Free At Last

Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns Stephanie Plum and all of her family and friends. I just like to play around in her world. Anyone you don't recognize here is usually someone from my own imagination, but I'm still not making any money on this project .

A/N: It's been another hectic week for me and I haven't had much time to write. I teach classes in an adult education program and I'm taking a mandatory instructor re-certification course for the rest of this week, so my free time is scarce. This relatively short chapter is a bit of a 'detour' to provide a little twist into my story. It's told from multiple POVs. Enjoy! :D

Grandma Mazur's lived with my parents ever since my Grandpa Harry went to the big trans-fat farm in the sky. Grandma was a closet free spirit for the first seventy years of her life. She kicked the door open when my grandpa died, and now nobody can get her back in. Personally, I think she's great ... but then, I don't have to live with her.

Plum Lucky

Chapter 21: The Escapee

Tank's POV

Ranger's going to kill me, I thought, as I tried not to get a speeding ticket. I had just reported to him over the phone that everyone in Trenton was present and accounted for, and that he didn't have to worry about anything. I was just getting ready to spend a fun evening with Lula; things were good between us again, especially since we'd kissed and made up after the incident in the lobby. Ella had been right - the 'peace offering' of cookies made all the difference in the world and Lula had accepted my explanations about Ranger and Stephanie's impromptu trip without too much of a fuss. Everything was cool on my end.

Then I discovered the escapee.

Actually, Bobby made the positive identification. He had been waiting at the Philadelphia airport to pick up his girlfriend's teen-aged brother, who was visiting a few colleges in the area. Apparently, the young man was a very good basketball player and several schools were trying to recruit him. Vivian didn't want her brother to be swayed by any sports recruiters prematurely, so she asked Bobby to meet him at the airport and bring him back to her apartment.

While Bobby was walking around inside the terminal, he noticed a familiar-looking cab pull up to the curb and an equally familiar-looking old woman got out, pulling her big suitcase behind her and went inside to the ticket desk. He recognized Stephanie Plum's grandmother right away, observed her closely and then called me with her flight information. Not surprisingly, Edna Mazur was headed to Miami and I decided to go after her - personally. There was no way I was going to allow anybody from that wacky family to ruin Ranger's plans.

"How will I recognize her?" I asked Bobby as soon as I arrived at the airport.

Vivian's brother's flight had been delayed due to the crappy weather we were still having, so Bobby was still at the airport when I got there. He had booked me on the next flight out to Miami, which would arrive only ten minutes after Edna Mazur's plane was scheduled to arrive. Assuming that nothing happened to delay my flight, I'd definitely be able to catch up to our escapee. She had checked her luggage and would have to wait for it to be unloaded, whereas, I just had my laptop and a carry-on bag of essentials. I only hoped that Lula would understand me - and forgive me - when I returned from this mission.

"You can't miss her," Bobby said, smiling widely at the memory. "She's wearing a neon green running suit - you know the kind she always wears. I took a photo and I'll send it to your phone now. I'm surprised that no one from airport security tried to persuade her to change outfits. Mrs. Mazur's clothes are so bright, they could blind somebody."

I shook my head in disbelief as I glanced at photo on the display of my cell phone. "Damn! I can't believe her family lets her go out in public dressed like this."

Bobby shrugged. "My old granny's just as crazy. No one can tell her what to do either. Besides, that outfit will make it easier for you to spot the woman once you get to Miami."

"You got that right, Brown."

"Have you contacted Ranger, yet?"

"Hell, no! I'm gonna catch our little escapee and neutralize her before she can do any damage. If all goes well, Ranger won't find out until after the fact, understand?"

Bobby looked horrified and he sputtered, "But Tank ... she's only a ... you can't just--"

"Relax, Brown. I don't mean neutralize neutralize," I said as I walked toward the security check-point. "I mean, I'm gonna make sure she doesn't ... interrupt anything, you know."

He stopped in his tracks and said, "Oh. Got it. I won't say a word."

