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Heads Up

Despite circling several blocks and parking to watch for almost half an hour, I could not find any more hookers to talk to. A hooker two streets over was leaning in a window of a car, talking to a couple in the front seats. While I watched, a deal seemed to have been struck, and she climbed into the back seat. I guessed this was Lil' Inky? But there was no opportunity to talk to her.

I could sympathise with Lula, despite the chilly temperature, I was thirsty from standing out in the sun. I parked around the corner up from where Lula and Jackie worked and went into a small corner store to buy a coke. As I was about to go into the store, I looked down and saw Lula was now standing alone; Jackie had disappeared. I wondered if Lula might be more forthcoming if I went back now and took her a drink. I decided to buy two bottles of coke.

When I went back to the street, I saw Lula still standing there alone. I carried my bottles of coke up to her and handed her one. She smiled at me and thanked me. She took a long pull of the coke, enjoying the refreshing drink. I asked where Jackie was, and Lula shrugged, "Got a customer," she said.

Lula eyed me shrewdly as she took another swallow, "You really knocked up?" she asked. "Cause I don't buy it. You seem like ya got another reason you out here."

I looked at her, "I'm really trying to find Carmen," I said cautiously. "I've been looking for Joe Morelli too." This was not a lie; I just didn't say we had caught him.

"Why?" she asked bluntly. "Whadda ya want them for?

I felt really conflicted. I had promised Carlos I would stick to my story, but there was something telling me I could trust Lula. She was forthright and brash, but she had genuine concern for her friends. I decided to tell her, at least some of the story. I sighed, "Joe Morelli is FTA; failure to appear at court. And I work for the bond agency. Plus, nobody's seen Carmen for weeks and I thought Morelli might be with her or looking for her." Again, I was skirting around the full truth, but I was determined to keep my promise to Carlos and not mention Ramirez at all.

Lula looked curious, "You a bounty hunter? Cool!" she exclaimed.

"Shh," I begged her, looking around. "I'm trying to stay under the radar here. Please stick to my first story if anyone asks why I was talking to you. And anyway, I'm not really a bounty hunter. There are lots of big, burly guys in the company I work for who do the actual bounty huntering. I just kinda do the research and try and find the skips."

Lula still looked mildly impressed. "Still kinda cool," she said. Her expression sobered then, "Like I said, I ain't seen Carmen in weeks. Not since the shooting at her apartment. Night before, Benito Ramirez comes and gets her. Well, he sent his goon, that Kulesca fool who got shot. But everyone knows he was takin' her to Ramirez. Nobody says no to Ramirez," she said bitterly. "He wants ya, you go."

I said carefully, "According to the police report, she called Morelli from her own apartment, so she must have left Ramirez at some point."

Lula looked at me sceptically, "I guess. Don' mean she was ok when she left though, does it? Ramirez got a reputation, and I've seen it's true. I'm wonderin' why she was callin' the cop," she said flatly. She looked away and her expression was tense, "Ramirez don' like big girls, like me, so he don' come for me. He like skinny pussy, like Carmen. But I still seen what he do."

I didn't know what to say. Eventually I said, very quietly, "I promised my boyfriend I wouldn't go within miles of Ramirez. And I don't want Ramirez ever thinking I'm looking for him. And I'm not. I'm honestly looking for Carmen."

Lula looked at me consideringly, "I hope you find her. For her sake, ya know? I hope she ok. I won' say nuthin' to anyone, and I won' let it get back to Ramirez." She promised.

I handed her a business card, "My name is really Steph. Stephanie Plum. Please call me if you see Carmen or if you hear anything might help me find her." I thought for a moment, then dug in my bag for a different card that I handed to her as well, "If you ever need bail, call this bond agency," I told her. I hesitated then, "They're looking for a file clerk at the Bond's agency," I went on, tentatively. "If you ever think you want to get off the streets, you could apply."

Lula's brow furrowed, "Why would they hire me? Why would they want a 'ho?" she challenged.

I smiled slightly, "Connie Risolli, the office manager, is a really good person. She wouldn't judge you on your background. And Vinnie is probably more perverted than most of your customers. He doesn't have any right to judge anyone for anything."

"Vinnie?" she asked.

"Vincent Plum," I pointed to the card. "He owns the bond company. But he's a perverted weasel."

Lula choked slightly, "I've heard of him," she sniggered. "Yeah, he a pervert alright."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah well, please don't judge the rest of my family by him. He's the diseased branch on the family tree." Lula sniggered again. I looked around, realising I'd been here too long. I needed to get going. "Call Connie," I reiterated, "if you want to, of course. But I think you'd fit in at the office, and you wouldn't take any of Vinnie's shit, so that's all good."

