Chapter 3
The next morning I drove to my parents' house to do laundry and found the aroma of bacon wafting through the air. As I entered, I heard arguing.
"Helen," Grandma yelled, "Don't rain on my parade! I can have nine bridesmaids if I want!"
"Mother," my Mother replied, "It's a bit excessive."
"No it's not," said Grandma.
"Besides," my Mother said, "Who gets married again in their seventies? Betty Markovich is old and she isn't looking to get hitched again."
"Getting married again is on my bucket list," said Grandma. "It was my top-secret thing I have to do before I die."
My Mother rolled her eyes. I was trying to sneak downstairs to the laundry room when Grandma spotted me.
"Stephanie," Grandma said, "Do you think nine bridesmaids is too much for an old lady's dying wish?"
"Mother," my Mother said, "You're not dying."
"Am I going to be one of them?" I asked. I hated being in the wedding party. The last time I wore a bridesmaid dress it was a theme wedding and the dress was accidently altered to become Little Whorehouse on the Prairie.
"No," Grandma said, "I'm going to ask my friends at the Clip 'N Curl to be bridesmaids."
"No problems here," I said.
"You can leave your laundry here," my Mother said to me. "I'll wash it and you can pick it up later."
My Mother drinks scotch and irons when she's stressed out. When I come back to pick up my laundry, my socks will probably be ironed.
I ate pancakes and bacon and quickly got out of there before I got involved in the wedding preparations. I drove to Tasty Pastry and picked up a dozen doughnuts before continuing on to the bonds office.
When I got out of my car my spidey sense was tingling. I had a feeling I was being watched. I looked around. There was a couple entering the bakery. A few people going to the laundromat. A lady waiting for the bus. No one looked overly suspicious.
Inside the bonds office, Lula was reading the newspaper with her glasses perched on top of her yellow hair.
"I can't read shit with the glasses on," Lula explained.
"I have doughnuts," I said, placing them on Connie's desk.
"Thank God," Connie said, "I don't know if I could drink another one of those breakfast smoothies."
I took a Boston Crème doughnut out of the box and took a big bite.
"You should be getting a fax from the Newark Police Department sometime today," I told Connie. "It's a death certificate for Cruise Mendez."
"I saw the story in the paper," Lula said, "They say he was gunned down right in front of you using armor-piercing bullets. See here, I'm keeping current 'cause it's the smart thing to do."
"The worst thing was that he was still wearing my handcuffs when they took him away," I said.
"No problem, I got an extra pair." Lula said as she pulled a pair of cuffs out of her purse and handed them to me. "They were real cheap so I stocked up."
"I've got three more skips for you," said Connie. "Another drug dealer, an arsonist, and a wife-beater."
I took the files and read through them. The arsonist was 24-year old Liam Flint who lived in the Burg. The 31-year old drug dealer was Antonio Torres who lived on Stark Street. The 43-year old wife-beater was also a Stark Street resident called Isiah Malone.
Vinnie emerged from his office, "You need to find some of these losers," he said, "I'm not running a charity here!"
Lula, the doughnuts, and I got into my Ford Escape and set off for Stark Street. When we pulled up to Antonio Torres's apartment building, there were police cars parked outside and a cop was wrapping crime scene tape around the sidewalk.
"I'll go investigate," I said to Lula.
"No problem," said Lula. "I'll stay here and make sure the car doesn't get stolen."
"Smart thinking," I said. Stark Street was the run-down section of Trenton with low-income housing. The residents were a mix of gang members, drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, and people down on their luck. For the most part, it was a lawless place. The police usually avoided it if they could, so the fact they were here spoke volumes.
I walked up to one of the cops I recognized, Carl Constanza. He and I made communion together and we frequently ran into each other due to my work.
"What happened?" I asked him.
"A drug dealer got gunned down," Carl said.
"Let me guess," I said, "His name was Antonio Torres."
"How did you know?" He asked.
