No Profit. Not my characters.
I know it has been a long time coming and I do feel bad about that. I did the one shot though, so you have to forgive me. Right? Truthfully, it just didn't come together in my head until now. Thanks for being patient. I hope it's worth the wait.
Carol and Kimmy, thanks for steering me in the right and perfect directions, as always! I don't even want to think of where this might have gone without you two and your amazing instincts!
Carol, you are the most incredible editor ever! You take my words and bring them to a place they'd never go without you! Both of you are so dear to me! Thanks from deep within my heart!
Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing and for your continuous, and loving support, you're the best!
Chapter 39
Joe's POV
"You want me to kill Stephanie Plum or my wife dies?" I questioned, stalling for time and twisting my friggin' wedding band to make him believe I was nervous. I was too. The stakes had just been raised more than I could ever have imagined.
Shit!
How did we go from me making him into a premier crime lord to me killing the one person I loved most in the world? Did he know? How could he? And what the heck happened to him having plans of his own for Stephanie?
"So how the hell am I supposed to get out of here to do it?" I asked bemusedly.
Who else had to be on Blutto's payroll to get a convicted prisoner out of jail, commit a crime and then returned before morning as if it were part of the everyday, normal prison routine.
Fuck! Was it?
Blutto's colossal head and baggy, multiple chins shook in twisted amusement.
"I got you but good, Morelli."
Loud, spitting guffaws accompanied tears running down his pox-marked cheeks. He hit his knee as though I was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Then suddenly all the frivolity ended on a dime.
The guy was one straight jacket short of a fully padded cell.
"You not pay attention. Blutto told you plan with Stephanie Plum. Vhy would Blutto vant her dead? How could I fuck her then?" His round, stubby finger pointed at me. "You disappoint, Morelli. Lackeys working for Blutto must be on toes. Know truth from lies. I tell something—you remember!" He pointed to his head like it was the paragon of pachyderm intelligence.
"Is this a joke to you? I take my work seriously! I'm NO lackey! You better not be fucking with me, Blutto."
"Or what? You should learn keep mouth shut, Morelli! What Blutto does to Stephanie Plum—Blutto's business. If I require you to kill her, you vill do it. If I say jump, you vill leap for Blutto. Remember wife. If you cross Blutto, she goes! Snap! Her pretty neck broken—no more redhead!"
He bristled in his seat. "You are insolent, cocky fool. I'd have to be magician to get you outside valls. I have shitload of tricks—sure—sure—" His spiked tongue came out to wet his lips. "Getting you out may or may not be one. How you say in 'Merica? For me, I know. Vhen I vant—you vill find out."
"Stop with your empty threats! I've had it!" I leaned toward him, a menacing warning in my eyes.
What the hell was he up to? Was this a joke or did he truly intend to follow it through? If he thought this would make me grovel for information, he was sadly mistaken!
"What the hell is it you want from me, Blutto? I don't have time for your insanity."
"SILENCE!"
I could almost see smoke rising from his enormous balding head. Beads of perspiration rippled down his face, and I saw clearly he'd hated being pegged as crazy.
Good.
There was plenty more where that had come from. I knew exactly what buttons to push, and it was time to jam the elevator!
The rolls of fat around his torso jiggled as his back straightened. His nose sniffed the air. "I smell sound of defiance —yet again."
He whacked his cane hard on a metal chair, but I refused to let him see me jump.
"You will be sorry calling Blutto crazy. Like fox I am. You crazy one, thinking you have choice in matter. You're mine, Morelli. What I say goes. Termination is specialty. It gives Blutto pleasure see you go vith slow, pain-filled torture and long, excruciating death."
"You're nothing but an over-bloated slug," I told him, eyes daring him to contradict me. It was time to make him begin to lose control. His ego was the key.
"You have vish see hell, Morelli?"
"No," I scoffed, "I just don't care for blatant insanity. I respect a man who knows his mind. I am questioning if you even have one!"
He made a move as if about to eject out of his chair at me.
"You don't scare me," I jeered.
"You arrogant bastard!" he growled, nearly choking.
"Yeah, I am and rightfully so. You. Need. Me. You know I have connections. You're a power-hungry dictator without a country to rule! All you have is a few men within these bars. I hold the key to lay a crime syndicate at your feet."
I pointed my finger at him as though he needed to learn who was really the boss. "You might be creating havoc all over Trenton—maybe even the whole State of New Jersey, but you are nothing more a flick of lint on the big tapestry that encompasses every metropolis in North America."
Sitting back in my chair, I allowed my words to sink in, yet questioning whether he had the brain capacity to absorb it.
"You think you have answers, Morelli? You know nothing!"
"I know way more than you think I do."
I paused, making him wait for more.
"I've been busting Mafia members and drug cartel with the FBI for years. My intelligence connections are vast, and I know how to infiltrate those families so you could take over ALL of it! Crooked cop was small potatoes compared to what I can do."
I smirked as if he was the worthless piece of crap he was, then laughing derisively, I continued, "I don't need you. You'd be working for me when all is said and done. I'm Italian American. They'd accept me much easier than they ever would you. You stick out like a big blob of blubber. Me? I look the part."
