Stephanie's Point of View
Sunday afternoon flew by. Dad took us all out to eat. Then Joe took a nap in my room while Mom, Grandma, Valerie, and I started making wedding plans.
Carl had cleaned up my Bird's Eye View, which I took home and put back into the bowling bag in the closet. The rats needed too much work, so they were retired until after the Flocking Christmas season.
Monday morning arrived, and Joe and I discussed searching for our next case while we ate breakfast.
"I don't think missing persons is going to keep us out of trouble," Joe argued.
"But it pays better than missing poodles," I pointed out.
My cell phone rang. It was Dillon again.
"Ranger's outside," he blurted out, pumped full of adrenaline. Clearly, his natural instincts leaned toward flight. "Help!"
"Where are you?" I asked.
"We're trapped in your apartment. He's in the lobby!"
That was no good. Ranger knew every way in by heart.
"Go next door to Mrs. Karwatt's," I told him and disconnected, grabbing my purse. "Come on, let's go."
Joe gestured towards his half-full cereal bowl.
"I'll buy you some more Lucky Charms," I said.
He scooped up a couple more spoonfuls before putting his bowl in the sink and following me out to the Camaro.
By the time we got to my apartment, I had run through every scenario I could think of. I was ready with the snappy retorts.
Joe didn't look the least bit concerned. I glared at him as I stomped across the lobby, headed for the elevator.
"What?" Joe asked.
"You're the one who doesn't care what happens to Maggie," I seethed, punching the button.
"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked, stepping into the elevator beside me.
"Care. I want you to care," I told him, jabbing the number two button as the doors closed.
Joe hit the stop button and the elevator jerked as a red light started flashing on the control panel.
"I care," he said. "I have thought about Maggie's case, more than you give me credit for. But I'm...I was a cop. And I've seen...I know what kind of danger that girl is in. Believe me, Dillon can't handle it. If I could help her myself, I would. But we don't have resources to handle it either. Short of dressing her like a teenage boy and hiding her at Morelli House, I don't know how we can help. My number one priority is you, Cupcake. I have to keep you safe."
"So, what? You think Ranger should take her in?"
"I think, with the amount of money her family has, it's only a matter of time before she's dead or wishes she was," he said convincingly. "There are much worse things than marrying a rich asshole. I know that's not the answer you want, but it's the only answer I have."
"Well, that answer sucks," I said. "There has to be another way."
"I know the law. Keeping us within reasonably legal limits is on my side of the division of labor. Determination is on your side of the division of labor," he reminded me. "That is the only reason I'm going along with this. My bet is that Ranger will find a better solution because of your determination. There's something about your 'moxie' that inspires people to move mountains to please you." He brought me in for a light kiss. "Let's go talk to Ranger."
Joe hit the stop button again, releasing the elevator. We started moving again.
"Fine," I growled as the doors opened. "Let's go talk to Ranger."
I knew he was already inside. I tried the door. Locked. I pounded my fist on the door.
"Open this door, Ranger. I know you're in there."
Seconds later, the door opened, and Ranger holstered his weapon. Tank appeared from the bedroom.
"Where is she?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you like to know," I spat at him. "I gave you credit for being a little more...more..."
"I'm taking her back, but she'll have control over her own money and her life," he said.
"What?" I stopped, mid-rant.
"Sit," Ranger ordered.
The four of us sat down at my dining room table.
"I used Rangeman resources to investigate Charles Baxter III. It seems he has fathered a disturbingly large number of children with the household staff at his family's 27 residences over the last 10 years."
"How many?" Joe asked.
"The official count is 103."
I choked as I sucked some spit down the wrong way.
"Yeah," Ranger agreed.
"Is that even possible?" Joe asked, doing some mental math.
"DNA doesn't lie," Ranger said.
"I assume you brought this to Maggie's parents," Joe said.
"I sent a full report to Justin Sedgwick Thiebold, Esquire," Ranger explained. "I pointed out the legal entanglements and potential for embarrassment that could arise as a result of the marriage."
"So, she doesn't have to marry the asshole?" I asked.
"No, she doesn't have to marry anyone right now."
"Then, can she stay here?"
