22 Caliber - A Stephanie Plum-inspired Story

Chapter Two

I dropped Lula off at the office and headed to Pino's. Morelli was already in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He got up, gave me a quick kiss and sat down again.

"You've had me curious all morning. Is this a business meeting or personal?" I asked.

"Personal for me, business for you" Morelli answered. He still didn't look happy. His brown eyes were cop eyes, hard and assessing; his brown hair – a week past due for a cut – was disheveled; his body language was tight and closed.

"I have a problem. Remember how Mario was arrested for possession of stolen property?" Mario was Morelli's brother and like all Morelli men – with the exception of Joe – Mario was a charming jerk. Always womanizing, mostly alcoholic, periodically abusive and as lazy as they came. Morelli men were the scourge of the neighborhood. Yet for some reason Morelli women put up with them. Morelli women were known to be saints; Morelli men were known to consort with the devil.

I nodded. Mario was accused of stealing a truck-load of TVs. Apparently one night, while drunk, he and another as-yet-uncaught person were walking past a truck unloading televisions into a store. Mario got into the truck and drove it away while the store employees were unloading the boxes. The only problem was they didn't close the tailgate of the truck. One of the store employees was still in the back of the truck when it started to move and, when the truck was stopped at a red light, the employee ran out of the truck up to the driver's door and pulled Mario out from behind the wheel. The employee made a citizen's arrest while the accomplice got away.

"Mario was bonded out by Vinnie. My mom put her house up for collateral. His court date comes up in five days."

We stopped talking to order. When the waitress left, Morelli continued. "Mario is gone. He disappeared a week ago. No one knows where he is."

This was bad news. Not only could Mario be in trouble, but if Mario wasn't found, Vinnie could be in the position where he had to take possession of the house. This would upset the whole Morelli family and would leave Joe's parents and Grandma Bella out on the street. The ramifications were heart-stopping. While no one liked to oust someone from their home in order to repay the bond, definitely no one ever wanted to upset Grandma Bella. Sicilian by birth, she had become more Sicilian the longer she lived in the United States. A short scarecrow of a woman with gray hair, a black wardrobe and chin whiskers, she was purported to have the power to cast the "eye" – Sicilian voodoo to which all sorts of calamites were attributed. After being cursed by the eye people have had all their hair fall out, broken out in hives and lost the ability to sustain an erection. People and dogs have been known to cross the street to avoid Grandma Bella.

I didn't think I really believed in the eye. But my own run-ins with Grandma Bella and being the recipient of the eye a few times made me question my beliefs. After all, if it wasn't the eye, why did I get those big boil-sized zits? Why was my period late? But as much as I hate it and try to avoid it, I have somewhat accepted I will continue to be on the receiving end of the eye. Simply put, Grandma Bella hates me.

And now I was faced with having to step on Grandma Bella's toes in order to find Mario. Could this day get any worse?

Our meatball subs came to the table. "I can't look for him in any official capacity. I don't have time. I pulled a double homicide this morning down on Stark Street. I'll help you in any way I can but I'm not sure how much more I can do. I've already talked to the family and no one has seen him. I don't know what my brother is thinking but I definitely don't want my parents and grandmother out on the street."

Neither did I.

As lunch ended, I got a call from Vinnie asking me to hurry back to the office. He sounded frantic. I drove back, and parked my dented and rusty 10-year old Honda Civic in front of the office window. A new black 911 Porsche Turbo slid into the spot behind me. Ricardo Carlos Manosa, aka Ranger, angled out. Former Special Forces, Ranger was my one-time mentor, periodic partner and over-protective friend. At six inches greater than my 5'7" height, dressed in habitual black, he was all mocha latte goodness on the outside and strong moral code within. The fact the code didn't always follow standard laws was irrelevant – he was the strongest person I knew both in and out. A Cuban-American, he had short dark brown hair and heart-melting brown eyes I knew from experience dilated to black when aroused. He smiled rarely, talked minimally and always lived with his back to the wall. He was the other man in my life.

Ranger and I shared an attraction we skated around, periodically coming together when the stars aligned and we let our guard down. But while we both privately acknowledged a more intimate relationship would be explosive, intense and magical, my traditional Catholic upbringing conflicted with his need to avoid personal commitments. Ranger had a past and his first priority was and would always be to try to repair his karma.

"Babe."

"Babe" could mean a lot of things to Ranger. It could mean, "you are amusing me." Or it could be a form of foreplay. It could be said in exasperation or, in this case, it could simply mean "I missed you." Ranger pulled me around the corner of the building. He gave me a kiss. Our tongues met and my toes curled. Instinctively I leaned into him and had deepened the kiss when Vinnie came charging out of the office interrupting us. His weasel eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of their sockets. Ranger sighed.

"Thank God you're here! I need to speak to you both in private. Now!"

I preceded Ranger into Vinnie's office and Ranger shut the door.

"I have a problem", Vinnie bit out, "and I'll pay both of you to solve it." He paused to take a breath. "I'm being blackmailed. I don't know who is doing the blackmailing, just that I am to come up with one hundred thousand by Sunday or else a certain video will go public."

"What is the video of?" I asked.

"Without giving particulars, me, Joyce Barnhardt and a dog whose owner I met in my Sex Anonymous group."

Eeuww.

"Lucille will kill me if she finds out. Harry the Hammer will kill me if Lucille finds out. My life is ruined." Lucille is Vinnie's wife. Harry the Hammer is her father and is the owner of the bonds office. A former enforcer for the mob, Harry did not earn his nickname by his ability to perform carpentry work.

"The thing is, I don't know who knows about my activities. How could they do this to me? It's not like I advertised when I got together with anyone for a date."

"Are you sure they have a video and it's not just a hoax?" questioned Ranger.

"Yes, they emailed a copy to me at lunchtime today", replied Vinnie.

"I will need your email address and password information to see if I can track the sender down through Rangeman." Rangeman was Ranger's ultra-elite security company. Located in a seven-story secure office building in downtown Trenton with satellite offices in Boston, Atlanta and Miami, it more resembled the Batcave in technology and secrecy. While clients encompass Trenton's wealthy and famous, I recently have started to wonder whether more went on there than simple property protection.

"Please, whatever you can do to help. Just find the SOB and soon."

When it looked like the meeting was over, I cleared my throat. "Just to further complicate your life, Vinnie, it appears Mario Morelli has disappeared." I winced at Vinnie's roar.

"Disappeared?" The horror of what I said left Vinnie speechless and with a mottled face.

"He's got a few days until he has to show up for court, so it may work out okay" I said. Instinct told me Mario wasn't planning on coming back, but I tried to put a positive spin on it.

"It should have been a straightforward bond. His brother is a cop, for crying out loud! Could this day get any worse?"

"Nope", I thought. Robin Hood, Grandma Bella and blackmail. The trifecta of bad days.