The cockiness oozed from me. "Put me in a pinstriped suit and no one would question it for a moment."
Blutto was huffing deep, angry breaths throughout my little Morelli lesson.
"Hell, you can't even go back to Bulgaria," I pushed. "You're a man without power in your own country. Pitiful—a joke—a mad lunatic out of control!"
He howled angrily, the sound echoing in the small confines of the room. Grinning, I brought home my disgust.
"You're a loser, Blutto, and without me—you got nothing."
"I can get you out from here! You vill kill Stevhanie Plum! I have MORE power than you ever vill have, Morelli. YOU vill do my bidding if you want to live to see tomorrow, you foolish braggart. I vill step on you and make you grind into dirt! You have no idea vhat I am capable doing!"
"And you have NO idea what I can do!" I countered back heatedly.
Shit! My hope had been he'd forget that damned plan of his and be more interested in using me to get him into a seat of supremacy. What the hell was his fixation with Steph?
"Tell me why you want to kill, Stephanie, rather than bed her all of a sudden."
"I hate her! I vill make her pay. I want her to grovel under Blutto—YES!—but I vant her dead MORE!"
My stomach lurched. Mission accomplished. His true intentions had finally been revealed.
"Why? What'd did she do to you? She's just a woman—and not much of one when you get to know her," I mocked. "How could someone that insignificant have such power to make you so angry?"
"She is vy I here!"
"No, you're here because you were arrested for your crimes—just like me."
"She was there—they rescued her. They never find me if not for her."
"You overestimate her, as I did. She's nothing!" I made a zero with my fingers. "The FBI and TPD had you in their sights long ago. Your men took the wrong person. That's why she was there. She had NOTHING to do with the arrest."
"Why you protecting her?" he questioned, eyelids lowering into discerning slits.
"I'm not. I could care less what you do to the bitch! But if you ask me, it's a waste of time."
I got up from my chair and walked to the other side of the table. Shaking my head disapprovingly, I continued, "You're allowing yourself to be distracted. There is a much bigger picture here, and you're all twisted around because of a woman. You're weak and predictable. It is precisely why you will fail without me."
"Son of Bitch!" he croaked in fury.
"Looking right at one!" I shot back.
"Ve are getting nowhere," he grunted.
I folded my arms over my chest. "Exactly."
"I should kill you now."
"You can't! And it's driving you mad!"
"Don't flatter yourself. I vill use you and spit you out! I get from you vhat I want. Then we see vhat happens after we get ball rolling," he sneered angrily. "I vant Stevhanie Plum gone. Final. You will do, Morelli."
"If I do anything for you, then I get what I want too, and you better not be crossing me," I threatened.
My mind raced with thoughts of how in the hell we'd pull off a phony murder of Stephanie. The ramifications of that fake act would be far-reaching once it became public knowledge, hurting everyone who loved her. No one could know who had "done it", and it would have to be played out like a well-oiled machine. If we tipped off her family, could they pull it off? Would that even be an option? Worse yet—how in God's name could I be anywhere near her and not be able to touch her and tell her much I loved and missed her?
Blutto had hit my Achilles heel without even knowing it.
"What you vant." He shook his head disgustedly, revealing the insanity in his eyes. "You are idiot."
"I want my wife under your protection. And trust me, Blutto, if anything happens to her, I vill hold you responsible and you vill pay!" I imitated his ridiculous accent to further show him he'd met his match ego wise.
"Oh ho! You don't scare me, Morelli. Imitate me again, and you vill die. Screw what you can do! I. Don't. Need. You!" His eyes blackened to evil incarnate. "How do I know you trustworthy?"
"You don't."
I was telling him the truth. The moment he trusted me would be the moment of his downfall.
He about split a gasket, laughing at me as though I were the most insane person on the planet. Without a doubt, that honor belonged to him.
"Guh! You are idiot! Watch out, Morelli! I vill poison you like snake! Blutto's more powerful than any magician. You vill find out. When time ripe. You go now. Plotting must be done."
"I should be in on any plans you make!"
"You go! I vill let you know vhat you need to know vhen."
Somehow the guards knew our meeting was over and appeared out of nowhere. Blutto must have some kind of remote pager concealed and available to get their attention at all times.
I was escorted back to the prison yard to finish the time in the balmy May air. God, when was this hellish nightmare ever going to end?
Blutto hated Stephanie and wanted her dead. My gut squished with pure acid as I thought of what this might mean in terms of pulling off the sting of the century. WAS there a way to get me out of that place to do her harm? How? He had so many damned people intimidated and shaking in their boots, I wondered if there'd be any prison staff left when the rampant crime spree was finally exposed and extinguished.
I'd outsmart this imbecile with my last breath if need be. Whatever was coming, my instincts told me it would be happening soon. The obsessive ego of Blutto would want his orders carried out expediently and obediently.
Well, he'd met his match, and I had backup—lots of it! We'd make it look good, and he'd never know how duped he'd been. I had a feeling however that the only way this could end well was with that maniac's ultimate death.
I needed to meet with Tank and get information to Ranger. Stephanie and I would have to put on the performance of a lifetime, knowing it was a given I'd not be alone when I was freed to do Blutto's dirty work.