"It's not a good idea. You know how hard it is to keep this apartment secure."
"But Dillon..." I started.
"My attorney has been in negotiations with the Stapleton attorneys. Juniak has been an instrumental liaison between the attorneys and Maggie's parents. They have agreed to grant Maggie access to her trust fund, despite her marital status. The school will allow her to complete her course work. Certain terms were non-negotiable, including graduation, attendance at certain social events, and there are some stipulations as to who she is allowed to marry."
"What kind of stipulations?" I asked.
"I have an excellent attorney," Ranger assured me.
"How excellent?" I asked.
"Where's Maggie?" he asked.
"Where's the contract?" I asked.
A small smile played at the corner of Ranger's lips. "Don't trust me?"
I held out my hand for the paperwork. Ranger pulled an envelope from the pocket on his cargos. I handed it to Joe without looking at it.
"I have an excellent attorney," I told Ranger.
"Yeah? Who?" Joe asked while Ranger broke down and smiled.
Joe looked over the documents. "It's written in legalese all right. But the gist of it is that she's going to have to marry someone a lot higher on the social ladder than Dillon. And co-habitation is out."
"I need to go over the paperwork with Maggie," Ranger said.
Joe nodded.
"I'll get her," I said, getting up from the table.
I went out into the hall and knocked on Mrs. Karwatt's door. Mrs. Karwatt's electronic dog started barking ferociously. "It's Stephanie," I called, but she couldn't hear me over the dog.
I dialed Dillon's phone. "Let me in," I said.
Moments later, Mrs. Karwatt opened the door. "Oh, it's you! Thank goodness."
"Yes, it's just me." I explained what Ranger had been doing, and that Maggie didn't have to marry Charles Baxter III.
"Oh, thank you!" Maggie gushed. "I am so sorry about your husband's shirt. I'll replace it. I promise."
"Just come hear what Ranger has to say," I told her. "We'll talk about the shirt later."
We said goodbye to Mrs. Karwatt and went back to my apartment. Winnie's apartment. Maggie's apartment. Whatever.
Tank and Joe were on the couch watching basketball. I sat down next to Ranger, opposite Maggie and Dillon.
Ranger called his attorney, who walked Maggie through the entire contract point by point. Dillon paled when it became clear what the limitations were on Maggie's time and marital choices.
"It comes down to this," Ranger explained. "An acceptable suitor must earn at least $500,000 annually, have a net worth in excess of one-million, be a US citizen, be at least 35 years old, and it must be his first marriage."
Dillon looked defeated, but I noticed Ranger had that look, like he was thinking about smiling.
The attorney continued. "You need to understand that the original requirements were an annual salary of at least ten-million and a net worth of one-hundred-million. On the surface, it seems like they did everything possible to appear to be making a generous accommodation while precluding Dillon, but here's what we successfully argued to have dismissed. The family wanted to include graduation from a prestigious school, but defining those parameters was a problem, and a specific list of acceptable schools was too lengthy and couldn't be agreed upon. Also, they wanted to include a requirement that the man be from a prestigious family, but again, defining those parameters was too problematic and couldn't be agreed upon."
"Great," Dillon said sarcastically. "I'm over 35 and never married, but I'm still poor and I'm Canadian."
"You're Canadian?" I asked. Then the gears seized up. "Hold it. They knew Maggie was with Dillon?"
"We needed something to bargain with," Ranger explained.
"So you bargained with me?" Dillon asked, incredulous. "What are you saying? They think marrying me would be a bigger disaster than marrying a man who just fathered a small town?"
"Here's our proposal," the attorney continued. "It requires a certain amount of commitment from both of you, but, there is a window of opportunity here for you to live happily ever after, together."
"I'm listening," Maggie said, taking hold of Dillon's hand under the table.
"Sign the agreement. Once you have access to your trust fund, which has grown sizably since your grandmother's passing, you contact my office. I will help you establish a charitable organization or some other legal entity that will allow you to hire Dillon at a starting salary of $500,000 a year. Complete your education requirements. Attend the social events. Keep your nose clean, and you should graduate in six months. During that time, Dillon can apply for US Citizenship. Then, you will continue to see each other as you work together professionally at the organization. Maggie will continue to attend events according to her parent's schedule. Keep them happy. It will go smoother. After a couple of years, Dillon will have a net worth of over one-million, earning over $500,000 annually. And you can be legally married, without risk of losing access to your money."