"He was one of my skips," I explained.
"Two shots to the chest," Carl said. "Torres was wearing Kevlar too. The bullets pierced right through."
When I got back to the car, all of the doughnuts were gone. I looked incredulously at Lula.
"What?" Lula said. "I'm an emotional eater. All those cops swarming around makes me so nervous that I gotta eat."
I sighed. "Torres is dead." I told Lula.
"Wanna get some lunch?" She asked. "I'm thinking Chinese food. We're in need of some ancient Chinese wisdom that they put on those fortune cookies."
We got take out chow mein, kung pao chicken and egg rolls and parked back on Stark Street outside of the wife-beater Isiah Malone's apartment building. After eating, we took the stairs up to Isiah's apartment on the fourth floor.
"Why don't your skips ever live on the first floor?" Lula asked, wheezing from exertion.
I knocked on Isiah's door and a petite woman answered. She had lots of bruises on her face and her arm was in a cast. This must be Isiah's girlfriend.
"We're looking for Isiah Malone," I said.
"He's not here," she said.
"He missed his court date and I need to take him back to the station to get him rescheduled," I explained.
"Did he do this to you?" Lula said, pointing to her cast.
"Yeah," she said, "The lousy motherfucker. He comes home after being out with his homies, thinking he's all man and starts beating on me. I pressed charges after I ended up in the hospital. A girl can only take so much, you know?"
I left my card with the woman.
"Call me if you see him," I said.
Lula and I got back into the car and we pulled away from Stark Street. We wound our way through the streets of Trenton back to the bonds office.
"We forgot to open our fortune cookies," Lula said, handing me a cookie.
"What does yours say?" Lula asked.
"Make preparations now for your future," I read off the paper strip. "What about yours?"
"Your future lies in your past," Lula read. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
My past consisted of poor life choices, my cars blowing up, and people firebombing my apartment. I made a mental note to buy a fire extinguisher.
"We could always play the lottery with the numbers on the back," I said.
"Damn skippy," said Lula.
Just then, my phone rang. It was Grandma.
"He's here," Grandma whispered into the phone, "That good looking guy from the funeral parlor is at the Senior's Centre. He's trying to talk William into some sort of Ponzi scheme."
"I'll be right there," I told her.
"I'll stall as long as I can," said Grandma.
We made it to the Senior's Centre in under 15 minutes. Sure enough, Nicholas Jones was talking to William and handing him a business card.
Lula and I walked up just as William was moving away.
"Nicholas Jones?" I asked.
"Sorry you must be mistaken," said Nicholas.
"Joshua Cole?" I tried. "Or how about Matthew Smith? Or Mark White? Or one of your other aliases?"
Realization dawned on Nicholas' face and he was getting a look that I've learned to associate with a skip who is just about to run. I pulled out my stun gun and zapped him in the neck. No messing around.
I put Lula's cuffs on him and together we managed to drag him out to the street and into the backseat of my car. About halfway to the police station, Nicholas started to regain consciousness.
"Look ladies," he said, "You look like smart women. Let's make a deal. You let me go and I'll give you $10,000 each."
"Cash?" asked Lula.
"Savings bonds," said Nicholas, "It's better than cash. Safer too."
"Does it look like we were born yesterday?" said Lula. "We don't want none of your fake money."
I stopped at a red light at a busy intersection and Nicholas jumped out of the car and ran for it. I opened my door and got out. He had already disappeared into the crowd.
"Dammit," I said. I looked at the backseat. The handcuffs were lying on the ground, broken into pieces.
"How did he get out of the cuffs?" I said. I looked at Lula.
"Uh," she said, "I thought I would save me some money so I might have gotten those at the dollar store."
Mental head slap.
We were already in the Burg so I decided to check out the listed address for Liam Flint, the arsonist. According to his file, he lived in the basement suite of his aunt and uncle's house. Lula and I went around back and knocked on the door. Nobody answered.
