While trying to find Morelli's newest hiding spot, I decided to pick up the other skips. Connie had nothing to add to my file notes, so I was forced to call my husband for help. He chuckled and promised to have Silvio and Rodriguez examine Morelli's background. I was impatiently waiting for the intel. "It never used to take two days for Rodriguez to compile the details," I complained to Al. We were still communicating via the comm units. It made it easier for us to work without being seen together.
"That's because you're the one who uncovered the secrets," Al reminded me. He wasn't wrong. My specialty was finding tidbits concealed by our skips and other alphabet agency mission targets. "It's a shame you can't access Rangeman's programs."
"I can if I asked for a laptop," I replied. "But I think someone broke into my apartment two days ago. You know Rangeman only uses the top-of-the-line computers. I can't afford someone stealing the laptop from my home."
"Who would have done that?"
"My guess is Morelli because he entered through the bedroom window. Thank goodness I wasn't home or in bed sleeping. He would have received an extra hole in his head," I replied.
"Your husband would tear him limb from limb," Al said.
"Without looking dishevelled," I added with laughter. "I don't know how he does that. There's never a hair out of place. For some reason, I always end up looking worse for wear. I don't understand why he wanted to marry me."
"It wasn't so bad when you cut your hair," Al said. "You didn't have to worry about it hidden beneath your hat or helmet."
My husband loved my hair longer. He wouldn't be terribly upset if I cut it off as long as I left enough for him to grab during our intimate moments. I missed him and the children. Maybe I should get a laptop to conduct searches and video chat with Alex and Jillian.
"Stop thinking about having sex with your husband," Al warned.
"What makes you think I was imagining sex?" I questioned.
Al chuckled. "You moaned. It's your telltale sign," he replied.
"Oops," I giggled, feeling my face get hot from blushing. "Sorry." My husband was particularly good at sex. He was my first sexual partner, but I was his third. His first encounter was with a girl in Newark while he was with the gang. They never dated. He had two girlfriends in Miami. My husband had broken up with his girlfriend months before I met him during my family's vacation. We talked over the phone many times before getting together after his birthday. I was surprised he remained faithful to me. Our first time having sex was magical. My experience was nonexistent, but he assured me it was better than any previous encounter. He confessed to loving me at first sight, and I admitted that I had also fallen in love with him. What he loved the most was my wildly curly hair and no-nonsense attitude. He was proud of me for deciding to join the Army. I could tell he wanted to enlist with me but wanted to attend Rutgers since it would move him quickly through the ranks. His grandmother and parents paid for college. We had a whirlwind romance, which led us to the closest courthouse once I turned eighteen. I married young and never regretted a single moment.
"Fuck," I yelled.
"What on earth is that noise?" Al asked.
"That was my muffler falling off," I replied. "So much for being inconspicuous."
"Steph, that piece of crap car guaranteed you couldn't hide yourself. When did you get the intriguing paint job?" Al asked, laughing at the word 'pussy' painted in neon pink and green.
"It was like that after I visited Jimmy Alpha in the Stark Street Gym," I replied. "Why did it take you so long to notice?"
"I noticed after it happened. I didn't know how to broach the subject," Al reasoned.
"It doesn't bother me. Those punks had nothing better to do than to share their limited vocabulary," I said. "Not to mention their lack of creativity."
My phone rang, interrupting our conversation. Man, I loved the technology. Our comm units used our phones, but we could still accept and make calls. "I received the intel," my brother-in-law said.
"Wow. Okay. Where should we meet?" I asked, feeling slightly upset that my husband wasn't bringing me the intel I asked him to compile.
"I'll drop it at your apartment to review," he replied. I rolled my eyes and agreed. A five-year-old could pick the locks on my door. Heck, even I could pick the lock within two minutes.
"No," I said. "Someone broke into my apartment the other day. I don't want anything sensitive lying around on the counter or coffee table."
My brother-in-law growled, sounding much like my husband. "I'll install an alarm," he said. I rolled my eyes.
"Nothing in the apartment is worth securing," I replied. "It's a waste of money."
"What if someone breaks in during the night?" he challenged.
"They'll receive an extra hole in their head. I sleep with my Glock under my pillow," I replied.
"Good to know. Just spotted my skip," he said and hung up. I shook my head and couldn't help imagining how Helen would have reacted to someone ending the call without saying goodbye. In her opinion, proper etiquette dictated that you always have to say goodbye or talk to you later or something along those lines. That etiquette went against our military training. The two seconds wasted on those niceties could mean the difference between life and death.