"Thanks, Bobby." I nodded farewell to him and went through the check-point.

"Good luck, Tank."

I hurried through the airport terminal until I reached my gate. My body is way too bulky to fit into those tiny seats that most planes have back in coach, so I boarded the plane with all the other first-class passengers. Everything seemed to be on schedule and it looked like I'd be able to catch up to my escapee without too much of a hassle.

"Ready or not," I whispered to myself after I buckled my seatbelt and the airplane took off into the cloudy sky, "Edna Mazur, here I come!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Edna's POV

"Pardon me, ma'am," said the nice-looking young man seated next to me. "Would you like to trade seats with me?"

I suppose he asked me this because I was sort of leaning over his lap so that I could get a better look at the tops of the fluffy white clouds outside the window on the other side of him. I only had flown in an airplane a few times in my life and I loved the fact that there was always a sunny, blue-sky day once the pilot took us above the clouds. It had been raining in Trenton for the past few days, so it was good to see the sun again. And it didn't hurt that the young man felt pretty healthy, if you know what I mean.

"You sure you don't mind?" I asked him in return, even as I unbuckled my seatbelt. "I don't want to cause you any trouble."

He chuckled and said in what I thought was a slight Southern accent, "Oh no, it's no trouble at all, ma'am. My grandma likes the window seat, too." Then he unbuckled his seatbelt and we quickly switched places while the flight attendant wasn't paying attention to us.

After we got settled and I had enjoyed the gorgeous view for a while, I turned to the young man and asked, "Does your grandmother travel a lot?"

He smiled widely and he answered, "Oh yes, ma'am. In fact, she and my grandfather are seated several rows behind us. They prefer to have seats closer to the restrooms. We just came up to attend my great aunt's funeral this past week in Trenton. Now we're headed back to Miami."

"Wait a minute," I said, "I'm from Trenton, too. What's your name?"

"My name's Bradley Harris, ma'am," he replied. "But please call me Brad. My grandparents are Milton and Esther Nowicki. My mother, Barbara, is their middle daughter."

"Omigod!" I said. "I know them! Estelle Buczek was your great aunt?" I twisted around in my seat and tried to spot this young man's grandparents, but there were too many other people.

"Yes, ma'am," He replied, his long reddish-brown hair flopping into his face as he nodded.

"Well, ain't that a pip? Here I am, flying to Florida all by myself and I run into someone who's almost related to me. But please, stop calling me 'ma'am' so much! My name's Edna. Edna Mazur. And I was at your grandmother's viewing on Wednesday and the funeral on Thursday." Then I reached over to shake his hand.

He smiled and said, "Alright, ma'a-- uh, Miss Edna. Pleased to meet you. I only came up North because my grandparents asked me to travel with them and help them out. They don't drive anymore and they didn't want to be a burden to anybody when they came up for the funeral, especially since my parents returned to Florida immediately after the services were over. Now, help me understand - how are we almost related? I didn't know my Great Aunt Estelle or her part of the family very well."

"Really, Estelle was just a good friend of mine - no relation," I explained. "Her son, Michael, was my daughter Helen's very first boyfriend and we always thought they might eventually stay together for the long haul. Unfortunately, Michael never asked Helen to go steady, so she ended up married to an Italian guy, Frank Plum, instead. I've been living with them ever since my husband died a while back."

"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am, uh, Miss Edna," Brad said sincerely. "Grammy is always saying that it's a small world after all, and I guess she's right. This is so wild!"

"Yep! If things had turned out differently, I might have been related to you by marriage. Who would've guessed that I'd be seated on a plane next to someone with such a personal connection? This must be my lucky day; first of all, I escaped from my family for a little 'vacation' and now I've made a new friend and I already know half of his family."

"As soon as it's safe to walk around, we should go back and say 'hi' to Grammy and Pop-pop. I'm sure they'll be surprised to see you, too."

