Chapter One
Six long, hungry months ago, I lost my job as a buyer at a regional lingerie company. The company was forced to shutter its doors when the CEO, who had been expected to keep making regular payments to the Mob boss who owned him, bought a yacht and skipped town with his mistress. Bye-bye company, bye-bye job.
You'd have been wrong if you thought it easy for a former lingerie buyer to find a new job. Haggling over discount granny panties at a disgraced lingerie company doesn't scream, 'HIRE ME,' ya know?
During the past six months, I've moved from Newark back to my hometown of Trenton, where I live in a rathole one-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a three-storey building inhabited mainly by senior citizens one step away from assisted living. My beautiful red Mazda Miata is gone, repossessed when I could no longer make the monthly payments. Most of my furniture is also gone, with only a bed and a nightstand remaining. I sold the rest to keep the lights on in this dump. It is a shitty, depressing place to live, but at least it's shelter. My cell phone is a distant memory, but I managed to hang on to the landline, which costs much less each month.
My parents had been a big help since I moved back, letting me come to dinner every night before sending me back home with a bag full of leftovers. True, I do have to accept that my dinner invitation comes with strings, such as random men showing up to the dinner table in the hopes that one of them will make an honest woman of me, therefore eliminating the need to find a job at all, but it was better than starving.
Growing up in the Chambersburg (aka the 'Burg) section of Trenton was a brutal throwback to life in the fifties, where women were and still are expected to raise children and keep house, welcoming their husbands home with a hot meal and a subservient attitude. Much to my mother's dismay, I've never been very good at doing what's expected of me.
She does love me, however, and doesn't nag me too much about declining to spend more time with any of my potential paramours. After all, I had already married a man my mother approved of, and two months later, I found him banging the town bicycle on my brand-new dining room table. After the loudest divorce in 'Burg history, I've vowed not to make the same mistake again.
After my Miata was towed away, my Grandma Mazur lent me my late Uncle Sandor's 1953 powder blue Buick Roadmaster, a behemoth that cornered like a refrigerator and got like four miles to the gallon that we jokingly called Big Blue. It's no fun to drive, but I'll be damned if the thing isn't indestructible. Here we are, seventy years later, and there's not so much a scratch in the paint.
Slowing to a stop in front of the narrow duplex my parents still call home, I heaved myself out of the car and trudged up the steps toward my mother and grandma, who seem to have sixth sense whenever I'm approaching and assemble on the top step to await my arrival.
"Stephanie, stand up straight," my mother called. I straightened my back as I neared, offering a weak smile to the two women.
"Hi, Mom, hi, Grandma," I said in greeting.
Hello, baby Granddaughter," said my grandma, who clicked her dentures in her mouth as she offered me a wide smile. My Grandma Mazur moved in with my parents after my Grandpa Mazur keeled over at the dining table immediately after gorging himself on an oversized meal of pork roast and mashed potatoes. Since then, she's become somewhat of a wild child, spending her time ogling young men, shopping at Forever 21 and prying open the lids of closed caskets at the local funeral homes. She spends a lot of time at the Clip 'n Curl, gossiping with her friends and having her candy-floss hair dyed in interesting colours. It's been a light lavender shade for the past month, which today went well with her early aughts lavender velour jogging suit.
As she turned to re-enter the house, I spotted the word 'Juicy' on her rear end and mentally shook my head. Despite her attire and attitude, I love my grandmother probably more than anyone else. She's always been a pillar of support for me, taking on my mother's old-fashioned attitudes on my behalf, offering me refuge when I needed to get away and encouragement when I bucked those around me who tried to fit me into the 'Burg mold.
As we sat down to eat, my dad, who rarely said anything at the dinner table, spoke up. "Your cousin Vincent is looking for a file clerk," he said gruffly.
Hope sprang into my chest. "Really? I'll head down there in the morning. Thanks, Dad." Working for Vinnie would probably be a nightmare due to his propensity towards creepiness and rumoured relationships with farm animals, but at this point, I couldn't afford to be picky.
When I arrived home that night, I dropped a piece of broccoli into my hamster Rex's cage. No one ever ate the broccoli on offer for dinner, but that didn't stop my mother from preparing it anyway. I put away most of the food from the leftovers my mother packed me, except for one of the pieces of the excellent chocolate cake we had for dessert.
I went to bed early, determined to be in front of my cousin Vinnie's office first thing in the morning, which I knew to be nine a.m. I'm not a morning person, so it takes every ounce of will I possess to be awake that early.
