TWENTY-TWO CALIBER: A STEPHANIE PLUM-INSPIRED NOVEL

p. 15

Chapter Ten

The next morning dawned sunny and bright. I woke up at seven. My throat was more sore than the night before, so I rolled over and went back to sleep, waking up at nine. The day had started without me. I stumbled into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. There were no new notes, so I figured that was a good sign. Perhaps the person threatening me had given up the chase. Probably not, but it's always good to be positive.

While the coffee was brewing I went in the shower. I washed off, drying my body and pulling my hair back into a ponytail. I brushed my teeth, got dressed and put on two coats of mascara and some cherry lip gloss. That was as good as it would get today.

I went into the kitchen and poured some coffee into my favourite yellow happy face mug. I went to the fridge and looked inside. No milk. No cream. I looked for food to eat. No bread. No cereal. No bagels. Just some peanut butter at the bottom of a jar and a couple of cans of beer. Pretty pathetic, I thought. I looked at the front of my fridge and saw my shopping list. It said "buy everything." I grimaced as I drank my coffee black and made a mental list of what I needed to do today. Get hair trimmed. Buy food. Talk to Anthony and Tina. See if Connie has any new skips for me to chase. I needed the money to buy a new car.

I phoned my hair stylist, Mr. Alexander, to make an appointment. He was available in half an hour. Slapping a ball cap on my head and grabbing my messenger bag and keys, I left my apartment. I opened the door and saw the note sender left me another message. This one was simpler – in red paint that had dripped down my door was a single word: "Die." I took out my phone and snapped some pictures, then headed down to the basement.

The basement of the building is where the laundry facilities and storage lockers are. It is also where Dillon lives in his superintendent's apartment. Dillon says he likes living in the basement. He thinks the dryers emit a comforting scent of fabric softener. With flickering fluorescent lighting and no windows though, I think it more resembles somewhere where trolls might live.

Dillon is a good guy. About my age, he keeps the apartment building in good repair and is always nice to me. And for a six pack of beer he will do almost anything. He is always in good humour. There is little that goes on in the building that he doesn't know about, but for some reason he doesn't hold that against me.

I knocked on Dillon's door. When he answered I explained the problem. "No worries," he said, "I still have some paint left over from the last time your door was vandalized." I told Dillon there were a couple of cans of beer in the fridge for him, thanked him and went out to the parking lot.

I walked out to the Rangeman vehicle. I walked around inspecting it but could not see any evidence the vehicle had been tampered with. All good. I got in the car and drove to Mr. Alexander's in Quaker Mall to get my hair trimmed.

Mr. Alexander – and no one who wants to get their hair cut by him would dare to call him anything other than "Mr. Alexander" – was fairly philosophical about the damage to my hair. "It's not the worst I've seen. Now, when we had to get the cement out of your hair that time, that was the worst I have ever seen. This is nothing" and he called over his assistant to take me back to wash my hair.

A half hour later I emerged from the salon with newly trimmed hair. It was moussed and styled and sprayed to within an inch of its life. Knowing I now looked presentable, I headed off to talk to Anthony. I tried him first at home. He wasn't there, but his wife, Angelina – Angie for short – was. She came to the door with a baby on her hip.

"Hey, Steph, nice to see you! How are you doing?" We exchanged the usual pleasantries before coming to the heart of why I was there. "I heard you are looking for Mario?" Angie said. I confirmed that yes, I was looking for Mario. I headed into my spiel about how Mario was due in court in a few days and no one has seen him in almost two weeks. I told her how Joe was getting worried Mario would not show up. And I told her the Morellis could lose their house if that happened. Angie turned white. She didn't want to be in the position of being required to host Grandma Bella in her house if the Morellis lost theirs'. She said she hadn't seen Mario in over three weeks and as far as she knew neither had Anthony.

I showed Angie the pictures of Kostner and Pendello and asked her if she recognized either of them. She said no. "Am I supposed to? Are these guys somehow related to Mario?"

"Probably not. Just trying to dot all my "i's" and cross all my "t's"", I replied. Truth was, I didn't know why I kept showing those pictures. For some reason I kept thinking they were related, but I didn't know why. Maybe it was my sick-muddled brain, but I couldn't connect the dots.

"I heard Grandma Bella cursed you with the eye the day before yesterday?" Angie asked. We both shuddered. "Yes," I replied, "and it seems to be working already. I have developed a sore throat, had my car shot and exploded and I am getting death threats from some mysterious person, but I don't know who it is. Even worse, I had to go to Mr. Alexander this morning to get two inches of singed hair trimmed off. And I wasn't even due for a cut!"

"I thought your hair looks good. Shorter, but good." Angie smiled. The baby smiled and drooled, turned red-faced and stuck his finger up his nose. See, here's the thing about babies. I love them when they are smiley and smelling good from the bath. Then they have to drool and poop and put their finger up their nose and they lose all their appeal. But that's okay. I guess not everyone is lucky enough to have a hamster.

