Chapter 10: Missing Mobster, Oh My!

Crap! I can't believe that scumbag Vinnie would do this to me!? Then again, this was the man who confessed his undying love to a duck! After wasting the next forty minutes taping clear plastic baggies over my missing windows, I managed to swing by McDonald's for a much needed Egg McMuffin, before head to the office. Walking in, both Lula and Connie turned to me wearing the same solemn expression.

"Hey girl. I tried taserin' his ass for you," Lula said, "but he made it out the backdoor too fast." From the look of the files shoved on the floor and torn pieces of...(Vinnie's pants leg!?) cluttering the hallway, I knew Lula was telling the truth.

Connie cut in, "Look on the bright side, Steph. All you have to do is drop Terry off. No skip-tracing involved. Easiest nine-hundred you've ever made."

I thought about that for a second. Connie was right. With the money from Terry's 'apprehension', I could start rebuilding my depleted bank account. Gee...who'd a thought Terry Gilman was good for something other than knocking off harmless old people.

I held out my hand. "Gimme her file."

Connie handed it over and then pulled out another. "Here's the other guys' file too."

Eh? "Other guy?"

Connie stared at me in shock. "Vinnie didn't tell you? Another one of Vito's guys needs to go downtown too. A...Gino Bernardi. You're supposed to pick them both up at Terry's."

Another mob cronie. Great.

I looked over both files. Terry G. Gilman. Age 32. Self employed. Blond hair, brown eyes. Weight...absent??? Found to have been carrying two small caliber handguns along with....three combat knives at the time of her arrest. Sheesh! Charge, carrying concealed. Arrested outside of Benny's Bar & Grill a month or so ago. Apparently, someone reported hearing gunshots in the back alley of Benny's. When police arrived on the scene they found both Terry and an unknown male arguing behind the restaurant. Before an ID could be made, the unknown male fled from the arresting officers, resulting in Terry being the only person charged. Hmm...

Luigi 'Gino' Bernardi. Age 38, 245lb. balding, dark brown hair. Brown eyes. Gino had a verrry long rap sheet. That included everything from grand thief auto and burglary, to repeated counts of assault and forgery. He was charged with second degree manslaughter? Somehow, Gino and his bookie got into an altercation over some money owed. This argument resulted in Gino beating the bookie to death with a nearby bar stool...in a crowded bar.

And I would be riding in a car with this guy!?

I slapped the file shut. "Why can't they just turn themselves in?"

Connie raised her hands and shrugged. "Not a clue. Does it really matter?"

Yes! "No. I guess not."

I checked my watch and turned toward the door. "Got to go. Can't be late for my chauffeuring gig." They wished me luck and I set out for Terry Gilman's.

The area of the Burg Terry lived in took less than fifteen minutes to reach. Rolling pass each house that lined her block, I checked and rechecked each address until I found one that matched the address listed in the file. Her house was a narrow two story, brick home built much like my parents, with the exception of Terry's house not being attached to somebody else's....plus, her siding was an ugly, dull shade of burgundy. Yuck. Parking next to the curb, I noticed right away something wasn't quite right. After a full ten second of staring, I realized there were no cars parked in the driveway. Where were Terry and Gino's cars? Granted there was a single door garage and Gino could have been dropped off...but, I could've sworn hearing somewhere that Terry always parks her car out front, in the driveway.

Opening the car door, I walked up the asphalt pathway to her front door. Knocking twice, I waited. No response. After another minute, I knocked again while pushing the doorbell a couple of times....and waited. No Terry. I twisted the doorknob. Locked tight.

This... was definitely not a good sign.

I tried peering into the house through the hall window just right of the front door. No good. My view was blocked by thick red drapes. Terrific. I took a few steps back. In the corner of the larger front window, I noticed a slight crack between the two curtains sheets. Aha! But, looking down, I was met with a slight obstacle. To get near the window I'd have to brave a slightly muddy flowerbed containing a cluster of red & pink tulips.

Do I dare trample Terry's prize winning tulips for a peek?

Yes!

Trampling away, I peeked into what apparently was her front living room. The poor lighting hampered my investigating...oh, alright snooping efforts. But, from what little I could tell, nobody was sitting around waiting on little ol' me. No noise. No sign of movement. Not even the shadow of Terry Gilman dead, decomposing body lying on the floor...and I was kinda looking forward to that last one. Stepping away from the window, I stomped the mud from the flowered off my Doc's. Hands on hips, I glared menacingly at the Blond Harlots' hideaway.

Now what?

I surveyed my surroundings. To the right, the house curved off into a narrow alleyway. Interesting... Never being one to miss an opportunity to snoop, I strolled over to check it out. On closer inspection though, it turned out just to be where Terry's wooden plank fence and her neighbors' metal one met. No secret side entrance/exit in sight. What a let down. Halfway down, resting against the redbrick wall, were moderately crushed black, garbage bins. Hmm...crushed garbage bins...where have I heard about this? Looking up, I glared at what I knew to be Terry Gilman's bedroom window. Aha! So that's where he jumped from, huh? Pretty long jump. Might've broken a leg. If he ever does it again I hope so. Ignoring the other little images that particular story brought up, I continued down the path. At the very end was a clearly locked wooden door to her extremely tall wooden plank fence. About...6'5" tall to be exact. Hopping up and down, I tried to see over to the other side. No such luck.

