One for the Money (Stephanie Plum 1)

I took a deep breath. “And you'll let me collect the finder's fee on you when we get the missing witness?”

“Absolutely.”

“You said Carmen was an informant. What sort of stuff was she informing about?”

“She sold whatever scraps came her way. Mostly low-level drug stuff and names of posse members. I don't know what she had for me when she called. I never got it.”

“Posse members?”

“Jamaican gang members. Striker is the parent posse, based in Philly. It's got its finger in every drug deal in Trenton. Striker makes the mob look like a bunch of pussies. They're bringing in shit faster than they can sell it, and we can't figure out how they get it here. We had twelve deaths from heroin overdose this summer. The stuff is so available the dealers aren't bothering to cut it down to the standard.”

“You think Carmen had information on Striker?”

Morelli stared at me for a few beats. “No,” he finally said. “I think she had something to tell me about Ramirez. She probably picked something up while she was with him.”

Stephanie Plum 1 - One for the Money

11

MY PHONE RANG AT SEVEN A.M. The machine got it, and I recognized Morelli's voice. “Rise and shine, Badass,” he said. “I'll be at your door in ten minutes to install equipment. Put the coffeepot on.”

I started the coffee, brushed my teeth, and pulled on running shorts and a shirt. Morelli arrived five minutes early, carrying a toolbox. His short-sleeved shirt had an official-looking patch on the pocket that suggested he worked for Long's Service.

“What's Long's Service?” I asked.

“It's anything you want it to be.”

'Ah hah,“ I said. ”A disguise."

He tossed his shades onto my kitchen counter and headed for the coffee. “People don't notice repairmen. They remember the color of the uniform and that's it. And if you do it right, a uniform'll get you into almost any building.”

I poured myself coffee and dialed the hospital for a progress report on Lula. I was told she was in stable condition and had been moved out of ICU.

“You need to talk to her,” Morelli said. “Make sure she presses charges. They picked Ramirez up last night and questioned him for aggravated sexual assault. He's out already. Released on his own recognizance.”

He put his coffee down, opened the toolbox, and took out a small screwdriver and two plates for covering electrical outlets. “These look like ordinary wall plugs,” he said, “but they have listening devices built in. I like to use them because they don't require battery replacement. They run off your wires. They're very dependable.”

He took the plate off my hall outlet and clamped off wires, working with rubber-tipped pliers. “I have the ability to listen and record from the van. If Ramirez breaks in, or if he shows up at your door, you're going to have to go with your instincts. If you think you can engage him in conversation and pull information out of him without endangering yourself, you should give it a shot.”

He finished up in the foyer and moved on to the bedroom, repeating the procedure. “Two things you need to remember. If you play the radio, I can't hear what's going on up here. And if I have to break in, it's most likely going to be through your bedroom window. So leave your curtains closed to give me some cover.”

“You think it'll come to that?”

“I hope not. Try to get Ramirez to talk on the phone. And remember to record.” He put the screwdriver back in the box and took out a roll of surgical tape and a small plastic case about the size of a pack of gum. “This is a miniature body transmitter. It's got two nine-volt lithium batteries in it, which gives you fifteen hours of usable operating time. It has an external electric microphone, it weighs seven ounces, and it costs about $1200. Don't lose it and don't wear it in the shower.”

“Maybe Ramirez will be on good behavior now that he's been charged with assault.”

“I'm not sure Ramirez knows good from bad.”

“What's the plan for the day?”

“I thought we'd put you back on Stark Street. Now that you don't have to worry about driving me crazy, you can concentrate on driving Ramirez crazy. Push him into making another move.”

“Gosh, Stark Street. My favorite place. What am I supposed to do there?”

“Stroll around and look sexy, ask annoying questions, in general get on everyone's nerves. All those things that come naturally to you.”

“You know Jimmy Alpha?”