I nodded. "You betcha! I hardly got to say anything to them at the funeral. You know, they used to live one street over from where me and husband lived in the Burg. I remember all those kids they had - three girls and four boys, right?"

"That's right, ma'am," he replied. "And all of them are married with kids now, so I've got a whole lot of cousins, too."

"I thought I recognized some of those kids at the funeral, but I don't recall seeing you there." Then I took a closer look at the young man and realized that he did resemble Milton Nowicki, especially around the ears, which stuck out from his head through his long hair. "Of course, it was a bigger crowd than I would've thought - especially since it was raining so hard. And it was difficult to see people under all those umbrellas."

Brad laughed and said, "Pop-pop says that's why he and Grammy moved to Florida - to get away from the miserably cold weather up north."

"Oh, it's not so bad," I protested, but even as I said it, I realized how happy I was to be getting away from the cold rain for a few days myself. "Have you always lived in Florida?"

He nodded. "My folks live in Tallahassee, where my dad's a state senator, but my parents actually met and graduated from the University of Miami. I'm in my junior year there now and I live with my grandparents in Coral Gables to save money, as well as to help them out."

"Good for you! I'm sure your parents are very proud of you," I said. "I think I remember your mother now; Barbara was the one who left New Jersey after high school, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mama always said that the worst part of growing up in New Jersey was the cold weather and she escaped as soon as she could. She says she fell in love with Florida and my dad at the same time. They left Trenton and headed back home as soon as the funeral was over, but my grandparents wanted to hang around and visit with Pop-pop's family in Philadelphia through the weekend, so I stayed with them to drive the rental car."

"That's very nice of you. My granddaughter, Stephanie, often drives me around, too, unless she's busy with her job as a bounty hunter."

Brad's eyebrows shot up in amazement. "Wow! Your granddaughter is a bounty hunter? Does she have a gun and kick down doors and everything?"

"Sometimes," I said and dropped my voice down to a whisper, "But it's not as exciting as you'd think. And she hardly ever carries her gun. I carry my gun way more than Stephanie does. The only reason I don't have it with me now is that I didn't want any trouble getting on this plane."

Brad smiled. "You said you're going on a little vacation. Will you be staying in Miami?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted honestly. "First, I have to find Stephanie. She ran away to Miami to elope with this hot Cuban guy named Ranger - I hope. He's also a bounty hunter and I'm trying to make sure the wedding actually happens."

"Whoa! Miami's a big city, Miss Edna. Do you have any idea where your granddaughter and her beau might be staying?"

I shrugged. "No. Not really. I figured I'd look up Ranger's business address when I got to Miami and go from there. You see, Helen wants Stephanie to marry a different guy - a cute cop she used to live with - but Frank and I really want Stephanie to be happy. It's practically the only the thing my son-in-law and I have agreed on in over a decade. In fact, he helped me get my plane ticket and he even drove me all the way to the airport in his cab. My daughter probably thinks he took me to another viewing at the funeral parlor, but she'll have figured out by now that I've escaped from her. Helen won't be pleased, but this is just something I really have to do."

"Maybe I can help. Excuse me for reaching over you," Brad said as he fumbled under the seat in front of me and pulled out a black leather case. He opened it and set up his laptop computer and then he glanced at me. "It might not be safe to get up and walk around, yet, but it's okay to operate electronic devices now. Just give me the name of the Cuban guy's business and I'll look it up for you."

"Jeez, you can do that while we're up in the air like this?"

"Yes, ma'am! So, what's the name of the business?"

"Well, he calls it 'RangeMan' in Trenton, so let's go with that."

Brad quickly typed in the name and said, "Bingo! It popped right up! There it is, on Biscayne Boulevard, so it should be fairly easy to find. It's says here that RangeMan of Miami is a 24-hour security company which caters to the most selective customers. Someone should be able to help you no matter what time you arrive on their doorstep. I'd offer to take you there myself after we land, but I've missed a full week of classes and I must get started on a ton of homework tonight."