Five minutes after nine, I was walking into the Vincent Plum Bail Bonds Company, where I was greeted by a buxom brunette who reminded me of Betty Boop if Betty Boop had a mustache. She was pretty in a classic, made-up Jersey girl way.
"Hi," I said. "Is Vinnie in?"
She stared at me a moment, then asked, "Stephanie Plum? Is that you?"
"Yeah. Do we know each other?"
"I'm Connie Rosolli. I was in your sister Valerie's class in high school."
I thought briefly back to my high school days. "Connie Rosolli? I remember you. Your younger sister Tina was in my class, right?"
"Yeah, she was. She's married with four kids now. She's always tired."
I chuckled politely. Thank fuck that's not my life. "Good for her. Does she still live in Trenton?"
Connie snorted. "Nah, she's up in Newark now."
"Wow. Tell her I said 'hi' next time you talk to her."
"Will do. So what can we do for you? Please tell me you don't need a bail bondsman."
I shook my head. "No, nothing like that. My dad told me Vinnie had an opening for a file clerk here. I need a job."
"I'm sorry. That job is gone. You wouldn't have wanted it anyway. It's a horrible job, and the pay sucks," she said.
"It's gone? Shoot. I need a job, though, even if it's shitty. At this point, I can't be too picky."
She looked at me sympathetically. "Maybe you could fill in as our Bond Enforcement Agent while Morty Byers is recovering."
"Bond enforcement? Like Dog the Bounty Hunter?" I frowned—no way I could do that.
"It's nothing like Dog the Bounty Hunter. Most of the people you'd be going after are for smaller offences. They missed their court date, you take them back to the police station, and they await their court date in jail, or we rebond them."
"Is it dangerous?" I asked apprehensively.
She shrugged. "It can be. But you get yourself properly outfitted and learn some takedown procedures, and we keep you away from the really scary ones; it gets less so."
"It's temporary, right? I suppose I can try it while looking for another job."
Connie nodded approvingly. "Yeah. Morty is expected to be out for a few weeks recovering from his appendectomy. It ruptured, so he has a longer recovery than normal."
I let out a quick breath. "Okay. I'll do it. How do I get started?"
She grinned. "You'll have to talk Vinnie into it. I'm sure you know how to do that. Plus, I have a file I think you could handle, and that one is worth fifty grand to you."
My eyes widened. "Why so much? Are you sure that one's not a danger to my health?"
"He's a Trenton vice cop. He's accused of murder, but the word on the street is that he's being set up. He's skipped his court date so he can prove his innocence."
"That doesn't sound like a good way to tell the judge you're innocent."
"It's not, but from what I've heard, Ranger does things his way."
"Okay. Where's Vinnie?"
"Hiding in his office." She swivelled her chair to face the door behind her. "Hey, Vinnie!" she yelled.
The door opened, and Vinnie poked his head out.
"Whaddayawant?" he scowled.
"Hi, Vinnie," I said.
"Steph?" He stepped further out of his office with surprise evident on his face.
"In the flesh." Fuck. I shouldn't have said that. I don't want him picturing any of my flesh.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I need a job. Connie told me you need someone to fill in as a bounty hunter while your main guy is out sick."
"You?" he asked incredulously. "You're not a bounty hunter. There's no way you can do that. You're not qualified. No."
"Well, maybe you're right," I began. "Maybe I should just spend my time visiting my relatives. And relatives-in-law. Like Lucille. Yeah. I should visit Lucille. We have tons of stuff to discuss. We could probably just talk and talk and talk all day long."
He growled. "Fine. But it's only temporary until Byers gets his ass back to work. And you stay away from Lucille!"
He stomped back to his office and slammed the door. I turned back to Connie, who sported a huge grin. "That's how it's done," she said approvingly. "Let's get your paperwork in order."
Connie passed me the paperwork to officially become a Bond Enforcement Agent for the Vincent Plum Bail Bonds Company. I read it, noting I'd receive ten percent of the bond amount when I successfully apprehended the felon and brought him back to the police station. I'd have to bring the body receipt from the police station back to Connie, and she'd have the money directly deposited into my bank account. She explained all of this and more while I was filling out my information.
"Just bring me your bank details, honey, and I'll take it from there." She handed me a few files. "Two of those are small potatoes, only worth a few hundred each to you. But you'll be able to get used to the procedures while you track down the cop, and by the time you get to him, you'll be an old pro."
Even a few hundred sounded amazing to me. A few hundred dollars meant I could buy some food and have it in my house, allowing me to avoid my mother's kitchen and interrogations into my life. Maybe I could even get a cell phone again.
