Just a little something…
I dropped my apartment's front door key in Grandma Mazur's hand, "Dad said he'd help you move your belongings here."
Grandma looked excited and worried at the same time. Who knew how to emotions could be so clearly displayed together? "Are you going to talk to your mother?"
"She said plenty at Friday's tirade." The dinner at the Plums included my mother's usual insults, innuendos, and insistences regarding marriage and children. I guess it's the Burg version of "truth, justice, and the American way." According to Mom, Joseph is willing to marry me like I was an obligation. After announcing I was nobody's responsibility, I walked out.
"She does love you, you know," Grandma Mazur said soothingly.
I laughed, "No, she loves what she wants me to be, not me. I am too un-Burg for her."
"Where are you going?" Grandma asked.
"I have dreamed of Paris." I wasn't going to Europe, but it seemed like a good diversion.
"Are you going off with that hunk of Cuban love?"
"Nope, I'm going alone. While I wanted a relationship, Ranger isn't interested in giving me more."
"What about the horse's patoot?"
I smiled wickedly, "Check out tomorrow's Trenton Times classified used cars. People might be interested in an older Italian Stallion."
Grandma Edna caught on quickly. She assured me she would call her friends thus guaranteeing word would spread through the Burg at light speed.
After giving my grandmother a long hug, and whispering I didn't know when I'd get back and to stay well, I texted my father for pickup outside of the apartment. The taxi rolled to the door, "Ready Pumpkin?"
"More than ready, Dad. Are you sure you won't join me?"
"As much as I would like, your mother needs someone to keep her from spinning off the table edge." I knew he was referring to my favorite toy as a child, the gyro. Three of the fine scratches on the coffee table were from my toy and resulted physical punishment from my mother. To this day, Dad touches the scratches and smiles, remembering his playful daughter.
Before leaving Dad's taxi I donned a blonde wig and sunglasses. As Dad left me off at Departures at the Newark airport, I said, "I'll call when I get there. It might be late tonight here."
"Just leave a message on my phone. I'll reply when I can."
"You and Tank are the only ones with my phone number."
"You have told me several times. Before you bring it up, I'll take your letter to Rangeman in two days. Now go, fly free," he whispered as he kissed my cheek.
"Remember, you are always welcome, but not Mom or Grandma."
He laughed, "I may join you come winter, Pumpkin. Safe flight."
By the time I landed after a 10 1/2 hour flight, I was cramped into a perpetual sitting position. I needed to move and tend to business in something larger than a teacup-size airplane bathroom. I had time before my connecting flight so I walked around the terminal, stopped for food, and new reading material. Once I felt settled, I messaged Dad, "Arrived first leg, waiting for connecting flight."
It was after midnight in New Jersey, but he sent a smiley emoji.
Once I checked into my hotel room, it was way past my bedtime by New Jersey time. I was exhausted and grateful I had time to acclimate to a new time zone. I was six hours behind Trenton. My sleep pattern would need adjusting. I had five days to move into my apartment, shop, and explore Maui before my job began. The only other time I was here was to capture the FTA The Rug Ragucchi. The capture failed, but Ranger and I consoled our loss by engaging in adult activities for a week. It was glorious until Morelli showed up. It was all in the past. Now I have a new name, a new job, and a burgeoning new attitude.
-0-
Having been forewarned, the next morning Edna's friends were reading the classified ads, something they rarely did. As soon as they saw the advertisement, the old lady brigade fired up the Burg Grapevine. By 8 a.m. phones lines were hot with the news. People standing in line waiting for a breakfast sandwich and coffee were laughing. Office workers, grocery shoppers, and those at Tasty Pastry were delighted in the new gossip.
Free to Good Home
Classic Italian Stallion. Dark hair and eyes, body in good working order, plenty of horsepower under the hood. Looking to share drive down the wedding aisle with similar aged or younger Italian sports car intent of creating young Fiats. Comes equipped with a good job, a nonmortgage house, and a dog. Maintenance requires frequent home-cooked meals, clean house, ironed boxer shorts, and a love of televised sports, especially the Mets. Can be seen eating often at Pino's on Hamilton Ave. No liens on the title, the previous owner has left town.
Those not interested in used cars initially skipped the ad. Once word got out, people went back to read the listing. Few people outside of the Burg understood, but Joe Morelli's reputation as the Italian Stallion was well known through the community. For years Stephanie Plum was expected to marry Joe Morelli, at least according to Helen Plum and Angie Morelli. The impediment was her ridiculous job and refusal to act like a proper Burg woman.
The Trenton Police office was in full guffaws when Detective Joe Morelli sauntered into the department building. "Hey Morelli, how many miles do you have under your hood? Are those new tires? Hey Morelli, have you heard from any dealers?"
When shown the ad, circled in red, Joe's blood pressure went meteoric. "What the fu**?" He attempted to call Stephanie only to discover her home phone and cell phone were disconnected.
Frank Plum's first cab fare of the day, Enrico Salvatore, handed Frank the newspaper pointing to the classified ad. Both men's laughter filled the cab. "You daughter has quite a set, Frank. How will Helen react?"
"She's probably well into the bottle mumbling, "Why me?"
The men at Rangeman were also laughing but at the same time trying to call Bomber. When they realized her two phone numbers were disconnected, they tried to find her. All her trackers had been disabled. A call to the Bonds office was met with, "She quit." Her friend Mary Lou only knew she left, alone. They rushed to the St. James apartment and found Edna as the new resident. When asked about her granddaughter, Edna answered, "She has a new job in Paris." "Which Paris, Texas or France?" Lester asked. Edna wasn't sure.
The Rangeman searched for weeks but were never able to trace Stephanie Plum. Only one in the company knew she had a new name and other documents that he helped her procure. The men were heart broken.
Six months later Ranger returned from his latest mission and crawled into the Rangeman SUV for the ride back to Trenton. After twenty miles of silence Ranger asked, "Did she marry the cop?"
Tank handed Ranger the now yellowing newspaper classified page with the circled ad. A smirk was on Ranger's face until he got to the last part. His face fell. "She left?"
"Five months now. She has gone ghost. There is no trail. She learned more about disappearing and covering her tracks than we thought." The big man did not say he was responsible for her successful disappearance.
"You sure she left willingly?"
"Her father brought a letter a few days after she left. She apologized for leaving saying there was nothing more for her here. She was tired of being gossip fodder, personal attacks, and people dictating her life, you included. Does 'Go back to Joe, he's a good man' ring a bell? I told you to pull your selfish head out of your ass before it was too late."
For all the wounds and injuries Ranger had endured over his life, this wound to the heart was the worst and he knew it was his fault.