I headed off to Anthony's work. Anthony is a chartered accountant working out of an accounting firm. He was with a client. I read a travel magazine while I waited for him. Not as good reading material available in his waiting room as there was at the hair salon, but at least the pictures were good. Half an hour later, Anthony came to the front desk, waving off his client before coming over to give me a kiss and a hug. "How are you doing, darlin'?" he said. I smiled. Like Mario, Anthony was a bit of a jerk. But like all Morellis he was a charmer and I liked him. I followed him into his office.

"I just came from visiting Angie. Joe asked me to look into Mario's case. He comes up for trial in a couple of days and as far as I know nobody knows where he is or even if he will show up for court. Joe's getting worried. Vinnie wrote his bond and he is getting worried as well. And to be honest, now that I am looking for him and can't find him, I am getting worried too. Vinnie wrote the bond using your mother's house as collateral. If Mario doesn't show up to court, Vinnie is legally able to take your mom's house. And you know what that means – someone will need to house your parents and Grandma Bella." At that Anthony grimaced. "Do you have any idea where I could look for Mario? I just want to talk to him, to make sure he remembers his court date and to see if he needs a ride to court or something", I croaked out.

"No, I don't know where he could be … wait … what about Alex's place? Alex Lipinski and Mario were always close friends throughout school. Alex and Mario were always getting in trouble together. I have always privately thought Alex was the other person who stole the TVs with Mario. It just seems like the kind of thing Alex would do. You could try his place."

I showed Anthony the pictures of Pendello and Kostner. Anthony didn't recognize them either. I didn't expect he would. But for some reason I kept feeling there was a connection to the blackmailing.

I thanked Anthony and left the office. "That's great", I thought, "two more leads and five days left to find Mario."

As I walked back to the Explorer my cell phone rang. "I made some chicken noodle soup. Why don't you come home for lunch?" my mom asked. I didn't have any plans. And homemade chicken noodle soup sounded good to me.

When I got to my parents' house my grandmother and mother were waiting in the doorway. They asked me how I was feeling and felt my forehead for a fever. "Are you gargling with salt water?" my mother asked. Again I said "yes". I would go to hell for lying to my mother. And I added salt to my mental shopping list.

There is something about going home when you aren't feeling well. Having someone to cluck over you and make a fuss makes you feel a bit better. You may not feel physically better, but you feel loved and that makes you feel better overall. This was no exception to that rule. By the time I left, filled with chicken soup and fresh bakery bread and butter, my throat was just as sore but the compassion and love filled the hollow left behind by the threatening notes.

I drove to the office and parked in the back. The burned car carcasses had been removed from the parking lot, but the scorch marks remained on the pavement and smoke marks remained on the side of the building. In the other three parking spots were three rental cars.

I entered the office through the back door. "Thank God you're here", Connie exclaimed. "I was just about to call you. Vinnie is going nuts. Ranger is on his way here. There has been another threat sent to Vinnie's email." I could see Ranger's car pull up to the curb. I waited for him to come in the office. He came over and gave me a kiss, then together we entered Vinnie's inner sanctum and shut the door. Vinnie was staring at his computer screen, face white and eyes unblinking. He looked frozen in fear. Ranger and I sat down.

"What's up?" asked Ranger.

"What's up? What's up? That fucker sent me another blackmail threat, that's what's up!" Vinnie yelled. Some colour came back into his face. "I don't understand why this is happening to me. I try to be a good person. Sure, I gamble a bit. And I have a wide range of sexual tastes. But I always help old ladies across the street. Well, I did once anyway. But you know what this fucker wants? This fucker wants the money to be left in the train station under the bench closest to the underwear ad. How will I make the drop? I don't have the money. Please tell me you are closer to finding out who the blackmailer is. I have to have the money by Sunday. Today is Tuesday. What will I do?"

I thought it ironic the drop was supposed to be at the underwear sign.

"You received the threat by email again?" asked Ranger.

"Yeah, I did."

"Did you talk to Joyce and Joey yet to see if they received similar emails?"

"No, I haven't yet."

"Stephanie and I will talk to Joyce and Joey in a few minutes to see what is happening at their end. Can we trace your emails again?" Vinnie said we could.

I went out to see Connie. Connie pulled up the telephone numbers for Joyce and Joey and wrote them down on a piece of paper. I went back into Vinnie's office and shut the door. I called Joey first and asked her whether she had received another email from the blackmailer. She confirmed she had. I then asked her for the instructions the email contained. "I'm supposed to take the money to the train station and put the money under the bench near the dog food advertisement. And I have to put the money there on Sunday before eleven o'clock."

"The dog food ad? Are you sure?"

"Yes. That's what it says. I don't have the money. What will I do?" she wailed.

"Don't panic. We'll think of something. Do you mind if we trace your email again?" Joey confirmed this would be okay.

"Don't worry. We will catch this guy." I got off the phone and relayed the information to Ranger and Vinnie. I could see a pattern emerging – Vinnie at the underwear ad, Joey at the dog food ad. I couldn't wait to hear where Joyce was supposed to do her drop.

Next on the list was to phone Joyce. While I was happy I didn't have to see her, I really didn't want to call her either. I looked at Ranger. "My throat is sore…" I said in my most pathetic voice.