"Don't you worry about that, young man. I can take a taxi," I insisted. "You've helped me enough just by finding out this information. It probably would've taken me all night to figure out where I should be going. Now I can head to Ranger's office right away and hopefully find my granddaughter."

"Do you think maybe you could visit with my grandparents after you find your granddaughter and before you return to Trenton, Miss Edna?" Brad asked after he had written down the RangeMan info for me and closed down his computer. "There's a guest room that my parents usually stay in when they come to Miami and I'm sure Grammy and Pop-pop would love to have you."

"It's really nice of you to offer, Brad, but I'd hate to impose. Let's check with your grandparents when we're allowed to get up and move around, okay?"

"It's no problem! In fact, I'll tell them that you're my guest." Then he winked at me and I felt like a teenager all over again.

"Watch it, young man," I said playfully, "I may look old, but I can still bust a move!"

Brad laughed aloud and we had a good time talking about his studies in geriatric social work. We got up and walked back to speak with Brad's grandparents as soon as the pilot announced that we could "move safely about the cabin." Esther and Milton seemed genuinely pleased to see me again and we had a nice little chat before one of the flight attendants asked us to return to our seats.

When we were seated again, Brad told me about his recent internship working with the elderly at a retirement home near Orlando. I told him I never wanted to be imprisoned in one of those places and he insisted that some of them aren't so bad. Then I impressed him with my stories about my recent adventures with Lula and the barbeque sauce contest. I included every detail, including the parts about the crazy hit-men who chased after Lula and firebombed Stephanie's apartment, as well as the hostage situation in the park.

"It sounds like you lead quite the exciting life, Miss Edna. I wasn't kidding when I said you could be my guest. In fact, you could be one of my case studies. My sociology professors would get a kick out of talking to you. They're always glad to see 'young folks' like you having a good time in your later years."

"Just wait till I tell the gals back home about you, you flatterer! Do your grandparents know you flirt with little old ladies like this?"

"Absolutely! Pop-pop taught me everything I know," he admitted proudly. Then he glanced at me sideways and said, "Something just occurred to me; we have a neighbor - a widower, Mr. Zelnich - and I think you two might really hit it off with each other. Please say you'll visit us after your granddaughter's wedding. Please?"

I narrowed my eyes and asked, "Would my meeting with your neighbor be part of your 'case study', young man?"

"Oh no, ma'am!" Brad said with mock horror. "Perish the thought! I was just thinking that, well, you've been a widow for quite a while and Mr. Zelnich has been a widower for about the same amount of time, and Grammy and Pop-pop are always calling around the neighborhood to find a fourth person so they all can play bridge. You do play bridge, don't you Miss Edna?"

"Of course I do! Now, what's this Mr. Zelnich like? I don't want to be paired up with just anybody, you know."

"He's very nice and he's originally from Boston," Brad said. "Gray hair, brown eyes, nice-looking dentures. He and his late wife moved down to Coral Gables in the early nineteen-eighties, when my grandparents did. Miami real estate was in a slump back then because of the race riots and all the boat people and everything and they were able to buy their homes relatively cheaply. Now, the houses in their neighborhood sell for much higher prices. I'm pretty sure Mr. Zelnich owns his home outright, just like Grammy and Pop-pop."

"How come he's still unattached?"

Brad hesitated. "Well, he's what you might call a little ... eccentric. He lost his regular driver's license, so he rides around the neighborhood in a second-hand golf cart. Whenever his grown kids come down and try to boss him around, he takes out his hearing aids and refuses to listen to them. He's been my friend since I was a little guy who used to spend the political campaign seasons with my grandparents while my folks did what they had to do. I think Mr. Zelnich is the main reason I've decided to become a social worker with an emphasis on the elderly."

"Wow! He does sound like my kind of man." Alive, that is.

"Then you'll come and stay with us?" Brad looked so eager.