We had the advantage though—Steph and I. We knew one another inside out. It would take very little—perhaps not more than a look or a slight nod of the head—and we'd know what needed to be said and done. She was the perfect partner for me. I was so grateful to have a woman of steel who'd never bow to fear or intimidation. If anyone could pull this off, it would be us.
Smiling at the thought of her plucky tenacity that had both befuddled and bedazzled me for years, I ached for the day we'd be together again, so our lives could truly begin.
I felt a familiar annoyance tugging on my shirt. Tad Peabody, aka pest at my side, was there—again.
"What?" I asked a little grumpier than usual. My mind had been totally pre-occupied with thoughts of my future with Steph.
"I've been very patient, but I know things you need to know."
I rolled my eyes. "What things?"
"He's planning a conjugal visit for you and your lovely wife." He practically rubbed his hands together in glee.
"Duh—tell me something I don't know."
"Ohhhhhh." He snapped his fingers in deduction. "That's where you went the other day. I wish you'd have let me talk to you. I wanted to help you—I know things!" he insisted again.
"What things?"
"I didn't think that guy had a heart—"
"He doesn't!" I snapped. "And you should stay the HELL away from him. Nothing that puss-filled loser does is for anyone but himself."
He nodded, self-satisfied. "I thought so."
"Yeah, so thanks for wanting to help, but it would be better if you just kept out—"
"Have you noticed that guard—the one named Bart?" He spit a little with excitement. "He used to have blonde hair. Did you see? It's about the same shade as yours now?"
"What?"
"Look—but don't turn all the way around. He's over there."
He started to point a spiny finger, and I pushed his hand down, giving him the best imitation of Bella's eye I could muster.
"Don't point, for God's sake!" I hissed.
I motioned with my hand to change positions with me, so I could get a look.
I'll be damned! How in the hell had I missed it?
He didn't even look like the same guy unless you knew. I'd thought he was new on the job.
Tad smiled like a cat that'd swallowed a cage of happily tweeting canneries.
"See, he has your coloring, and he's wearing brown contacts. Or it's his real eye color, and he used to wear blue contacts," he half grumbled/half rambled. "But that doesn't make any sense. Even with his hair curlier than yours, you two could be brothers. And I ought to know a twin when I see one!" he informed me, his hands flying.
I made a motion with my neck for him to rest his hands. The last thing I needed was an excitable, over- zealous, amateur spy.
Holy shit!
I couldn't deny it. He was right.
Did Blutto's plan include replacing me in my cell when he got me out to do the evil he'd concocted? This guy and I had similar body builds, and he was only two inches shorter than me. It couldn't be just a coincidence.
"You're pretty lucky to have me, aren't you, Joe? I mean I'm so small that people don't even notice me. I can sneak in and listen to them, and they just about step on me. I'm like a little ant underfoot."
"You got that right," I agreed. My gruffness toward him faded a bit. "How long ago did that guard dye his hair?"
"It was dishwater blonde two days ago. He wasn't here yesterday. He looks at you all the time. At first I thought he had a thing for you, kind of like Hector, but now I wonder." Tad stroked his chin. "What do you think is going on?"
"It doesn't matter. Forget you saw anything!" I hissed.
The last thing I wanted was to put the diminutive guy in danger. He might have a chunk of freedom and living still ahead, and I didn't want to take that possibility away from him by having Blutto string him up for spying.
He was small and pretty much blended into the cement work—undetectable until he made himself a total nuisance. Could I take advantage of that? No. I really couldn't risk it.
It was if he'd read my mind.
"Let me help you, Joe. I'm good at being invisible. All my life, no one's ever noticed me—not even my parents all that much. My brother found a great use for me to be his little scapegoat, but mostly I've been pretty insignificant my whole life. I'd like to do this whether you get me out of here or not!"
"Why?" I asked curiously.
Man, this character was full of surprises. I felt badly his family hadn't been very supportive.
No—stop right now!
This would never work and could totally backfire. I didn't have the time or the patience to deal with anything else. My plate was already piled a mile high!
"You're one of the good guys, Joe. You're going to change everything—for a lot of people," he whispered. "If I'd had a son—I would've wanted him to be just like you."
Oh Jeez, I could NOT afford to let this bit of a man get to me. I also couldn't discard the perfect way to spy on Blutto and beat him at his own games.
"I'll think about it. Do nothing until I say so. Do you understand?"
"Yes, son," he teased, eyes crinkling happily.
"Tad, I am NOT saying yes."
"But you didn't say no either!" he reminded me jovially.
I resisted the urge to take it back. I didn't want to take all the wind out of his tiny chest.
"We'll be a great team—you, me and the giant three," he whispered. His grey eyes shone as if I'd given him the key to the gates of heaven.
What had I gotten myself into? And what in the hell could possibly happen next?
Meg's POV
I stood there, arms folded across my chest, while Ranger fought for breath, laughing hysterically! What the hell did he find so funny about Joe and I having to pant and scream like porn stars for an hour of humiliating torture!
"It's NOT funny!"
I wanted to stamp my foot like a rebellious five-year-old. What was it about that man that made me lose my maturity, my confidence and my temper in a blink of an eye?
