Chapter 14

Once I returned to Rangemen, I headed up to my office to get my laptop then on to my apartment to meet with the team to plan our night's strategies. Stephanie would have to wait one more day.

"Need a shower, dude," Les said jokingly, pinching his nose, as I locked my office door.

"On my way now. Meet you on seven in ten."

When I entered my apartment, Connie was setting the dining room table for lunch.

"Hey."

"Hey. Need help?" I offered.

"All set." She said with a smile. "The guys should be here soon."

"I went for a run so I'm going to go take a quick shower before they get here. I'll be right back."

I continued walking as Connie hummed something I had heard her hum before. She seemed to be in a good mood. The macho part of my psyche wanted her to be happy because of the kiss, though apparently meaningless, that we'd shared. The other part of me, the friend, was glad her head was in a better place than it had been.

The water washed away the sweat but not my thoughts. Visions of Stephanie and Connie bounced back and forth in my head like a Chinese Ping-Pong tournament.

Connie was dressed in a navy blue skirt with a matching jacket and bright pink blouse. She had kicked off her matching pumps somewhere near her desk, so she was walking around in her bare feet. Her make-up was flawless and her nails were long and as pink as her blouse. Her dark hair was twisted in a neat knot at the back of her head, allowing her earrings to dangle freely as she walked. The waning scent of her Opium perfume permeated the air after she'd passed by.

"You look very nice, Connie."

"Thanks. No need to look like a bag lady just because I'm homeless at the moment."

I could have argued with her that she was not homeless. I could have told her that this mess would hopefully be all over soon. I could have told her lots of things. I wanted to tell her lots of things. Instead, I said, "I saw Joe this morning."

"Joe? Joe Morelli? Officer Hottie?" She joked.

"He's 'Agent' Morelli, now. I guess that would make him Agent Hottie."

"I suppose so." She said as she slid a sliced carrot between her bright pink lips. "What's he doing here? Isn't he still working for the FBI in DC?"

"He is."

"So what…? Did he bring Stephanie with him?"

"He did. They broke up again. He said it's permanent this time."

"Really? Is he just giving up on her? What an ass."

I did not know if telling Connie everything was wise, at that moment. She certainly had enough on her plate and I knew she was barely holding it together despite her outside demeanor.

"He feels that she's out of control. He doesn't have time to deal with her so he's passed the gauntlet to me to take care of her."

"That's great for you, right? Now's your chance to sweep her off of her feet." Connie said with a note of sadness that both warmed and broke my heart.

"That's what he said."

There was still a God somewhere, although he and I had not chatted for a long while because I heard a knock at the door. The team walked in and greeted Connie with hugs. Les tried to kiss her. I know this because I detected the sound of her hand hitting his cheek.

"Les." She scolded as he rubbed his face as though she had sucker punched him instead of a gentle tap. "Guy's, you really need to get him laid soon, okay." Back to Les, she said, "Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky tonight."

Connie had prepared a grilled chicken salad, with Romaine lettuce, avocado and tomato slices and a large bowl of sliced fruit and berries that she had drizzled with a honey and yogurt glaze. As always, she served warm crisp triangles of pita bread.

Bobby was first to speak after he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Great lunch, Connie. You can move in and cook for me anytime."

"Thanks for the offer, Bobby, but I'd like to get back home before I retire."

"Then, let's have at it." Tank suggested as Hector helped Connie carry the dirty dishes to the kitchen counter.

I set my laptop on the table and pulled up Hector's diagram of the club. Just as we were about to begin, there was another knock on my door.

"I'll get it," I said. Connie was about to leave the room. "Stay. There's no need for you to hide any longer."

Scott Martinelli, the guy who had taken Ray Rigazio's initial phone call and later, Trapula's, walked in after I opened the door.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sir. I wasn't scheduled to work until tonight. When you called, I was in Philly visiting my grandmother. There was an accident on the interstate and I had trouble getting around it. I tried to drive in the breakdown lane to take the first exit I saw but I got caught. Took one for the team, sir. Two hundred bucks."