"I have an idea," Al announced.
"Well? Are you planning to share your thoughts?" I sarcastically asked.
"Ask Connie if she has someone, besides me, who could help you capture Morelli," he suggested.
"Al, I don't need help. What is that supposed to accomplish?"
"Steph, it will help establish your cover, and maybe we'll get the intel without tipping off our targets," Al replied. He had a point.
"I really hate to admit this, but you're right. Bringing in Clarence Sampson yesterday didn't really show I was incapable of doing my job. Should I visit Sunny's Gun Shop and buy another weapon? We can lock my Glock in a safe deposit box at Trenton's First National Bank," I said. I had a safe in my closet at home disguised as a shoe box. It held my clutch piece and my permits. There was enough room for my Glock; however, it would have been best if I had kept it safely hidden. I was supposed to be an incompetent bounty hunter. Carrying two guns and two knives wasn't part of the job.
"It's for the best," Al added. "Rangeman is opening a Trenton branch."
"When did you find out?" I asked.
"An hour ago. I had to sign the paperwork," Al replied, explaining why he turned off his comm unit earlier. "Ranger will have the documents filed with the state department by tomorrow morning. He can look for a building once the state and city approve his application."
"We both know they will approve. Ranger has a solid business plan, and the BEA department will help clean the streets of thugs and criminals," I said. Al gave a throaty sound of agreement. "Have you caught any ambulances?"
"One woman, Shaniqua Brown, claims a boxer assaulted her during their session," Al replied. "She was beat up pretty bad."
"What boxer?" I asked.
"She's suing the boxer's owner, Jimmy Alpha. Don't worry, it isn't Ramirez," Al replied. "Ramirez is one sick bastard. Don't get on his radar."
"Noted," I replied, despite knowing it was already too late. I felt the boxer and Morelli watching me while I questioned Lula and Jackie yesterday. Ramirez was likely looking out the window, keeping an eye on his whores. I wondered if Lula was one of his favourite playmates. She seemed to be nervous while talking to me. Jackie warned Lula many times to remain quiet and not get involved.
"I have to meet my client," Al stated, turning off his comm unit. He would turn it back on after meeting with Shaniqua Brown. I wondered how he was allowed to practice law in New Jersey. His license only covered North Carolina, Florida and Georgia. Every state had different bar requirements to practice in their state. Albert wrote the bar exams in Florida and Georgia to practice corporate and criminal law. He was Rangeman's best lawyer. Our friend, Jerome Parker, would manage the Rangeman requirements during Albert's absence. He was a competent man who worked in our Miami office with Al.
We had another lawyer in Atlanta who, in my opinion, wasn't as brilliant as Albert. This mission must be hell on Al because he had to be the bumbling idiot I met in basic training. He had to dig deep for that man. It was kind of like I had to pretend I didn't know how to apprehend Morelli. But that had more to do with him leading us to our undetermined target than my inability to cuff him.
I drove to the bank on Hamilton. It wasn't too far from the bonds office and the branch Dad used to set up my account for the mission. I stepped inside and noticed they had upgraded the lobby while everything else remained the same. My cousin Jeanine, from Dad's side of the family, was standing at the counter. She finished helping a customer, who from the back was the same height as Helen Mazur. I hoped it wasn't my birth mother. We don't get along. She wasn't happy I married a Cuban-American. I never understood why it mattered.
The woman turned to see who grabbed Jeanine's attention. It was my mother. I sucked in a deep breath and steeled myself for an uncomfortable confrontation. Helen politely thanked Jeanine for helping her. Mom sneered as she walked towards me. She glanced at my left hand and grinned. I wasn't wearing my wedding band because of my mission. Nobody was supposed to know I was married. It was the downside of not being undercover as a married woman. Too bad my husband wasn't my partner. Why did the DEA request previous Trenton residents to lead the mission? Wouldn't it have been better to have skilled men on the team?
"I see you got divorced," Mom snapped. It was part of my role. I had to pretend I was a divorced and desperate woman. Because of my husband's nationality, Mom never told anyone who I married. After all, it was an embarrassment to have her daughter marry a man who wasn't Italian or Hungarian. I don't miss her or the "What would the neighbours think?" mantra she spouted whenever she disapproved of my actions. Thank goodness Dad never made me visit the judgmental shrew. Grandma and Grandpa Mazur used to visit Valerie and me every summer. My grandma stopped travelling after Grandpa Harry died.