"Oh, but it is! I would've paid to see it! And the fact that Blutto had Morelli over a barrel without even knowing it is priceless. You have to tell Stephanie!" he added, smirking with pleasure.
"No way! She'll be unbelievably pissed and want to slit my throat—again."
"No, she won't! If I'm okay with it, why wouldn't she be—unless?" His eyes turned to black coal. "You didn't really kiss Morelli or touch him or anything like that, did you?"
"So NOW you think about getting jealous!" I taunted, wanting to punish him a bit for his lack of protective concern earlier. Refusing to let the instant flame in his eyes stop me, I baited, "What if we did? You know it was all an act—harmless fun even."
His hands were on both my shoulders in a minuscule second ready to shake me silly.
"Don't play with me, Meg. Did you—or not?"
"Not!" I snarled. "And it wasn't a bit comical."
Okay maybe it had been. Morelli and I had certainly laughed our heads off, but I wasn't about to admit that to Carlos.
"Maybe not to you and Morelli, but—" He started chuckling again. "Steph needs to hear this directly from you. She may not be as amused by it as I was, seeing as you did threaten her security with Morelli. But she knows the score, and she'll be fine when she realizes it was all an act."
"It was—pretty much," I mused quietly. "Although I did use that 'ride 'em cowboy' thing you love so much."
Confession was good for the soul after all, and if the truth twisted Carlos' brain a bit, so much the better. Sometimes the idiot had it coming!
He spun on his black boots, glaring at me. "You didn't. That's private between us!"
"Well, Joe did wonder—" I dangled and then hastily added, "but don't worry. Afterward, he decided he'd rather not know."
"What in the HELL am I going to do with you, woman!" he shouted. His face was turning new shades of red I hadn't seen before. There was so much still to learn about him.
"That will teach you to laugh!" I pointed at him, my eyes sparkling temptingly.
"You want to teach me something?" he countered; his espresso eyes began to fill with smoldering promise.
"Yeah, I do. I want to teach you to ride bareback."
Groaning in capitulation, his lips swooped over mine and for quite some time we enjoyed his riding lesson.
Steph's POV
The last few days had been rough and shitty, including mourning the loss of a child that never was and might never be—at least, not now. Knowing Joe needed me more than ever, I managed to pull myself up and out of the funk. I needed him back with me so we could further our familial endeavors.
Pouring over and over the information was beginning to feel hopeless. I'd almost given up a few times, but something in the back of my mind continued to prickle. And I'd never been able to let an overwhelming nagging feeling go when it was that damned strong.
Grabbing my coffee, I set about untangling everything in my head, and an hour later I hit pay dirt. The file I'd settled on was like opening a bit of treasure. Now I just had to find the main linking lines, and I'd be in business!
I'd probably seen it fifty times and had passed over it. How had I missed this connection that suddenly had become all too obvious? Remembering a prisoner in Joe's cellblock got me to thinking I'd heard that name and seen that face before. Holy crap! If what my mind was piecing together were true—there would be some political fallout hitting one of Trenton's supposedly finest soon. I needed verification.
Quickly.
I didn't stop to think. I had to know now!
"Vincent Plums Bonding—you get in trouble, we supply funds on the double!"Connie rattled her newest weekly greeting. The familiar, bubble gum smacking Minnie Mouse sounds were music to my ears. I'd really missed her and Lula.
"Connie, how are you? It's Steph."
"Oh my God I thought you fell off the face of the earth, girl! Where the hell are you? You can't still be in Miami. Wait till I tell Vinnie you're home. He'll be so happy. Of course, he'll swear and pretend you're a fungus or wart on his foot. But doll, let me tell you, what he's been like without you! I think he's about ready to call in his wife's family connections to the mob and have Lula eliminated!"
"Connie! You can't tell Vinnie I'm back—or even that you've heard from me! I'm NOT back!"
Oh man, maybe this had been a mistake. Ranger might want to kill me if he finds out I talked to Connie without clearing it first. No, I had to make it look good. If they never heard a thing from me, that would be weird and suspicious. We'd agreed on that, and I'd remind him of it incessantly if he gave me any grief.
"Don't tell me the family traitor with the corkscrew loose brain is on the phone!" Vinnie's whiney voice rang out, and I nearly hung up.
"Connie, have my back on this!" I whispered.
She played along like she'd always done to keep me protected from Vile Vinnie.
"No, Lula, I'm sure you can't take the day off! Even if you had a hot date and he's still there, you gotta come in!"
I could almost picture Vinnie's exploding temper tantrum and I smiled. It was only a little sad to think I'd never be going back to the bonds business. Working with Joe, if I proved myself the way I needed to, was far more appealing. Picturing his gorgeous ass sitting just mere feet from me all day and night was like a lifelong dream realized. Now if I could only follow through on this potential breakthrough!
"He's gone," Connie whispered.
"Okay good. I need you to find out in your own clever way if my mother or my grandmother—or anyone else you can think of—remembers Commissioner Brooks' wife's maiden name, and if anyone in their family within in the last couple of years got into any legal trouble—the kind that would land them in jail."
"If they did, they weren't bonded with us. I'd remember."
"Then I really need you to check into it for me. Can you call True Blue Bonds and ask Sebring too."