Connie had done preliminary research into the FTAs in the files and clipped their photos on the inside cover. I checked the lower ones first, reading through their crimes and taking in their stats, like their addresses, phone numbers, and who secured the bond. In both cases, their mothers had put up the collateral.
I closed those files and pulled the cop's file onto my lap as I sat on the old, ripped couch. When I saw his picture, I nearly dropped the folder. Holy crap! This guy is HOT with a capital H, O, and T! He's of Latino descent, which I had already assumed based on his last name, and had dark golden bronze skin. He had a strong, straight nose above full, luscious lips, and I lost myself in a moment of fantasizing about kissing those lips. His eyes were the colour of dark chocolate, with an intensity that came through even in a photograph. His black hair was in a shorter David Beckham pompadour style with tapered sides. I felt my panties getting ruined while I looked at his photo.
Connie watched me amusedly until she finally said, "I know, right? He's gorgeous."
I nodded my head fervently. "Yeah. Wow."
"Even though I don't think he'll harm you, he will be tough to find. No one even knows where he lives, and the official address on his driver's license is a vacant lot. His cop buddies aren't talking, and if he has a girlfriend or a boyfriend," I raised my eyebrows at that, which she caught before she continued, "Hey, he's so hot that he just might be gay. Anyway, no one knows anything about that. He's very private."
"Okay. I'll see if I can find these other two first."
"Get yourself properly outfitted first."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You need handcuffs. I can give you a pair to get started. Mace would be a good idea, as well as a gun or at least a stun gun. Some of the lower skips are not inherently dangerous, but they're crazy. And none of them want to go to jail, so the ability to protect yourself is a must."
I nodded. I suppose she's right. But I have no money to pay for any of that. I could talk to my dad, but I hate asking him for money.
"All right, thanks for the advice, Connie. I'll see what I can do."
I drove over to my parents' house, and for once, my mother and grandmother were not waiting on the stairs for me. Probably, they were out running errands. But my dad's car and taxi were both in the driveway, so I knocked on the front door perfunctorily before opening it.
"Hi, Dad," I said when I spotted him in his recliner, watching sports on the TV.
"Hi, Pumpkin," he answered, smiling at me. "Your mother and grandmother went to Giovicchini's."
"It's okay. I'm here to see you, actually."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I was wondering if I could borrow your gun for a little while."
He frowned. "What's going on, Pumpkin? Why do you need a gun?"
I took a deep breath. "Well, the filing clerk job at Vinnie's wasn't available. His bounty hunter is recovering from a ruptured appendix for the next few weeks. So, I took that job temporarily until I could find something better. Connie, the office manager, said I should get a gun or stun gun, and I don't have any money to buy either."
He smiled. "Sure, pumpkin, I'd happily loan you one of my guns. Have you thought about learning some self-defence, too?" he asked.
"One of your guns? How many do you have?" I asked curiously.
"Two. I usually carry one on me and hide one in the taxi. I can carry one and let you use the one from the taxi. It's pretty easy to use; I don't think you'll have any problems with it."
"Oh, okay. Thanks, Daddy. As for the self-defence lessons, that's probably a good idea. But I can't afford a gym right now, and I don't know anyone who can teach me."
"I know someone who could teach you if you let me ask. They work at a security company, and the building has a gym. I know some of the employees because their parents grew up in the 'Burg. You probably know them too, but you may not know where they work."
"Oh? Who are you talking about?" I asked.
"Joe Morelli, the owner of Morelli Securities. He moved here a couple of years ago, and he's done some bond apprehension work for both Vinnie and the other bond office in Trenton, but he only does the high bonds these days. You probably went to school with some of his employees. Do you remember Big Dog or Carl Costanza? They both work for him, and they grew up here. Oh, and Eddie Gazarra works there, too."
I thought about it. "Yeah, I do remember both of them. Eddie works there? I thought he was in the Navy or something." Eddie Gazarra was married to my cousin, a whiny woman named Shirley, who kept up with the pulse of the 'Burg, passing along information like it was her job or something. I tried to avoid her because I didn't want to be the subject of conversation.
He nodded. "They were all in the military. That's how they met Morelli. All have retired, though, and Morelli started this security company with them. Let me call and see if any of them would be willing to teach you some things, okay? They've done that job before, so they know what you'd need to learn."
"Okay. Thanks, Dad."
He called Eddie, who said he'd love to help me train, but he'd have to check with their boss before bringing me to the building. He promised to call me later, and my dad gave him my home number.
After he hung up, he asked, "Pumpkin, don't you have a cell phone anymore?"
"No. I had to get rid of it. I couldn't afford the monthly bill."
