The last message was from Vinnie. “Congratulations, you got your grandmother back. And now I hear you got Mooner and Dougie back. Do you know who's missing? Eddie DeChooch. Remember him? He's the guy I want you to get back. He's the guy who's gonna bankrupt me if you don't drag his decrepit ass back to jail. He's old, for crissake. He's blind. He can't hear. He can't take a piss without help. And you can't catch him. What's the problem here?”
Crap. Eddie DeChooch. I'd actually forgotten about him. He was staying in a house somewhere. It had a garage that opened to a basement. And from the number of rooms Grandma had described it was a pretty big house. Nothing you'd find in the Burg. Nothing you'd find in Ronald's neighborhood, either. What else did I have. Zero. I had no idea how to find Eddie DeChooch. To tell the truth, I didn't even want to find Eddie DeChooch.
It was 4:00 A.M. and I was exhausted. I turned the ringer off on my phone, shuffled into my bedroom, crawled under the covers, and didn't wake up until two in the afternoon.
I HAD A movie in the VCR and a bowl of popcorn on my lap when my pager buzzed.
“Where are you?” Vinnie asked. “I called your house and nobody answered.”
“I have the ringer turned off on my phone. I need a day off.”
“Your day off is over. I just picked a call up on the police scanner,” Vinnie said. “A freight train coming out of Philly rammed a white Cadillac on the Deeter Street crossing. Only happened a few minutes ago. Sounds like the car's squash city. I want you to get down there pronto. With any luck there'll be something identifiable left from what used to be DeChooch.”
I looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was almost seven. Twenty-four hours ago I was in Richmond, getting ready to drive home. It was like a bad dream. Hard to believe.
I grabbed my bag and the bike keys and shoved what was left of a sandwich into my mouth. DeChooch wasn't my favorite person but I didn't necessarily want him run over by a train. On the other hand, it would make my life better. I rolled my eyes as I barreled through the lobby. I was going straight to hell for thinking a thought like that.
It took me twenty minutes to get to Deeter Street. Much of the area was blocked off by police cars and emergency vehicles. I parked three blocks away and walked the rest. Crime-scene tape was going up as I approached. Not so much to preserve the scene as to keep the gawkers back. I scanned the crowd for a familiar face, searching out someone who could get me inside. I spotted Carl Costanza, standing with several uniformed cops. They'd responded to the call and now were one step above the gawkers, looking at the wreck, shaking their heads. Chief Joe Juniak was with them.
I pushed my way through to Carl and Juniak, trying not to look too closely at the smashed car, not wanting to see severed limbs lying about.
“Hey,” Carl said when he saw me. “I've been expecting you. It's a white Cadillac. Used to be, anyway.”
“Has it been identified?”
“No. The plates aren't visible.”
“Anybody in the car?”
“Hard to tell. The car's only about two feet high. Got flipped over and compacted. The fire department has their infrared out, trying to detect body heat.”
I gave an involuntary shiver. “Ick.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. I was the second on the scene. I took one look at the Cadillac and my nuts went north.”
I couldn't see much of the car from where I was standing. That was fine by me now that I knew the extent of the destruction. It had been hit by a freight train and the train didn't look like it had sustained any damage. From what I could see it hadn't derailed.
“Has anyone called Mary Maggie Mason?” I asked. “If this is the car Eddie De
Chooch was driving, Mary Maggie is the owner.”
“I doubt anyone's called her,” Costanza said. “I don't think we're that organized yet.”
Somewhere in my possession was Mary Maggie's address and phone number. I pawed through the loose change, gum wrappers, nail file, breath mints, and other assorted flotsam that collects in the bottom of my bag and finally found what I was looking for.
Mary Maggie answered on the second ring.
“It's Stephanie Plum,” I told her. “Have you gotten your car back yet?”
“No.”
“There's been a train crash involving a white Cadillac. I thought you might want to get down here and see if you can ID the car.”
“Was anyone injured?”
“It's too early to tell. They're working on the wreckage now.”
I gave her the location and told her I'd look for her.