Sighing, I walked back around to my Escape and picked up her file. Searching for every number listed, I spent the next ten minutes ringing each of them.

No answer.

That funny sinking feeling I had yesterday, came back with a vengeance. Terry Gilman wasn't answering her door or her phone. By all indications...Terry Gilman was gone.

Oh, boy. I speed dialed the office. Connie answered.

"She's not here," I said, flatly.

"What do you mean? She's supposed to be."

"Well, she's not." I watched the house. "No one's answering the door."

I heard Connie fumbling around for something. "Maybe she's asleep or in the shower. Call her number."

"I just did. All of them. No answer."

"How about the other guy?" God no!

"Not yet," and not likely.

"Call him and see if he's there. If not...hold on till I get a hold of Vinnie." Click.

Ugh! I banged my head against the steering wheel, the horn honking with each blow. This day was quickly going into the crapper. I check the clock. It was almost time to meet Ranger for lunch. Giving Terry's house one last glare, I pulled off and headed over to Big Jim's.

Ranger, in his signature combat green/black army fatigues and badass mirror shades, was already seated (naturally) with his back against the wall. Flopping down at his table, I shoved my handbag underneath my chair and laid my head flat against the cool tabletop with a loud groan.

Ranger lips slightly twitched. "Another rough day, Babe?"

I nodded. "And getting worst." Sitting up, I said. "Why did you want to talk to me?"

Ranger watched me for a moment, all business. "You still in for Friday?"

"Yes," I grumbled. I'd like to get all my humiliation out of the way this week, if possible.

The waitress came by and we ordered the usual. After she left, Ranger said. "Slight change in plans. Takedown's been moved to New York."

"New York City?"

Ranger nodded. "My guy's decided to party with a couple of friends at The Michelangelo."

I racked my brain for a moment. "The Michelangelo....hotel?"

Ranger nodded again.

I sat back in my seat. That costume...a hotel...people...me. NOOOO! I started shaking my head. "I'm not wearing that costume anyplace where other human beings can see me!"

Rangers' mouth twitched. "I know how attached you were getting to the thought of wearing the Catwoman outfit, Babe. But, you're right. You can't wear it to this party."

Narrowing my eyes. "What will I be wearing?"

Ranger grinned. Reaching into his pants pocket, Ranger pulled out a plain white business card with small red lettering printed across the front. Holding it up between his fingertips for a second, he slid it across the table toward me. I eyed the card suspiciously. After that Catwoman deal, I didn't trust Ranger where costumes and me were involved. C'mon, what could possibly be worst than dressing up as Batman's S&M "playmate" for the...uh...hmmm. You know, when you put it in that context.... Picking the card up, I examined it closely. An...address? No business name, just a simple address.

Flipping the card over to check the back, I asked. "What's this?"

"An address." Duh! "Report there Friday. 6:00 a.m."

I looked up sharply. "6:00 a.m.?"

Ranger gave me one of his Ranger nods.

My eyes grew round. "As in 6:00a.m. In the morning? Crack of dawn. Birds chirping. That kind of 6:00am?"

Another Ranger nod.

I vehemently shook my head. "No. Sorry. That's waaay to early in the morning for me."

Ranger folded his arms. "A deals a deal, Babe. You've agreed. No backing out now."

I whined. "But, 6 a.m. Ranger! You do realize I'd have to wake up around four just to get ready? You've seen my morning hair. It takes at least an hour to fix—"

"Don't bother. It's taken care of."

I narrowed my eyes. "Define taken care of?"

Ranger flashed me a stunning 300-watter, but said nothing else. I groaned loud enough to draw the entire restaurant's attention before dropping my head back down against the tabletop.

Our food arrived and we dug in. The food was great, but it did nothing to alleviate my intense feeling of foreboding concerning Terry's apparent disappearance. I never like this feeling. It always seemed to coincide with me being stalked or my cars blowing up.

I looked up from my food to notice Ranger watching me from behind his mirrored shades. I raised my eyebrows.

"Deep thoughts, Babe?"

I was quite for a moment, then nodded. "You haven't heard anything about Terry Gilman have you?"

Ranger continued eating his food. "Why?"

Digging into my greens, I said, "I've been ordered by one, Vito Grizolli to see his niece and a fellow mob cronie safely down to the Trenton Police station. Unfortunately, both have decided to pull no shows on me. So now I have four missing FTA's instead of two, to look for."

Well, really just one. David (the wife beater) wouldn't be much of a problem with Lula's help. Terry and Gino could disappear to the bowels of hell for all I cared. I wasn't going to look for them.

Ranger gave a short laugh. "Need help with those too?"

I swallowed and then very dignifying, stuck my tongue out at him. "No, Just Copozzi...and why? Do you know something about Terry?"

Ranger was silent for a long while. I thought for a moment he wouldn't answer, when he spoke. "I know she's got a couple of problems in Philly."

Interesting... "What type of problems?"

Ranger wiped his mouth off with a napkin, and looked down at his watch. "Ask Morelli."

I gapped at him. "What do you mean 'Ask Morelli'? What's Joe gotta do with Terry Gilman's problems?"

Ranger stood up, pulled out a couple of bills and laid them down on the tabletop. Bending down, he pulled on one of my curls and placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Don't forget. Friday 6 a.m." Then walked off toward the front door.

"Wait," I yelled, standing up. It was no use. Ranger was out the door before I could even move from the table.