"Sebring I can do, but, Steph, why can't you just call your mom yourself and ask?" she inquired, popping a bubble in my ear.
"Uh, they're kind of upset I've been away so long. They think I'm trying to avoid them—and—well—I am!" I stuttered being as elusive as possible.
"This is for a case in Miami with Ranger? I thought you let him go. Word had it you finally gave his trespassing papers back and told him to take a hike."
"Yeah, well—we are done—never were together—not really."
The fact there'd ever been anything at all between Ranger and me felt totally insane now that I truly knew and loved what I had with Joe.
Connie snorted.
"Strictly business," I stressed, keeping my answers vague and holding my patience.
Whose business was it anyway?
Yeah right—other than the entire Burg!
I couldn't wait for the day when Joe got out of that hellhole and back into my life. I'd gladly shout it from the top of the tallest building in Trenton that Joe Morelli was MINE, and there was NO more need for speculation regarding the whereabouts of my heart. It was completely and forever his!
"Okay," Connie complied dubiously. "I guess I can understand your reluctance to endure a Helen Plum interrogation. You know my dad's brother has considered recruiting your mother at times to make the uncooperative minions he likes to torture spit out their darkest secrets!"
"I'm sure." I shook my head, picturing my mother like some German Gestapo soldier threatening someone with the ironing board if they didn't squawk like a strangled chicken.
"Thanks."
I hung up and thought back to any conversations within my family regarding Commissioner Brook's life, wife and family. Damn! I needed to pay MORE attention to the gossip at the dinner table and do less shoveling of food!
Okay, one thing niggling at my mind down and one more to go.
For weeks I'd been trying to find some clue as to how the prisoners were relaying information to the outside world. Yes, some of it was by burner phones, and I didn't have any kind of lead as to how those were being smuggled into the jail yet, but there had to be more than one way. With the epidemic proportion of criminal activity going on, there had to be other avenues of covert communications.
I pulled out the copy of the NJSP family guide for prisoner's rules, visiting hours, self-help programs and anything else you might want to know about a loved one's daily routine behind bars. Who knew what you could find on the Internet? Thank God, Joe wasn't really a prisoner. It was sad to think of the family members who had to study up on all the rules and regulations put upon loved ones. Even if the said loved ones had it coming, the innocent relatives had to be devastated to see it happen.
I'd been over it twice before, but there had to be something I'd missed the first two times. Reading about the classes they could take, the working situations and jobs they were expected hold while serving out their sentences, it was chock full of everything you'd never want to know but had to just to be granted visiting privileges.
Being so cut off from someone you loved more than life was heart breaking. Those loved ones must cherish their phone calls and letters. While I wasn't lucky enough to get to hear Joe's voice, I'd loved the letter Meg had brought me from him and had read it so much I'd worn out the edges and some of the ink right off the page.
Letters.
I knew you could write back and forth, but I hadn't really paid a great deal of attention to the rules on mail. Skimming through the booklet now, I found what I was looking for.
Oh my God! Why hadn't I thought of this before? Why hadn't it registered?
Is Inmate Mail Subject to Inspection?
Yes. All incoming inmate mail, including registered, certified or special delivery non-legal correspondence is opened and inspected for contraband. Incoming legal mail from approved legal correspondents (i.e. lawyers legal assistance to prisoners, state and federal court officials) is opened in the presence of the inmate to insure that contraband is not being introduced into the correctional facility. At no time is legal correspondence from an approved legal correspondent read by the staff.
The words no time and read stood out suddenly, and I realized even though mail is inspected for contraband, it's never read. That meant any information from legal sources could be encrypted or coded in some way to tip off a prisoner as to where or what might be going down in regards to the criminal instigations being run from inside and outside of prison. If they could use an old language like Aztec as I'd seen on a television news report, they would STOP at nothing. It could be a numeric code as well. My gut told me I was on to something—big!
There was the possibility that even lawyers were being bribed or blackmailed under the duress and threat of their families' continued safety. They could easily be manipulated into cooperating and disseminating information.
What if someone working for a lawyer—a secretary or paralegal—could encode information as they were typing it? Lawyers were not about to waste precious billable hours reading every word they'd just dictated. They'd take the pen and sign the form or whatever. They might not even know. Of course, with lawyers that might be wishful thinking too, seeing as I'd been married to one once. I knew firsthand how low they could go. Some might even been in it for a cut of the profits.
I felt like dancing on the walls I was so happy. Two huge breaks in one day!
I needed to look back through all the files of the most notorious prisoners in Joe's cellblock and see which held the common thread of legal counsel. God, what if this and the other information I was waiting for from Connie came together? It wasn't an answer to everything, but it was a start! I could almost see a desk at Joe's precinct with my name on it—Stephanie Morelli: Crime Consultant. Now that had a perfectly melodious ring to it.
There was a knock on the door of my apartment.
It had to be one of the guys—or Meg. Funny, I didn't actually hate that it might be her. Who knew that would happen?
Opening the door, I found Meg and her new lapdog Ranger. I wanted to laugh when I saw how she had him wrapped around her pinky. I felt nothing against them as a couple—except maybe a little old-fashioned monster green envy. They made me miss Joe.