We came back around and knocked on the front door. A middle-aged man with red hair and freckles answered.
"We're looking for Liam Flint," I explained, "Have you seen him?"
"You mean that freak nephew of mine?" He asked. "I've been trying to evict him but my wife lets him stay as a favor to her sister."
I gave him my card. "We need to reschedule his court date, please call me if you see him," I said.
"There he is!" the man said, pointing behind me.
Lula and I turned around and sure enough, Liam was crouched down by my Ford Escape wearing a bright red onesie pajamas with a flame embroidered on the back.
"Hey you," Lula yelled, "Stop right there!"
Liam backed away and I noticed that he had lit something on fire and put it under my car. I dashed to my car, slid along the pavement and kicked the flaming bag out from under my car.
"I am the Firestarter!" yelled Liam as he ran away.
"That was close," I said.
"First the Gingerbread Man and now this?" Lula asked, "This must be pretend-to-be-a-freak week."
After dropping Lula off at the bonds office, I stopped at the hardware store and bought a fire extinguisher. I figured it wouldn't hurt to have one under the kitchen sink, just in case.
After eating dinner at my parent's house and picking up my laundry, I hauled everything into my apartment.
There was a knock on my front door. I looked through the peep hole and saw a big chest wearing black clothing.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"Tank," he said. Tank is 6' 8", African-American, and built like, well, a tank. He is also Ranger's right-hand man. He protects Ranger's back and occasionally is assigned to be my babysitter when I have a stalker or get tossed off bridges.
I opened the door and let him in.
"Stephanie," he started. A sense of dread filled me. He used my full name.
"Ranger was working undercover and there was an explosion," he said. "I'm sorry. Ranger's dead."
In a way I knew this was coming. Ranger didn't lead a safe life. He's killed people in the past and lived the life of a mercenary. In recent years he had become a businessman and had been working on fixing his karma. He kept people close to him at arm's length in order to protect them. But that didn't explain why it hurt so much now.
A week had passed. I finally left my apartment when Grandma showed up at my door.
"Time to get up and take a shower," she said. "The funeral is today."
I let her get me cleaned up and accompanied me to the funeral. I went through the motions and came home.
"There's only one thing you can do when the one you love dies," Grandma said. "Carry on."
The next morning I found myself staring at the bonds office glass front door. I was resilient. I was going to carry on. I walked in and found Lula and Connie staring at me.
"Steph, I'm so—" Lula started.
"Are there any new files for me?" I asked Connie, cutting off Lula.
"No," Connie said.
Vinnie emerged from his office with a smile on his face. "No one's been jumping bail. The word on the street is that being on the run from you is like getting a bull's eye painted on your chest. Everyone's scared of getting shot down." He narrowed his eyes. "You're not shooting your FTAs are you?"
"No!" I said.
Vinnie thought about it for a moment. "You're right. I shouldn't know. Plausible deniability." And he walked back into his office and closed the door.
"In the last week there's been two more drug dealers that have jumped bail and gotten shot," Connie explained. "The only open files are the ones you have for Nicholas Jones, Isiah Malone and Liam Flint."
I turned and walked towards the door.
"Steph," Connie said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about Ranger."
I got into my Ford Escape before the tears came and set off for the Burg to look for Liam Flint. I pulled up to his address and knocked on his basement suite door. No answer. I went around front and knocked. His uncle answered again.
"Have you seen Liam recently?" I asked.
"No," the uncle answered. "He's being really sneaky and I don't hear him leave or come home."
"You're powerless to catch me!" Liam yelled from behind me.
I turned and saw him start running down the street. I took off after him. He was wearing his red onesie pajamas with the flame on the back again. After a half dozen houses, I was gaining on him. All of a sudden there was a loud BOOM behind me.
I turned and saw my car engulfed in flames. Liam must have put a bomb under my car when I wasn't looking.
"I am the firestarter!" Liam yelled. "You'll regret the day you chose me for an enemy!"