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of that for you. Sit down. We're just getting started." Scott sat beside Les. "Scott, this is Connie Rizzoli. Connie, this is Scott Martinelli. He'll be your date for tonight."

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Rizzoli."

"Call me Connie, please." Then she looked at me and mouthed. "My date?"

"Yes. We thought that it would help root Benny out of his hiding place faster if he discovered that you had already found someone to replace him. We created a dating profile for Scott to fit your requirements as per the info you entered on the website so you'd be a match."

According to Scott Martin's personal data page, he was six-feet, four-inches, with dark hair and a Van Dyke styled goatee. He spent a lot of time in the gym and dressed casually, yet he had expensive taste. His parents were both New York City lawyers. Scott liked to dance and frequented dance clubs looking for women to have a good time with. The young man sitting at the table with us, although tall, dark-haired and bearded; was born and brought up in Everett, Massachusetts before moving to Trenton in his early teens. His mother was a schoolteacher and his father was a plumber. Scott did not frequent bars, but he did frequent the gym. I could not tell you if he was well dressed or not since I had only seen him in jeans and a plaid shirt or his Rangemen uniform. He was most definitely an ex-marine and an accomplished MMA fighter. However, he had neglected to add that tidbit of info to his website resume.

"Makes sense to me. I guess you're my date tonight, Scott."

"It would be an honor, Connie."

Hector had discovered that the action at Pacerella did not begin until after ten so we agreed to meet in the garage around nine, then head out in separate personal cars in twenty-minute intervals. Bobby was going to play bartender so he had to be on duty by seven. There would be someone posted at each door. Only Scott and Connie would remain together once they had connected at the venue.

After dinner that night, while the team gathered the appropriate weapons, including pepper spray, electrical ties, and tasers, Ella and Connie rummaged through her things to come up with just the right outfit for her to wear. It had to be cheap, tart-like and slutty, nothing like the lady that she truly was. When Tank mentioned that she needed to look like a tramp and asked if she could pull it off, she simply replied with her hand on her hip and a snap of her fingers while pretending to crack her imaginary chewing gum, "I'm from Jersey, buster. What do you think? Honey, we invented the tramp."

We were all waiting in the control room until it was time to head out when Connie and Ella arrived. Our jaws dropped at the transformation.

Connie was wearing a pair of bright red open-toed platform shoes with a thin strap encircling each ankle. Dark hose with seams inched their way up the back of her legs and under a tiny red leather skirt that left little to the imagination. She had accessorized the skirt with a black lace bustier that revealed a decent amount of fleshy abs and was secured with red ribbons that she had left untied. The top exposed an ever-widening gap with each breath as her breast threatened to pop out and escape their confines any moment. I wondered if that particular item of clothing had been purchased for public or private viewing.

Her hair was teased up into a hive with a streak of neon pink on one side. Her earrings were as large as the many bangle bracelets that she wore to match her outfit. She had deep dark sexy smoky-colored eyes and extra long lashes that she batted against her oversized sunglasses. Fire engine red lips and matching sparkly nails were in sharp contrast to the short bolero jacket in long fake white fur.

I had an overwhelming urge to cover her with a blanket then stuff her body in a closet.

When she reached into her bag, a two by two-foot square zebra print affair with heavy gold chains as handles, for two sticks of gum; she slid them into her mouth, chewed then snapped it several times before announcing that she was good to go. Sliding the bag handles up her fuzzy arm she asked, "Which one of you sexy fellas drew the short straw?"

"You'll be with me." I pointed to her 2005 ruby red Sonata, that I had just had detailed for her. "You're driving."

"My car!" Even on her red stilts, she easily maneuvered over to her vehicle, slid behind the wheel, fondled it then caressed the dash and seats. "I didn't think I'd ever see her again."

Trying to stay off the grid, Les drove his classic navy blue Mustang hatchback through the gate as Scott and Tank lined up behind him for their turns. Twenty minutes later Scott took to the road in his maroon F150 with a four-inch lift kit and roll bar while Tank followed him in his antique, 1985 155 horsepower white T-Bird. Hector was up next in his candy apple red, first generation 1967 Camaro convertible with a 427 cubic inch v-8 engine. We were the last to leave in Connie's Sonata.