No. "Yes," I replied, pretending to be upset and praying she couldn't detect the lie. I got better at hiding my emotions. "I had to move here because I couldn't afford to stay in Miami without having a job." Helen searched my face for a telltale indication of deceit.
"You need to get married and settle down," Helen said, not detecting my lies. I raised my hands and stepped back. It wasn't because I was afraid of her but because I was afraid of drawing my gun and killing her on the spot.
"I don't want to get remarried or have children," I replied. Helen clicked her tongue in disgust.
"I expect you at dinner tonight. Six sharp," she demanded. I had a feeling Helen would invite an eligible bachelor to dinner. It was a shame I had to pretend I got divorced. Helen left before I could say no. With many Burg residents witnessing our conversation, I felt obligated to visit Helen and Grandma. I couldn't wait to see Grandma because I missed her.
"Hi, Steph," Jeanine greeted. "When did you get into town?"
"A few weeks ago. Um…I need a safe deposit box," I replied.
"Sure," Jeanine said. She motioned for another teller to assist customers since I needed to speak to the bank manager. I deposited the money from apprehending Clarence Sampson. It was only a few hundred dollars, but I needed a secured location for my favourite weapon. When I signed the paperwork, Jeanine said, "We'll debit your account on the first of each month for the rental. If you can't pay the fee, you have three days to make the payment before we make you collect your belongings."
"Sounds good," I replied. After removing the box from its case, Jeanine gave me a few minutes alone. I placed my gun inside the metal container and felt like crying. It was a necessary step. A white powdery substance was on the floor beneath the opposite wall of deposit boxes. I checked to ensure nobody was watching and collected a sample using the kit I kept in my purse. My curiosity was piqued. Who owned security boxes on that wall? There were over fifty, and it was nearly impossible to detect where the white powder came from.
"Are you done?" Jeanine asked as I slid my locked box into its place in the wall.
"I am. Thank you for helping me," I replied. Jeanine waved it off as part of her job.
I drove to the bonds office and found a spot behind a black Mercedes with tinted windows. My neck tingled, making me gasp. I tried to see who was driving, but it pulled away from the curb before I exited my car. After shaking the thoughts from my mind, I squared my shoulders and entered the bonds office to ask Connie for help.
"Hey, Steph. Have you found Morelli yet?" Connie asked.
"I did, but then I lost him again," I replied.
"That's too bad. What do you need?"
"More information on Morelli. Did you find out anything? Or do you know anyone who could help me?" I begged.
"Hmmm. I know a guy. He's new in town - and goes by the name Ranger. His real name is Ricardo Carlos Mañoso. He's ex-special ops and picks up the high-bond skips," Connie said, sounding like she found the man extremely attractive when she huskily mentioned his name. "I think he must wear lifts in his shoes. When I first met him, he was six feet tall but was around two inches shorter today."
I had to keep my face blank and not give anything away. "Do you think Ranger could help me?" I asked.
"Sure," she answered. "Let me call him." Connie dialled the number, but nobody answered. She received a call a few minutes later. "Do you know the cafe around the corner?"
"Yes, I remember it. Why?"
"Ranger will meet you there at two. If you're late, he'll leave," Connie replied.
"Thank you," I said, relieved to have some help. I hoped to receive the intel from the research, as my spidey sense indicated it would help Al and me crack open the case.
At one minute to two, I entered the cafe and rolled my eyes. I approached the man sitting in the back booth, watching the door. He grinned and winked. "Are you Stephanie Plum?" he asked.
"I am. Connie asked you to train me to be a bounty hunter," I said, trying not to laugh as if the man could train me to do anything better than him. "What do you know about Morelli?"
I listened as he gave me the intel he gathered on the streets and from the research I requested. It sounded like I had to question the boxer, Benito Ramirez, to figure out the missing clues. Something smelled, and it involved more people than our initial intel indicated.
"Stephanie, are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. Does my husband know you're impersonating him?" I countered. My neck tingled because my husband was close by.
"I do now," my husband replied, approaching from behind me.
My brother-in-law, Mateo, muttered, "Shit."
Ranger gently caressed my neck and leaned in to whisper, "I missed you, Babe."