As Liam took off, I sighed. In the distance, fire truck sirens were wailing. I stayed and gave my report to the police and watched the fire trucks hose down the burnt out wreckage.
I still had my shoulder bag but I needed some wheels. In the past when I've been in between cars, I've always been able to borrow Uncle Sandor's old Buick that lives in my parent's garage. I walked the 10 blocks over to my parent's house. I was tired and dejected by the time I got there. My grandma and mother were standing on the porch.
"We heard sirens and had a suspicion you might be dropping by for dinner," Grandma said.
"I know Joseph is out of town so I invited someone over I think you might like," my Mother said.
I groaned. "I hate fix-ups."
"He's a little bit older than you," my Mother said. "But he's financially stable. I met him outside the bank today and invited him over."
Reluctantly, I walked into my parent's house. Sometimes the need for food overcomes pride and I hadn't gone grocery shopping in a long time.
"Come sit down at the dinner table," my Mother said to me.
I entered the dining room and couldn't believe my luck. Nicholas Jones, the bond forger, was sitting there having a conversation with my Father.
"Stephanie," my Mother said, "Meet—"
"Nicholas Jones," I narrowed my eyes.
"Oh crap," Nicholas said as he bolted it from the table.
As he tried to run past my Grandma, she held out an umbrella and stuck it between his legs. He tripped and toppled over. I jumped over the dining room table, scattering dishes and cutlery everywhere and threw myself down on top of him. I managed to get out my stun gun and zapped him.
As I was pulling out my cuffs, Grandma was laughing.
"I've been holding in that laugh ever since he got here," Grandma said. "He had no idea he was having dinner with a bounty hunter."
My Mother looked shocked. "I've never seen you do a takedown before."
"Sorry about the table," I said, hauling Nicholas up by his armpits. "Can I borrow the Buick?"
It was dark by the time I dropped Nicholas off at the police station and got my body receipt. As I was getting back into the Buick, my phone rang. It was the girlfriend of Isiah Malone.
"He's here," she whispered into the phone. I heard banging in the background. "He's at the door. Please help. Come quickly."
I motored it over to Stark Street as fast as I could. I parked on the street and saw Isiah Malone duck into an alley. I got out of the car and followed.
Unfortunately, he was hiding in the shadows and lunged at me. He caught me off guard and punched me in the face. I fought back but he was too big and too strong. He pushed me up against a dumpster with his hands around my neck.
"Who's going to protect you now that Ranger's dead?" He sneered. He turned me around and put his weight on top of me. "I'm gonna take great pleasure in fucking Manoso's bitch." He reached around and tried to undo the top button of my jeans.
Fear and terror ran through my veins. Two shots rang out and Isiah stumbled back holding his shoulder. I looked over at the shooter and saw Tank standing in the alleyway entrance holding a gun. I ran toward him. He put his hand around my upper arm and led me to a black Rangeman SUV.
"Hal will take care of the Buick," Tank said. Hal was a Rangeman employee.
I got into the passenger seat and Tank sped away. After a few blocks, I had stopped shaking from the adrenaline burn off.
"I figured you needed some backup when I saw your tracker on Stark Street after dark," Tank said.
"You're tracking me?" I asked.
"Ranger and I had a deal," Tank explained, "If anything happened to either of us, we would take care of each other's…things. I got Rangeman and you."
"What would have happened if you died first?" I asked.
"He would have gotten my cats," Tank said. Tank has three cute fluffy cats and the thought of Ranger turning into a cat lady made me half smile.
"How did Isiah know who I was?" I asked no one in particular.
"You're unforgettable," said Tank, "And with the right training, you could be unstoppable."
"I think I need self-defense lessons." It was the understatement of the decade.
"Meet me at Rangeman tomorrow," Tank said. "Six am."
A/N: Before you write any "hate reviews", refer to author's note at the beginning of chapter 2: Babe fans, hang in there.