Ranger was different. Only those of us around him on a regular basis would notice. His eyes were softer, his face younger. He didn't have that horrible hardness to his jaw, and he smiled a lot more frequently than I'd ever remembered before. She was good for him. More than that, he was good for her too.
"What's up?" I asked, barely able to contain the excitement I'd felt over my discoveries.
"Well—uh—there's something I didn't tell you—about the visit I had at the prison with Joe," Meg stumbled.
She drew her fingers through her hair nervously, and Ranger's mouth lifted slightly at the corners as if he was trying not to laugh.
"I mean Joe's fine! Everything is fine! He's doing fin—"
"Just tell her Meg." Ranger shut the door firmly behind them.
"Yes, please just tell me. You have no idea where my mind goes the minute someone stutters and hesitates. I HATE the word 'fine'! Just spit out whatever the hell it is you have to say!"
Meg's face flushed slightly. "When I got to the prison, I was taken to a room reserved for conjugal visits which are not allowed at NJSP at all."
My breath heaved in.
"Joe and I had pretend to have sex for an hour while being spied on audibly through the door by one of Blutto's goons. The whole thing was engineered by Blutto to get leverage with Joe," she rushed through the explanation.
I stood there, my mouth hanging like an open door with sprung hinges.
"Say what?" I murmured. No way in hell had I heard that correctly.
Ranger couldn't hold back his amusement any longer. "They simulated cheating on us—loudly," he translated helpfully.
I sat down on the couch hard. Of all the things I'd expected to hear about Joe in prison, that was NOT one of them.
My mouth kept forming words, but nothing came out.
"I know it sounds bad, Stephanie," Meg pushed on. "W—We did have to shed a few pieces of clothing and uh—but uh—it was only because the guard might barge in on us. We didn't even touch each other!"
I tried to find a word of assurance, but I was fresh out. Still in shock I suppose.
"It was just a bunch of hooey for the guard's perverted ears," Meg warbled on. "I'm not even sure what the hell I was doing or saying—Joe either for that matter!"
She paced back and forth, obviously hoping I wouldn't fly through the air and pull her hair out. Turning, she faced me eye to eye
"It was the strangest experience of my life! We both laughed our heads off and could hardly breathe. I've had some pretty weird things happen to me, but that topped just about everything!" Meg confessed almost apologetically.
I couldn't even totally picture it. God, why would I want to? I knew there was nothing going on with them. She loved Ranger, and Joe loved me—just the way it should be.
There was no time to be upset.
"What does this mean for Joe? Is Blutto taking him into the fold?" I asked, feeling both glad and terrified at the notion.
"Yes," Ranger responded, eyes narrowing. "That's what we wanted, Stephanie."
"I know! It's just—I want this to be over."
"We all do," Meg agreed.
My phone rang, and I was tempted to ignore it.
Ranger eyed me, expecting I'd at least look at the caller ID. I tried to pretend it wasn't ringing.
"Stephanie, who is it? Why aren't you checking? It could be your stalker, in which case we need to trace the call."
Ranger looked like he was going to take the phone off the table and answer it for me, so I snatched it up before he could do so, checking the caller ID.
Connie.
Oh boy!
Ranger mouthed, "Who is it?"
I gave him my cease and desist look and turned my back. "Hi, Connie, any luck?"
"Have I ever let you down?"
"Never. You found something."
"Did I ever. You're going to—wait—you sitting down?"
"No."
"I know you aren't really the swooning type, but this is going to knock you into next week!" she giggled giddily.
"Tell me already!"
"First off, I had to call your mother. She didn't know anything. But then your dad came home and she asked him."
"He knew?" I was about ready to jump out of my skin.
"No, no he didn't know anything either," she said in her slow Jersey drawl.
"Connie, for God's sake—how the heck did you—"
"Grandma Mazur, honey—that woman is like a walking Wikipedia of all things Burg! I tell you her mind is as sharp as a friggin—"
"Connie!" I shouted. Like I needed someone to tell me about my own grandmother and her deliciously nosy nature—the same one I'd inherited.
"Okay, I wrote it all down. It's complicated—you know—in-laws and cousins and all that jazz."
"I'll get a pen and write it down too." Making my way to the desk to grab a wrinkled envelope and pencil, I noticed Ranger and Meg giving one another quizzical looks.
"Okay, Connie, shoot."
"Firstly, Mrs. Brooks—Adele's maiden name is Bennett."
"Oh." My ballooning hope lost liftoff and began to deflate.
"But that wouldn't help you anyway, because Mrs. Brook's sister's married name is White."
And deflate—
"Oh, but that's okay, because that's her sister's married name now. Her second husband's Randall White. Her first married name is what matters."
Crossing my fingers, I closed my eyes and wished with all my heart—about to scream at Connie to cough up the information already!
"That name—" Connie stalled as if there should be a drum roll announcing her revelation, "—was Cox!"
A smile lit my face. "And her son's first name was—"
"Larry!" We said in unison.
Holy MOLY! The balloon was shooting straight to the sky now!
"I'll say! He was a fairly new member of the Slayer's gang when you were attacked. I thank God for Sally Sweet and that whacko rescue mission of his to this very day!"
