Takedown Twenty (Stephanie Plum 20)

“No. This is a Rangeman job with full compensation. I’d run through an active minefield before I’d willingly go to Bingo night at the Senior Center.”

I was afraid to ask what was included in full compensation. I suspected it might be the realization of all my sexual fantasies. This was pretty darn tempting, but it wouldn’t be smart.

Ranger walked me to my door. “What’s the word on Bingo?”

I wasn’t excited about Bingo. Been there, done that, and it wasn’t wonderful. In fact, I sucked at Bingo. And the regulars were gonzo Bingo players, working thirty cards at a time. I was lucky if I could keep track of three.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll go to Bingo.”

It wasn’t the paycheck or the promise of the doomsday orgasm that pushed me into the Bingo hall. It was the three dead women. The dead, discarded women nagged at me.

“You’re doing a lot of sighing,” Ranger said. “Is there a problem?”

“It’s complicated.”

Ranger unlocked my door, pulled me to him, and kissed me. The kiss started out gentle and finished with enough heat to raise the temperature in the hallway by ten degrees. Time stood still for a couple beats while we stared into each other’s eyes and contemplated the next step.

Ranger’s cellphone buzzed, he looked at the text message and punched in an answer. “That was from Tank,” he said. “The control room picked up a police communication. They just found a fourth woman in a Dumpster. I’m going to check it out. The Dumpster is in the center of Trenton.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. Not necessary. I’ll let you know what I find.”

SIX

I ROLLED OUT of bed at seven A.M., made coffee and took it into the shower with me. I got out of the shower, toweled off, and examined myself. No warts, no rash, no boils, no hemorrhoids. My hair hadn’t all fallen out during the night. My teeth weren’t rotting in my mouth. Not that I believed in Bella’s ability to give people the eye, but still it was good to confirm that nothing hideous had happened to me while I was sleeping.

It was a little after eight when I got to the office. Lula and Connie were already there. Connie was busy on the computer, and Lula was reading Star magazine. They both looked up when I walked in.

“Well?” Lula asked. “Did you get any?”

I set my messenger bag on the floor and sat in one of the uncomfortable orange plastic chairs in front of the desk. “That’s confidential information.”

“Hunh,” Lula said to Connie. “She didn’t get any.”

I glanced over at Lula. “It was a business meeting.”

“I wouldn’t care if it was a business meeting or a meeting of aliens,” Lula said. “That man is so hot I could butter him up and eat him like a ear of sweet corn.”

Connie choked on her coffee, and I worked hard not to squirm in my seat.

“So where did you go on this business meeting?” Lula asked me.

“We went to the Gillian viewing. Ranger’s been hired to investigate Melvina Gillian’s death.”

“They found another woman last night,” Connie said. “Rose Walchek. Seventy-six years old. Widow. She lived in one of those little row houses on Stanton Street, by the button factory.”

“Strangled?”

“It’s not confirmed, but it sounds like it.”

“It’s bad enough that these women are murdered,” I said, “but I hate that the killer throws them away.”

“I know just what y

ou mean,” Lula said. “It’s disrespectful. Least this guy could do is follow the mob’s example and take these women out to the landfill for a proper burial.”

The front door opened and Morelli limped in. He crooked his finger at me in one of those come here gestures. I followed him outside and around the corner of the building, where he stood hands on hips, staring at his shoes.