"After I find Stephanie and Ranger," I agreed. "And only after I make sure they've really gotten married down here. I can't allow them to return to Trenton as just an engaged couple or else my daughter will ruin it for them. I know Helen means well, but she's got to let Stephanie be Stephanie and it's way past due for that to happen."

"You really love your granddaughter, don't you?"

"You betcha!" I said. Then I began to explain, "Don't tell her sister Valerie, but Stephanie's always been my favorite. Poor thing; she's always had the worst luck with jobs and men. Joseph Morelli has held her attention off and on ever since she was a little girl, but nothing ever came of it. She dated a series of okay guys back in her high school and college days, but I never was impressed with any of them. Then she married a complete horse's ass, named Dickie Orr. With a name like that, Stephanie should have known better. In fact, her father and I tried to warn her, but Helen was bamboozled by the guy's law degree. My granddaughter has always wanted her mother to be proud of her and I guess that's what allowed her to be bamboozled, too. Anyway, that marriage only lasted for a hot minute because the rat cheated on her - with Stephanie's arch enemy, no less."

"That's really awful."

"Yep. So Stephanie's been on her own ever since the divorce, except for a little cohabitation with that cutie-pie-hoodlum-turned-cop, Joseph Morelli. She almost married him a couple of times, but they kept getting into fights over stupid stuff like Stephanie's job. Of course, Joseph is Helen's choice for her daughter and the whole family likes him, too. Nevertheless, he's just not the right man for my granddaughter."

"But the Cuban guy is?"

I nodded vigorously. "There's no doubt in my mind. Stephanie gets into a lot of trouble and Ranger's like her own personal Batman. He's always there for her whenever she needs his help and he doesn't seem to mind the fact that she's a bounty hunter, too. I don't think my granddaughter would be alive if it wasn't for Ranger. I just wish my daughter could understand that for herself."

"It sounds like you and your daughter have a lot of differences of opinion."

"Oh, don't get me wrong about Helen," I explained. "She's always been a wonderful wife to Frank and a marvelous mother to both Valerie - her oldest - and Stephanie. Of course, she ought to be that way, because that's how I raised her. Most days, I'm satisfied with the way things in Helen's household have turned out. Sometimes, though, I wish I'd done things differently."

The flight attendant stopped next to Brad and offered beverages to us. I chose to have a Bloody Mary cocktail and Brad chose a ginger ale. We both accepted our complimentary peanuts and pretzels with barely-disguised disdain, especially after I lectured the flight attendant about the 'good old days' when everybody - even the passengers in the coach section - received a hot meal. After we ate our pitiful snacks, I continued to tell Brad about my life in Trenton. He was very easy to talk to.

"I married my husband, Helen's father, Harry Mazur, when I was eighteen and we stayed together through thick and thin. You see, I couldn't seem to carry a baby to full term and right after the doctors told us we'd never be have children, we had Helen. She was our little 'miracle baby' and I did everything I could to do to make sure she had a safe childhood, especially because I knew I wouldn't be having any more kids."

"It sounds like you wish you'd had more fun with her, instead."

"Yeah, I do wish that. When my husband died, he left me to survive without much of a retirement fund. Turns out, Harry was the one who'd been having lots of fun all along. In fact, he had used up most of our savings on trips to Atlantic City to bet on the horses or to play the slots. After his death, I had to move in with my daughter's family and it's been one big pain in the patoot ever since."

"You've said that you don't often agree with either your daughter or your son-in-law. Was it always that way?" Even though he wasn't writing anything on paper, it almost felt like Brad was interviewing me, but I decided to continue telling him my story, anyway.

I shook my head. "When Frank Plum first began to court my daughter, I thought he was quite the good catch for her, what with his full head of dark wavy hair and his nice-looking package. He definitely was an 'Italian stallion' - just like Joseph Morelli - now that I think about it. Of course, Harry didn't like the fact that Frank wasn't any part Hungarian, but Helen had her heart set on the man, so my husband finally gave them his blessings and they got married when she was almost twenty. Helen got pregnant with Valerie right away - which, as you can imagine, was quite a relief to me. They had the two girls, raised them nearby in the Burg and sent them both to college in New Jersey. It was a nice little family."