"Me too. Connie, please keep going I'm kind of on a deadline here."
"Remember how some of them were killed and some just scattered away like cockroaches. He was one of the cockroaches!"
"What does that mean exactly? I knew some of them were never caught."
"Keep your FMP's on—I'm gettin' to it."
I took a deep breath and prayed the end of it would answer some very big questions.
"According to what your grandma heard at the Clip 'n Curl, a former neighbor of Mrs. White's, who moved to a new neighborhood, happened to see him a couple of times when he was visiting her new next door neighbors—his aunt and uncle—the Brooks!"
She finally took a breath. She sounded absolutely joyous, though I doubted she had any idea why the hell it should even matter to her.
I did a fist pump, not bothering to look in Ranger and Meg's direction. I'm sure they thought I'd lost my mind by now.
"I guess the story was Marge—that's Larry's mom's first name—was FIT to be tied. Didn't know what the hell to do with her son, and the stepfather was fed up with the trouble and antics getting worse and worse every day. He threatened to leave. It was him or the kid."
"And," I nudged Connie on, hearing her take a big slurp through a straw from the Coke glass I knew she kept filled at her desk.
"Mrs. White, formally Mrs. Cox, asked her sister and brother-in-law to take him in, who just happen to be Commissioner Books and Adele."
"Is there more?"
"Oh yeah, girl—LOTS more," she assured me before going completely silent.
"Connie—TODAY!"
"Well, your grandmother was real helpful, but I had to go to other sources too. You know I never leave a stone unturned—well figuratively anyway. You couldn't get me to be a grave robber—"
"Can we please talk about your disdain of grave robbing another day?"
"Sure. Knowing the surnames and who was who, I called my cousin Luigi. Next to your grandma, he knows everyone who knows everyone. He said Larry goes by Larynx, because he likes to squeeze the life out of things like bugs and cats and wild rodents. Sounds like a real winner as far as sons go."
"Tell me the rest!" I demanded, forgetting all need for decorum. I needed this report yesterday!
They took him in, and somehow they kept his short involvement with the Slayer's a secret. You imagine the humiliation for Brooks to have an association with a known gang member—in his own family no less."
"No, I can't. Interesting," I murmured. My brain was beginning to put puzzle pieces together in a regular mind marathon.
"He stayed with them for awhile, but the trouble really never stopped. Finally, about a year and a half ago, he ran away. He was only seventeen then. He must've been hiding right here in Trenton, because the cops picked him up for a gang related shooting. Now that gang was called Black—something. I didn't quite catch it."
"This is awesome, Connie. You're de bomb!"
She giggled, loving to please people with her knack for digging dirt whenever required. She really was akin to a grave robber. Of course, I'd never mention that to her.
"After I spoke with Luigi, I called Sebring, and he knew all about it. They were set to spring him with the bail bond, but even Brook's influence went so far. NO bail! Though, I'm not sure Brooks even tried seeing as it was a cop that got shot. The cop survived, so Lare's in for attempted murder. Word is, he's not into redeeming himself any in prison, and there's scant hope he ever will—what with all the criminal baloney going on in those walls. Did you know that—?"
"Connie, you've been majorly wonderful. I owe you like a zillion donuts!"
"Wait a minute. How is this something related to a case in Miami? Did he do something there too?"
"Could be," I answered vaguely, feeling a tad guilty. "Thanks! Gotta go!"
Hanging up, I imagined the iron prison bars opening and Joe exiting sooner than I'd ever dreamed. I knew in my gut my other lead was going to pay off too.
Ranger and Meg stood waiting expectantly.
"I have a solid lead on that press leak," I informed them quietly, knowing this was going to have a rippling effect on many people.
Both their mouths flew open in synchronized wonder.
"Who?" They asked, dumbfounded.
Grabbing the prison file with the frontal and profile mug shots, I stared at the terrorizing photo reminder of my close call with the Slayers. I'd seen his face before, and looking at the gang's picture, I found it again.
He'd been there that night in the background. I remembered him looking so young and so scared in the sea of skuzzy, angry and lust-filled expressions of those surrounding me. He'd given me a look I'd never forgotten. Evidently, it was before he'd turned completely to the dark side for he'd had sympathy in his eyes like he'd wanted to cry. Sadly, he'd become hardened and desensitized enough since then to nearly kill a cop. But there had been something in him that was vulnerable and softer.
How sad for his mother and family.
I'd found this miniscule bit of hope in a letter from Mrs. Adele Brooks asking for leniency for her nephew. I'd scanned her signature on the letter and had determined to find out if she was any relation to the Brooks I knew.
Something about the name Marge Cox was familiar as well. I'd heard it before, maybe in one of those many gossip sessions while I'd waited for Grandma's hair to be done or a dinner somewhere. It'd been vague and nebulous in my head, but nonetheless sill there for some unknown, miraculous reason.
Today, I finally remembered.
It'd been a late scorching summer day of picking up skips and hauling them in one after another. Leaving the precinct at one point, I remembered noticing Brooks standing by his car parked next to mine. He'd been in a deep, obviously angry conversation with a young man dressed in black from head to toe.