Connie was not only delighting in the fact that she was outdoors despite the darkness but also driving her own car when I asked, "Are you nervous?"

"A tiny bit."

"Don't be. No matter how this goes down, someone will be near you at all times."

"I know that. Thank you again for arranging everything, Ranger. I mean it."

"You're welcome. I'm glad that Ray called me and that I could help you." We turned onto the main road toward Stark Street when I added, as I touched her arm gently, "This will all be over soon, Connie. Then you can get back to being Connie Rizzoli again."

"That would be nice. Listen, do you think that I could take a little time off? You know, after this is over. I'd like to spend some time with my mom at the nursing home. She must be worried sick about me. I usually visit her every Saturday."

Connie's mother was an alcoholic and had done far too much damage to her body and mind to be able to recover and lead a normal life again. Ray was footing the bill.

"I'm certain that can be arranged." Then I asked, "Just out of curiosity, is this outfit part of your everyday wardrobe?"

"You don't think I look good as a tramp?" She smiled and snapped her gum again.

"Connie, you look good in anything you wear," or not, I thought to myself, "but this is just a little over the edge, you have to admit."

"I'm afraid I have a very bad habit of never throwing out my old clothes. This stuff goes back to my rebellious high school days. Why do you like it?"

"It's interesting, to say the least. Do you have any more clothes like this?"

"Tons. It's all the rage now. Vintage or old clothes. I could probably get a lot of money for this jacket." She patted the untamed fur. "As long as I manage not to get any blood on it tonight, that is."

"You won't get any blood on your jacket or anywhere else tonight. I promise."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

Still trying to keep the comfortable rapport between us going, and keeping her mind off of the possibility that our mission might not be successful, I asked, "Have you decided what you're going to do with your house? Are you going to sell it?"

"I think so. I'm going to talk to Uncle Ray again to see if he can help convince my cousins to sell me their share of my grandmother's house. I hope that with the money I get from the sale of my house and another mortgage, I'll be able to pay them all off. Not really sure I can afford to do that but, we'll see. At least that's what I wanted yesterday." Her smile was feeble.

"You still have your job at Rangemen, if you want it."

"I'd like that. I love the job. Unlike working for Vinnie, I'm busy all day. Time just flies by and I'm learning so much. And that was really sneaky, by the way, how you talked Harry into turning over the building and business to you, leaving Vinnie out in the cold." She chuckled.

I shrugged with a smug look on my face. Harry had almost begged me to take over the business when I mentioned it to him. He threw in the deed to the building just to sweeten the pot. The proceeds percentage he requested as part of the transaction was almost laughable.

"We appreciate everything you do here, Connie. It takes a huge burden off of our shoulders."

"Thanks for that. It's nice to be appreciated."

We remained quiet as we passed the downtown movie theatre letting out one group of moviegoers in lieu of the next group, causing a minor traffic jam.

"Connie. I'd like to talk about this morning." She spun her head sharply in my direction. "There's nothing to talk about. Nothing happened."

Her eyes glistened as she changed the subject. "I should have taken a different route." She mumbled to herself, frustrated with the traffic and my topic of conversation.

"Have you thought about where you'll live in the meantime until you can get a place of your own again?"

"With Uncle Ray, I guess. He still lives in the small two-bedroom cape he shared with my aunt when she was alive. He has a spare room. I'll be fine."

"You're welcome to stay at Rangemen for as long as you need. I hope you know that."

"That would be great but under the circumstances that might be a bad idea."

"Why would you say that?"

"Now that Stephanie is free, you'll want her to spend time with you. It wouldn't be right for you to entertain your girlfriend with me in the sidelines. It would make us all very uncomfortable."

"She isn't my girlfriend."

"Not yet. Keep working on it." She reached across the seat and tapped my arm.

Still undecided what I was going to do about Stephanie, although I had made a promise to Joe to protect her and I had every intention of doing just that, I let the girlfriend comment die on the vine.

"Stark is only a block away. You're on your own." I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt and slid down to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to arrive alone. We can't be seen together. Find a place to park with easy access out of the lot. I'll follow you inside in five minutes."