He sighed. "Pumpkin, I wish you had told your mother and me how hard it's been. I never would have wanted you to go without as much as you seem to have been. Are you okay? Eating? You're not going to lose your apartment, are you?"
"I'm eating. I eat here. Mom packs me leftovers that tide me over until I come back for dinner the next night. It's almost like I live here, except I have my own bathroom and don't need to fight you or Grandma for it in the morning." I smiled. "Connie gave me a file, and my cut is worth fifty thousand dollars. If I can bring him in, it'll go a long way to fixing my financial problems. Then I can find a different job when the regular guy returns to work."
He stood and patted his pockets in a searching way. "Pumpkin, I'm taking you to get a cell phone. We can put you on our family plan. You need a phone with you for safety." He took my elbow and guided me toward the front door before propelling me outside. He followed, locked the door behind him, and we got into his Buick. He drove to the mall, and we walked until we found the kiosk that sold cell phones for his carrier.
Twenty minutes later, over my protestations, I was the proud owner of last year's iPhone with a brand new number. I didn't care about the phone not being the latest model; it was several steps over what I had before I had to give up my old phone. "Thanks, Dad. You didn't have to do this, but I'm relieved to have it. I can pay you back."
"No need, Pumpkin. I'm happy to help my favourite daughter." He winked and laughed as he said that. He was trying to make me think he was joking, but I knew he and my mom each had their favourite child. My sister's a lot like my mom, and she prefers Valerie's company over mine. I'm more like my dad, though my grandma and I share personality traits that neither of my parents possess.
We got back into the car to head back to his house, and when we arrived, he said, "Come over later for dinner. And please promise to tell me if you need help, okay? I'm your father, and I will always help you."
I hugged him, then turned to get into Big Blue, but he nabbed my wrist and said, "Aren't you forgetting something?"
I furrowed my brow, and he smiled. "The gun. Let me get it for you before you go. Do you remember how to use it or need a refresher?"
I sighed. I hated guns, even though my dad made sure my sister and I were comfortable with them growing up. "No, Dad, no refresher. I remember." He handed me the gun he had just retrieved from his taxi, making me promise to carry it loaded. To that end, he handed me a full box of ammo, too. I put both the gun and the ammo in my purse and thanked him, then smiled and climbed into Big Blue. I motored away, simultaneously ashamed that it had come to needing my dad to help and grateful that he was willing and able to do so.
Eddie called me later that day with the news that his boss said it was okay for him and Carl to use the gym to teach me self-defence. However, his boss, this Joe Morelli guy, wanted to meet me since I was a new bounty hunter on the scene.
We arranged for me to come to their building on Haywood Street the following morning at six o'clock.
"Six a.m.? Like, in the morning?" I squeaked. I am so not a morning person. As far as I'm concerned, the only six o'clock that should occur is the one around dinner time.
He laughed down the line. "Yeah, Steph. Six a.m. in the morning. Just park out front, and I'll meet you in the lobby."
I agreed and set the alarm on my new phone, shaking my head in disbelief that I had agreed to this.
For the rest of the afternoon, I practiced my stern face in the mirror and what I'd say when I met with my FTA to take him to the police station. At five-thirty, I started driving over to my parents' house, happy that I'd be early for once, and my mom couldn't blame me for the Friday night standard meal of pot roast drying out.
When I saw the dining room, I noted five place settings and groaned. "Mom, who is coming for dinner?"
She chided, "Don't be like that, Stephanie. You've been divorced for two years now. You need to move on and find someone new."
"Mom, I don't want someone new. I am happy being single right now. I don't need your help with this."
She rolled her eyes. "Stephanie, don't you want to be married and have children? Your sister has been happily married for years and has two beautiful daughters."
"No, Mom. I do not want that right now. Maybe not ever. I expect you to respect that. It's my choice."
"Fine. But he's already been invited for dinner, and I expect you to be pleasant to him."
"Fine. That I can do."
The best part of dinner was the dessert. My mom made my favourite, a pineapple upside-down cake. Bernie Kuntz, the man my mom invited, was an appliance salesman she met while shopping for a new iron. He was nice but boring and not someone with whom I could see a future. At the end of the evening, he asked me if I'd like to get some coffee with him, but I told him I had to get home to Rex. I neglected to say who Rex was, but he looked disappointed, and hopefully, he assumed it was my boyfriend. He didn't need to know Rex is my hamster. I thanked Mom for dinner and took home the customary bag of leftovers. She was not as pushy during dinner as she sometimes has been, so I'm hoping she'll leave me alone about finding a boyfriend.