Ranger smiled. "Chicken", he said. He picked up the phone and called Joyce.

I could hear his end of the conversation. Yes, she had received another blackmail note. Yes, she was asked to drop off the money on Sunday before eleven o'clock. Yes, she was asked to drop it off under the bench at the train station, but she was asked to drop it near the safe sex advertisement at the train station. I smiled at that. Yes, we could access her emails again to see if we could trace the emails. No, he was not interested in getting together for drinks. No, he was not gay. Ranger shook his head and got off the phone. "And you're interested in her, why?" he asked Vinnie.

"She's easy. And she does everything."

Ick. Too much information.

Ranger phoned the control room at Rangeman. He asked Rafael to trace the emails and to get back to us.

I looked at Ranger. "I think it is time we head over to the train station", he said. On the way out of the office we noticed Lula was sitting still, not moving in the slightest.

"What's going on?" Ranger asked Lula. "You aren't vibrating anymore!"

"That was the movement diet. It don't work. I gained five pounds in the last three days, can you believe it? It was supposed to work. It was simple. All I had to do was to keep moving. I thought I kept moving enough. 'Course maybe you were supposed to keep moving when you were asleep. What do you think? You're in shape. You should know. Was I supposed to keep moving when I was asleep?"

"No, I don't think so. I think you are just supposed to exercise."

"Exercise? I'm not putting up with that shit. If I exercise I get out of breath. And I sweat. That don't look good in my clothes. It is hard to look fashionable when you got sweat running down your face and between your boobs. And how can you exercise in heels? I need my Via Spigas to show off my legs. Exercise, hunh."

Ranger stared at her for a moment in amazement. He shook his head and walked out to the car. As I followed Ranger out to the car I was thinking I could understand where Lula was coming from. It is hard to look good with sweat running down your face.

We got in Ranger's car and drove to the train station, finding parking several rows away from the platform. See, that is one of the differences between Ranger and myself. Ranger parks in the first spot he sees – I drive around for five minutes trying to make sure the spot I found is the one closest to where I wanted to go. And after finding one I then get mad if someone else takes it while I am looking for one even closer.

We walked to the platform, searching the walls for the three different advertisements. We found them in a row, one right after another along the back wall close to the end of the platform. There seemed to be nothing special about the benches. Made out of recycled plastic lumber, they rested on concrete legs. There was a space under each of the benches. There was no way of seeing through the slats of lumber to see an envelope underneath. The person picking up the envelope will have to reach down and pull it out from under the bench.

Ranger got a call back from Rangeman. Rafael confirmed all three emails originated at one o'clock from the Internet Café. Ranger and I went back to the car and drove to the establishment. When we entered we saw the same manager on duty. He recognized us and greeted us with a smile. I guess the twenty dollar bill we gave him last time was greasing our way today. We again asked him to see the security tape for the day. He took us into the back room, pulling the tape up on the screen. We fast-forwarded to 12:55 and then looked at the tape at regular speed. At 1:00 there were three people using the computers. It was hard to see faces due to the scratchiness of the tape, but it appeared all three people were different from the previous computer users. No Mario, no Pendello, no Kostner. We asked for a copy of the tape again, giving the manager another twenty dollar bill. We left with our tape and climbed into the car. Ranger drove me back to my car at the bonds office.

"It will take me about an hour to get this tape back to Rangeman and to allow Rafael a chance to clean it up. It's almost dinner. Why don't you come to Rangeman and we can review the tape and then have dinner?"

I agreed. That gave me just enough time to do some grocery shopping before I had to go to the Batcave.

Leaving Ranger's car, I hopped into the Explorer. I had the choice of going either to Giovichinni's or to the Shop and Bag to buy my groceries. At Giovichinni's I would have a lesser array of food choices but a better deli and I could further milk the Burg gossip mill about Mario. However, I would know just about everyone and would be required to talk about the car explosion – not such a good idea with my sore throat. So I drove to the Shop and Bag. I grabbed a shopping buggy and manoeuvered it down each the aisles. Milk, cream, cereal, bread, peanut butter, crackers, cheddar cheese, olives, beer, juice, bagels, cream cheese, sliced ham, sliced Swiss cheese, bananas, frozen lasagne, body wash, paper towels, toilet paper, sanitary napkins. Baby carrots and raisins for Rex. And salt. Can't forget the salt. And I could get it all in the car without having to meet anyone I knew. Good deal.

I drove back to my apartment, parking as close to the building as I could. No point in carrying my groceries farther than I have to, right? I took the elevator up to the second floor and walked down the hall to my apartment. Dillon had worked his magic – the door to my apartment was threat-free.

I stuck my head in my apartment. All seemed quiet and safe. I put away the groceries and fed Rex a cracker. Rex ran to his dish and shoved it in his cheek pouch. He sat staring at me, whiskers quivering, for a few seconds before scurrying back to his soup can. I changed his water and told him I would be going out for dinner. I told him he would have to be a good guard hamster and to protect the apartment. I always try to let Rex know when I am going somewhere so he doesn't worry about me.