Lula laughed, "Ya got that right, girlfriend!"

I waved goodbye as I left. I didn't know if Lula would take me up on my suggestion, but I hoped she would. Lula seemed like a decent person. She'd obviously had a rough life, I could see it in the wariness and cynicism in her eyes, but she was genuinely concerned for Carmen, and I thought she could make more of herself, if she chose. It was up to her, though. I'd done my best.

We had agreed that, after I had left the area, I would not draw any attention by contacting the other Rangemen there. I drove slowly back to the office, slightly disappointed that I had not got any solid leads or new information from talking to Lula and Jackie. I guess we knew that Carmen had definitely been with Ramirez that night, but that didn't seem to get us much further.

I drove past an appliance store as I was making my way back to the office. I remembered that we had not bought a blender, and I had wanted one to make frozen Margaritas the other night. I saw a convenient parking spot and pulled in. I made my way over the appliance store. It was something of a mom-and-pop store, called Kuntz Appliances. I had gone to school with Bernie Kuntz, and his father owned the store. I had heard that Bernie had gone straight to work there from high school, continuing the tradition. I saw a man that could only be Bernie Kuntz, rotund, balding, and doughy, pricing alarm clocks with a sticker gun. He looked like he was the epitome of a Burg man. Staid, semi-successful, boring. Just the sort of guy my mom would set me up with. Sigh.

I walked up to him, "Hi Bernie," I said cheerfully, "It's Stephanie Plum. We went to school together. How are you?"

He smiled at me, "Hi Stephanie," he replied, "of course I remember you. You were the prettiest girl in the class." His smile was gooey, and he reached out to shake my hand. His hand was moist and soft, and I had to refrain from drawing back in horror when I felt his touch linger. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I was looking for a blender," I answered, trying to remain polite and friendly without giving any 'interested' vibes, "something reliable that can crush ice."

He nodded and led me over to a shelf with three different models on it. He pointed to one, "This one is your basic model, cheap and mostly reliable. Good enough for most things." The sticker said it was fifteen dollars. He pointed to the next one, with a price of twenty-two dollars, "This one is slightly better model," he opined, "probably last a bit longer and work a bit harder." He pointed to the last model, with a significant price jump of forty-five dollars. "This one is top of the line. It'll crush rocks and last for years. I know it's more expensive, but it's probably worth it." He smiled at me again.

I nodded. I was tempted to opt for the cheapest model, just to disappoint Bernie, but I was concerned it would be cutting off my nose to spite my face. I was used to being pretty thrifty, but I didn't need to buy cheap anymore, and this was an easy investment. I pointed to the top-of-the-line model, "I'll take it." He picked up a box from the shelf underneath the displays and led the way over to the register.

He seemed to gather his courage and try again as he handed me my change and receipt, "Be sure and come back if you need anything else," he tried to smile winningly, but it just looked strange to me. "And enjoy your blender. Let me know if it makes good drinks," he hinted.

"Oh, thank you, I will," I re-joined with my own gentle smile, "I'm going to make my boyfriend and me some frozen Margaritas tonight!" Bernie's smile dimmed noticeably, and he gave me a sad nod.

I turned toward the door, and a flash of movement caught my eye through the large picture window at the front of the store. A thin, gangly man was unloading a blue plastic barrel from a refrigerated truck parked in a laneway beside the butcher's shop opposite Kuntz Appliances. Sal's Butcher. Another mom-and-pop store. Although if the rumours were true, Sal made more book than roasts. Still, he was fairly well respected. As a bookie.

I watched with a faint frown through the window, wondering for a moment what had caught my eye, until I saw the refrigerated truck guy's face. Flattened features, round face, broken nose. Louis Moon! I had found him!

I left the appliance store, walked slowly up to my car, and unlocked it to deposit my new blender on the back seat. What should I do now? I couldn't apprehend Moon myself; I had no cuffs or gun. Not to mention no authority to detain him. He wasn't FTA. I got into my car and pulled out my cell phone. I tried to call Carlos, but it went to voicemail. I remembered he had had a meeting at one o'clock with a solicitor about the building permits. I looked at my watch, eleven-twenty. Damn. I tried to call Bobby next, but he didn't answer his phone. I didn't have Tank's cell phone number and I wouldn't be able to communicate what was going on to Hector. I tried to think of the Spanish for "I found the witness" but my mind was blank. I didn't think I had learned anything even vaguely like that. I could call the safe house, but I didn't think Manny would know what to do either, and I wasn't going to get Morelli involved. I didn't want Morelli helping me or guarding my back. And I knew if Morelli left the safe house, even with Manny in tow, Carlos would kill me.