I only recalled seeing the boy from a side profile and had wondered at the time why anyone would wear the color black in the middle of July! His hair had been spiked and gelled stiff in all different directions, and his wrists adorned in Goth leather bracelets. Something else had lodged deep into my memory—a huge tattoo running up and down the side of his neck ironically depicting two skeletons trying to choke one another.
Bull's-eye!
I showed Meg and Ranger the file, explaining my efforts to connect the dots.
"He's Commissioner Brook's nephew by marriage, and they knew he was a Slayer. My guess is his family is one of those being used and blackmailed to get money to perpetrate more crime. And who knows—maybe Brooks has been intimidated to look the other way. He's the one who made sure Joe was arrested in a room full of witnesses. Isn't it possible he ensured the press was there as well?"
"Oh my God!" Meg's hand went over her mouth.
"Why would he do that?" Ranger asked, always needing concrete proof.
Meg took a deep, accepting breath.
"If he was angry and wanted this stopped, maybe he felt he needed to expose it in a way that could never be traced to him. There are press leaks all the time made on purpose. Stars do it—politicians—maybe he thought it would help in some twisted way," she rationalized.
"Joe could have been killed!"
I was angry. I wanted to get to the bottom of it and expose Brooks for the asshole he was.
"NO matter what his agenda was, he put the life of a good—no—great man on the line—one who was already in the process of doing his job to eradicate the crime going on. And instead of having the full support and backup from his superior, he was set up as a friggin' target!"
"I understand how you feel, Stephanie," Meg said softly.
"If this is true, we've got a commissioner to confront. I'll put a call into Michaels." Ranger stepped into the kitchen, leaving Meg and I alone.
"You're good at what you do, Stephanie. No question. At least we know what happened," Meg said sadly. It was quite a blow to know one of their colleagues was in this up to his neck.
"I think we do," I agreed. "It could've been a three ring circus. This whole mission could've been blown, and Joe could be dead because of it! The Press gets tenacious. If they'd caught on—"
"Yes, but we shut the press out. They would've followed this story with noses to the ground like bloodhounds. The higher ups gave them the order to back off, and they did. Believe me, the press isn't as free as you might think."
"I do believe there is never ending corruption going on—everywhere." I tried not to let it depress me, but it felt pretty hopeless sometimes.
"We're the good guys, Stephanie. I know sometimes the lines are blurred," Meg continued, trying to piece it all together. "But I'm sure Brooks was disappointed it didn't get incessant coverage. Once Joe finishes this thing, there will be no more secrets about what goes on in prisons. Brooks had every reason to want the whole tangled web of crime and terrorization to be stopped. He probably thought it would be justifiable in the end—that it would springboard a total revision of all prison protocol nationwide and release him from the hell forced upon him."
"His hell is only beginning when word gets out."
"If it does," Meg warned softly.
My hackles went up. "Why wouldn't it?"
"He's a good man—impeccable record up until now. Do you think it's worth ruining him over his wayward nephew and a massive pack of greedy criminals? We need the whole story before we hang him out to dry."
The old Steph would've yelled at Meg for all this reasonable thinking. The new Steph understood there was more to this. Brooks was caught in a bad place. NOTHING excused him from turning on Joe no matter what cause he believed he'd had.
"There is a chance it could have been another family member," Meg pointed out, tempering my still simmering anger.
"Like his wife?"
"Could be. We need more information."
Ranger strolled back into the room.
"Michaels will be here in a few minutes. He's beside himself. But he wants to see and hear first- hand everything you have to say." He smiled encouragingly. "And he's pretty impressed with your efforts."
"There's more. I think I stumbled on the way that some of this criminal activity is being arranged and smuggled back and forth."
Again, I had their full attention.
I explained my theory of mail tampering by the lawyers or assistants in law offices, knowing full well it was a shot in the dark.
"I told you she was good," Ranger whispered to Meg.
"You did, and she is."
"I haven't had time to check for the possibility of shared council within the cell block, but I'd be willing to bet that there'll be some."
I felt invigorated. Having a clear goal was going to make my job easy. And I had a really good feeling this was just the beginning.
Meg blew out her own aggravation at the monumental corruption we may have uncovered.
"I'm going to arrange for a temporary embargo on the legal based mail in and out of the prison," she declared. "They'll have to hold it with security we can trust. We can't let on that we're on to them. That'll give you a little time to find the links, and I'm thinking they're going to be big. This could be a whole network with more than one prison and one law firm involved. There's a boatload of money to be made by a lot of sleazy people."
"I'll say, and lawyers are some of the worst. What a clusterfuck!" Ranger's normally even-keeled disposition was obviously incensed by the idea of how far-spreading the tentacles of evil had twisted and turned in every direction infiltrating anything and anyone.
We still don't know how the electronics are being smuggled inside, but I think this may provide a clue," Meg added. She excused herself to the kitchen, already tapping in numbers on her phone.
"You want him home pretty badly," Ranger noted understandingly. His dark eyes gleamed.
"You can't begin to know how much," I breathed.
"I think you just made a huge step toward that homecoming." He smiled, and for the first time in many weeks, I felt like smiling back.
"I just hope there are no more surprises," I said, having no clue how futile my wish would turn out to be.