Seven Up (Stephanie Plum 7)

And then he left. He closed the door behind him, and I could hear him walk partway down the hall and enter his own room.

Yikes.

I stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, lights on, eyes wide. When my heart stopped hammering in my chest and my nipples started to relax I got up and splashed water on my face. I set the alarm for eight. Yippee, four hours to sleep. I turned the light out and crawled into bed. Couldn't sleep. Too many clothes. I got up and stripped down to my panties and crawled into bed. Nope, couldn't sleep that way, either. Not enough clothes. I put my shirt back on, crawled back under the covers, and instantly clonked off to dreamland.

WHEN RANGER KNOCKED on my door at eight-thirty I was as ready as I was going to get. I'd taken a shower and done the best I could with my hair in the absence of gel. I carry a lot of stuff in my bag. Who would have thought I'd need gel.

Ranger had coffee and fruit and a whole-grain bagel for breakfast. I had an Egg McMuffin, a chocolate shake, and breakfast fries. Plus Ranger was treating so I got a Disney action figure.

It was warmer in Richmond than it had been in Jersey. Some of the trees and early azaleas were flowering. The sky was clear and struggling to be blue. It was going to be a good day for bullying a couple old ladies.

Traffic was heavy on the major roads but disappeared the instant we entered Louie D's neighborhood. School buses had come and gone, and the adult inhabitants were off to yoga class, the gourmet market, the tennis club, Gymboree, and work. The neighborhood had a lived-in, get-up-and-go feel this morning. With the exception of Louie D's house. Louie D's house looked exactly as it had at 3:00 A.M. Dark and still.

Ranger called Tank and was told Ronald left his house at eight with the cooler. Tank had followed him south to Whitehorse and then turned back once he was certain Ronald was on his way to Richmond.

“So what do you think of the house?” I asked Ranger.

“I think it looks like it has a secret.”

We both got out of the car and walked to the door. Ranger rang the bell. After a moment the door was opened by a woman in her early sixties. Her brown hair was cut short and framed a long, narrow face dominated by thick black eyebrows. She was dressed in black. Black shirtwaist dress on her small, wiry frame, black cardigan sweater, black loafers, and dark stockings. She wore no makeup or jewelry other than a simple silver cross around her neck. Her eyes were dark-rimmed and dull, as if she hadn't slept for a very long time.

“Yes?” she said without animation. No smile on her thin, colorless lips.

“I'm looking for Estelle Colucci,” I said.

“Estelle isn't here.”

“Her husband said she would be visiting.”

“Her husband was wrong.”

Ranger moved forward and the woman blocked his way. “Are you Mrs. DeStefano?” Ranger asked.

“I'm Christina Gallone. Sophia DeStefano is my sister.”

“We need to speak to Mrs. DeStefano,” Ranger said.

“She's not seeing visitors.”

Ranger pushed her back into the room. “I think she is.”

“No!” Christina said, pulling at Ranger. “She's not well. You have to leave!”

A second woman stepped out of the kitchen, into the foyer. She was older than Christina, but the resemblance was there. She wore the same black dress and shoes and simple silver cross. She was the taller of the two, her short brown hair shot with gray. Her face was more animated than her sister's, but her eyes were eerily empty, sucking light in and giving nothing out. My first impression was that she was medicated. My second guess would be that she was insane. And I was pretty sure I was looking at the crazy-eyed woman who shot Mooner.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“Mrs. DeStefano?” Ranger asked.

“Yes.”

“We'd like to speak to you about the disappearance of two young men.”

The sisters looked at each other and the nape of my neck prickled. The living room was to my left. It was dark and forbidding, formally furnished with polished mahogany tables and heavy brocade upholstery. The drapes were closed, allowing no sunlight to penetrate the interior. A small study opened to my right. The door was partially open, revealing a cluttered desk. Again, curtains were drawn in the study.

“What would you like to know,” Sophia said.

“Their names are Walter Dunphy and Douglas Kruper, and we'd like to know if you've seen them.”