I wondered if I went into Sal's Butcher would it be too obvious? Would he recognise me? Know my connection to Morelli's case? Surely not. I hadn't been out on the streets looking for Louis Moon. I was hesitating over going into the butcher's shop to see what I could see, when the back door opened again, and Moon reappeared, wheeling another barrel on a dolly. From the way he manoeuvred it into the truck, it looked pretty heavy. Why would he be wheeling out full barrels? What was in the barrels? What do you take away from a butcher shop in refrigerated barrels? Moon went back in with his empty dolly again, and I waited for a few more minutes until he emerged once more with another barrel, looking equally full. He loaded it into the truck, secured the dolly, and shut the back door.

What to do? What to do? Moon went around to the driver's door and got in. Something was telling me really strongly to follow him, but should I? Morelli's Jeep Cherokee was not really inconspicuous. It was cherry red and shiny-new. I tried Bobby's phone again. Still no answer. Moon pulled out and started slowly down the street. I dithered for another few moments or so, before deciding I would have to follow him. I couldn't lose this lead!

It wasn't too hard at first. Traffic was moderate and I stayed several cars back, carefully following. Moon was driving carefully as well; I was not sure why, but maybe not to tip over the barrels in the back. What was in the barrels? I stayed two cars back. The refrigerated truck was large and easy to track, even in the traffic. We started to head out of town south and turned onto route 206. Traffic was a little lighter, but still okay to stay relatively hidden. I dropped back as far as I could while still keeping him in sight. Just before Hammonton, he turned east, heading toward the coast on a narrower road.

The countryside became more rural, farms and patches of forest; we travelled the side road for about another twenty minutes. I knew vaguely we were heading to the north of Atlantic City, but I hoped we would not end up in the city. I wasn't that comfortable of my tailing skills to say I could navigate an unfamiliar city and keep the ordinary-looking truck in sight. Traffic had thinned considerably, and it was harder to hide. I dropped back even farther, hoping to be able to remain incognito. I could just see the truck in the distance, and I concentrated hard to keep him in just barely in sight. I could feel the tension growing in my neck and shoulders, and I hoped I was not being foolishly impulsive in following Moon like this. But we needed this lead! We needed to find out what was going on!

I was desperate to try and call Carlos and Bobby again, but I needed all my concentration on the road and the tail. I glanced at the car phone. I knew it could be used hands-free with a built-in speaker, but I had no idea how to do it. I had never used a car phone. I needed to stop to call, but I doubted I would be able to find Moon again, if I lost sight of him.

I had to move a little closer as he turned off again, heading toward Mullaca River. The road had become more twisty, and I was struggling to keep him in sight. Finally, I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw the truck up ahead, and it turned into a Marina on an inlet. This looked more geared to fishing boats and small boats, rather than leisure boats or yachts. It was very quiet, and I guessed it got busier on the weekends. I slowed and drove carefully past the entrance, noting that Moon had parked the refrigerated truck, and walked into the Marina office. I considered parking nearby but I did not want to be seen.

I drove about a quarter of a mile further up the side road, but it dead-ended at the river. I couldn't wait here since I would not know when Moon left again. I drove back, passing the Marina and drove back to a gas station I had seen at the entrance to the side road when we turned off. I figured since the road dead ended, I would be able to see Moon again, when he came back. And it was an inconspicuous place to stop and phone for help. I parked at the side of the gas station, in the shadow of the building, and faced the Jeep toward the road. I reached for my cell phone and grunted in annoyance when I saw I had no cell signal. Obviously, this was too far off the grid. Damn.

There was a public phone beside the gas station. I had not used a public phone in ages, but at least it would have a signal. I was rooting around in my bag for change to use the public phone when Morelli's car phone caught my eye. I wondered if it might work here? After all it had a larger antenna on the outside of the car; it might get a signal. I picked it up. Nothing. Double damn. In wondered if it made a difference if the car was switch on? I restarted the car and picked up the handset cautiously. Sure enough, a signal. I got my cell phone back out and looked up Carlos' cell number, as I didn't have it memorised. I dialled it on the car phone and listened, holding my breath, while it rang several times. Finally, an answer came, "Yo."

"Carlos," I breathed in relief, "I need help! I've found Louis Moon!"

Please read and review if you can. Steph is still walking the fine balance between her usual impulsive "dive in head-first" nature and her desire to do better. I hope I am getting it right.

In OFTM, Morelli's Jeep had a car phone. I have a vague memory from decades ago that car phones only worked when car was running (never actually saw one, not a big thing in Australia). Despite a couple of hours of research, I couldn't confirm or refute it. If I'm wrong – well sorry. Put it down to fiction writing! :)