“Sorry, fella,” Morelli said. “That's what happens when you get fat.”
I sucked my stomach in, feeling guilty about the danish. Compared to Morelli I was a cow. Morelli had washboard abs. Morelli could actually do sit-ups. Lots of them. In my mind's eye I could do sit-ups, too. In real life, sit-ups ran a close second to the joy of jogging.
Stephanie Plum 7 - Seven Up
12
EDDIE DECHOOCH HAD Grandma stashed someplace. Probably not in the Burg because I would have heard something by now. Somewhere in the Trenton area. Both phone-in locations were local.
Joe had promised not to file a report, but I knew he'd work undercover. He'd ask questions and he'd have cops out there looking a lot harder for Eddie DeChooch. Connie and Vinnie and Lula were tapping their sources, too. I didn't expect anything to come of it. Eddie DeChooch was working alone. He might visit with Father Carolli once in a while. And he might be drawn to the occasional wake. But he was out there alone. I was convinced no one knew his lair. With the possible exception of Mary Maggie Mason.
For whatever reason, two days ago, DeChooch had come to call on Mary Maggie.
I picked Lula up at the office, and we motored off to Mary Maggie's condo building. It was midmorning and traffic was light. Clouds were coagulating overhead. Rain was expected later today. No one in Jersey gave a rat's ass. It was Thursday. Let it rain. In Jersey we cared about weekend weather.
The Low Rider rumbled in the underground garage, the vibrations bouncing off the cement ceiling and floor. We didn't see the white Cadillac, but the MMM-YUM silver Porsche was occupying its usual slot. I parked the Harley two lanes over.
Lula and I looked at each other. We didn't want to go upstairs.
“I feel funny about talking to Mary Maggie,” I said. “That mud thing wasn't exactly a moment of shining glory for one.”
“It was all her fault. She started it.”
“I could have done better, but I was caught by surprise,” I said.
“Yeah,” Lula said. “I could tell that by the way you kept yelling help. I just hope she doesn't want to sue me for a broken back or something.”
We got to Mary Maggie's door and we both turned quiet. I took a deep breath and rang the bell. Mary Maggie opened her door, and the instant she saw us she tried to slam the door closed. Bounty hunter rule number two—if a door opens, get your boot in there fast.
“Now what?” Mary Maggie said, struggling to get my boot out of the way.
“I want to talk to you.”
“You've already talked to me.”
“I need to talk to you again. Eddie DeChooch kidnapped my grandmother.”
Mary Maggie stopped struggling and looked out at me. “Are you serious?”
“I have something he wants. And now he has someone I want.”
“I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”
“I was hoping you could help me find her.”
Mary Maggie opened her door and Lula and I invited ourselves in. I didn't think I'd find Grandma tucked away in a closet, but I had to look anyway. The apartment was nice but not that large. Open floor plan living room and dining room and kitchen. One bedroom. Bath and a half. It was tastefully furnished with classic pieces. Soft colors. Grays and beiges. And of course there were books everywhere.
“I honestly don't know where he is,” Mary Maggie said. “He asked to borrow my car. He's done it before. When the owner of the club asks to borrow something it's a good idea to loan it to him. And besides, he's a nice old man. After you were here I went to his nephew and told him I wanted my car back. Eddie was bringing it back when you and your friend ambushed him in my garage. I haven't heard from him since.”
The bad news was that I believed her. The good news was that Ronald DeChooch communicates with his uncle.
“Sorry about your shoe,” Mary Maggie said to Lula. “We looked for it, but we couldn't find it.”
“Hunh,” Lula said.
Lula and I didn't talk until we got to the garage.
“What do you think?” Lula asked.