Dillon and Maggie were bug-eyed.
"How much money is in your trust fund?" Dillon asked.
Maggie shrugged. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've never needed it."
"I can't disclose that information," the attorney advised.
"You don't need to know," Ranger assured them, indicating it was an astronomical amount.
"What kind of organization should we start?" Dillon asked.
"Something you would be interested in, since you're going to be running it," Maggie pointed out. "How about Executive Director of the Society for Legal Aid and Protection for Domestics?"
Ranger wrote it down, then burst out laughing. He actually laughed. I looked down at the acronym. SLAPD.
"I like it. Charles Baxter III deserves to be 'slapped'," I said, smacking my palm down on the table. We were all laughing then.
"I know where you can find your first 103 clients," Ranger told Dillon.
The attorney's voice interrupted our tension release. "In the meantime, Rangeman will continue to provide round the clock security."
Ranger pulled a second envelope from his pocket and handed it to Maggie.
"Rangeman is more than qualified to provide you with a personal assistant who is highly trained in physical protection. Your transportation and social events will also be secured by Rangeman," the attorney explained.
I glanced over at Joe. He was listening, shaking his head and smiling at me. I rolled my eyes, realizing that he was right. Ranger found a way to keep me happy while still cashing in on the Stapletons.
Maggie signed both documents and handed them back to Ranger.
"Do I have to go with you now?" she asked.
"I'll give you half an hour," Ranger said. That was pretty generous coming from Ranger. "Tank will help you carry your bags downstairs."
Dillon and Maggie disappeared into the bedroom.
"There's one more thing," Ranger said, pulling a third envelope from his pocket.
"Mr. and Mrs. Morelli?" the attorney addressed us.
Joe got up and came over to the table. Tank followed, smiling at me.
"We're here," Joe answered.
"Part of the negotiation with Joe Juniak involved the disposition of the Olmer treasure."
I glared at Ranger. "What does that mean?"
"The Trenton Historical Society has some well-funded members. In response to the petition to keep the treasure in Trenton, they have agreed to purchase the find from the State of New Jersey."
"What does that have to do with Rangeman?" I asked.
"The Stapletons are more than satisfied with the results provided by Rangeman. Rangeman made it clear that success in locating Margaret and gaining her cooperation depended largely upon assistance from Morelli and Morelli. Upon Margaret Stapleton's safe return, and surrender of the original copies of the signed documents to the attorneys, Joe Juniak will release to you a 'finder's fee', if you will."
"How much?" Joe asked.
"The treasure thus far inventoried includes 1,327 pieces of gold with an average value of $2,000 each. The total comes to $2,654,000 to be paid to the State of New Jersey. The Morelli's are to receive 2%. That's $53,080.00."
"Sign here," Ranger said, handing me a pen.
"Fifty-thousand?" I stammered, signing and passing the paper to Joe.
"The amount of your contract with the Stapleton's," Ranger told me.
"What?" I looked at Joe. "Fifty-thousand, without negotiation? What is Rangeman getting?"
"$100,000 plus compensation for my attorney and a contract for on-going protection for Margaret, which will be quite lucrative. A friend of mine put us in contact with the daughter of a Navy Seal. Trust me, I've seen her video application, and she's well qualified. They had to call an ambulance."
I grimaced.
"Well, that's all I've got," Ranger said.
"Call me tomorrow," the attorney said, disconnecting.
"Let's get going," Ranger said, standing and pocketing all three documents.
"I can't believe you did that for us," I told Ranger.
"You earned it," he said.
"Maybe, but Dillon's the one who really made out on this deal," I said.
Tank knocked twice on the bedroom door, then opened it. "Time to go."
"You said we had half-an-hour!" Maggie complained, throwing a designer shoe at Tank. Tank quickly closed the door again, looking embarrassed.
"No kidding," Ranger said to me, laughing again. "I love my job."