Yes, they emailed a copy to me at lunchtime today", replied Vinnie.

"I will need your email address and password information to see if I can track the sender down through Rangeman." Rangeman is Ranger's ultra-elite security company. Located in a seven-story secure office building in downtown Trenton with satellite offices in Boston, Atlanta and Miami, it more resembles the Batcave in technology and secrecy. While clients encompass Trenton's wealthy and famous, I recently have started to wonder whether more goes on there than simple property protection.

"Please, whatever you can do to help. Just find the SOB and soon."

When it looked like the meeting was over, I cleared my throat. "Just to further complicate your life, Vinnie, it appears Mario Morelli has disappeared." I winced at Vinnie's roar.

"Disappeared?" The horror of what I said left Vinnie speechless and with a mottled face.

"He's got a few days until he has to show up for court, so it may work out okay" I said. Instinct told me Mario wasn't planning on coming back, but I tried to put a positive spin on it.

"It should have been a straightforward bond. His brother is a cop, for crying out loud! Could this day get any worse?" Vinnie bellowed.

"Nope", I thought. Robin Hood, Grandma Bella and blackmail. The trifecta of bad days.