"Everything sounds okay, so far. What happened?"

"I don't really know. Overall, I'd say that Helen feels unfulfilled as a woman. I know I was that way, too, but that's just the way it was for those of us in my generation. I finally took charge of my life after Harry died, but Helen's still struggling to find her happy place. I think my daughter wishes she'd had a career at some point and lately she's been taking classes to become a nurse's aide. I'm real proud of her for doing that. Her main problem is that she still worries too much about every little thing - especially Stephanie."

"And your son-in-law?"

"Frank's retired from the post office now, and he drives a cab part-time. He's a good man, but we argue over everything from who gets to use the bathroom first thing in the morning to whether or not he should give me free rides in his taxi. I think he's just set in his ways - a lot like my Harry was - and he doesn't like for things or people in his household to bother him. Frank doesn't like change."

"Won't Stephanie's marriage change a lot of things?"

"Yes, but those changes will be for the best. That's what Frank told me when he was driving me to the airport. And, like I said, it's practically a miracle that we finally agreed on something."

For emphasis, I had slapped the palm of my hand on the surface of the seat tray. Unfortunately, that wasn't the smartest move. The impact upset the little plastic cup and the remainder of my drink splashed onto my lap. Brad gave me his paper napkins, and so did the nice lady who was sitting across the aisle from us, but it was no use. I now had ugly red stains all over the front of my neon green velour leisure suit.

By the time the flight attendant arrived with a can of club soda and a wad of paper towels, I knew I'd have to change out of my outfit as soon as possible. The problem was that I had checked my luggage and I only had my swimsuit and a change of underwear and socks in my carry-on bag. My spirits sunk as I realized that I would have to get off of the plane looking like I'd been shot in the doodah.

"Don't worry about a thing, Miss Edna," Brad said kindly. "I know for a fact that Grammy always packs an outfit in her carry-on bag and I'm sure she wouldn't mind lending it to you. After all, this is a clothing emergency. It might be difficult for you to change clothes in the restroom, but if you hurry, you can do it before we start to descend."

Esther, of course, was very happy to lend me her spare outfit. She opened the overhead luggage compartment, quickly located her bag and gave me the clothes. Brad was right - it was difficult to change clothes in the tiny airplane restroom, but I managed it anyway. I immediately realized that Esther's taste is much more conservative than mine, but I thought I looked pretty good in the navy blue pants and matching jacket. It was sad that I wouldn't stand out in a crowd the way I would have in my neon green outfit. However, it felt much better to be wearing dry, stain-free clothes.

When I returned to my seat, I discovered that the flight attendants had covered it with a layer of newspapers to shield me from any lingering dampness. Since the pants were so dark, I figured that the newsprint wouldn't show up on the fabric if it rubbed off. Maybe, I thought, I should travel in darker clothes from now on.

Once we landed in Miami, Brad, Esther and Milton escorted me to the baggage claim area and we exchanged contact information while we waited together. When we all had our bags, they helped me hail a taxi and Brad told the driver exactly where to take me. Then we said our farewells and I promised to visit them before I returned to Trenton.

A funny thing happened, though, as I waved to my friends. I swear I saw a man who looked just like that RangeMan giant, the one they call Tank. I only glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as my taxi began to pull away from the curb, but he didn't seem to recognize me. Anyway, I figured that my eyes were probably tired from the long day of travel and that it wasn't really Tank after all.

"Ready or not," I whispered to myself after I buckled my seatbelt and the taxi merged out into traffic, "RangeMan of Miami, here I come!"

A/N: Once again, I must thank you all for the many encouraging reviews - even though I haven't responded to them yet. As you might guess from this chapter, things are about to become a bit more interesting for Ranger and Stephanie. And the next chapter is shaping up to be another long one. Please let me know what you think of my work so far. Thanks! :D