Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)
I slid to a stop in front of Giovichinni's Market and didn't bother to call to check on Macaronis. I figured I had bigger problems than Macaronis. I was being stalked by a homicidal maniac. Spiro was officially over the edge.
I ran through the store gathering together some basic foods. Bread, cheese, Tastykakes, peanut butter, cereal, milk, Tastykakes, eggs, frozen pizza, Tastyk
akes, orange juice, apples, lunch meat, and Tastykakes. I checked out and muscled my way through the door with bags in my arms.
Ranger was leaning against the SUV, waiting for me. He pushed off, took the bags, and put them in the car. “Looks like you're playing house,” he said.
“More like nurse. Morelli needs some help.”
“Is that your job application on the front seat?” Yep.
“Personal products plant?”
“It's halfway to New Brunswick. I'm hoping they won't have heard about me. That's Grandmas line, but it's true.”
“Babe,” Ranger said. He was smiling, but there was a quality to his voice that told me it wasn't actually funny. We both knew that my life wasn't going in the carefree direction I'd hoped for.
Stephanie Plum 11 - Eleven On Top
NINE
“I HAVE AN office position open,” Ranger said. “Are you interested in working for Rangeman?”
“Oh great. A pity position.”
“If I gave you a pity position it wouldn't be in the office.”
This got a burst of laughter out of me because I knew he was taking a zing at my sex life with Morelli. For the most part, Ranger had a consistent personality.
He wasn't a guy who wasted a lot of unnecessary energy and effort. He moved and he spoke with an efficient ease that was more animal than human. And he didn't telegraph his emotions. Unless Ranger had his tongue in my mouth it was usually impossible to tell what he was thinking. But every now and then, Ranger would step out of the box, and like a little treat that was doled out on special occasions, Ranger would make an entirely outrageous sexual statement.
At least it would be outrageous coming from an ordinary guy . . . from Ranger it seemed on the mark.
“I didn't think you hired women,” I said to him. “The only woman you have working for you is your housekeeper.”
"I hire people who have the skills I need. Right now I could use someone in the building who can do phone work and paperwork. You'd be an easy hire. You already know the drill. Nine to five, five days a week. You can discuss salary with my business manager. You should consider it. The garage is secure.
You wouldn't have to worry about getting blown up when you leave at the end of the day."
Ranger owns a small seven-story office building in downtown Trenton. The building is unspectacular on the outside. Well maintained but not architecturally interesting. The interior of the building is high tech and slick, equipped with a state-of-the-art control center, offices, a gym, studio apartments for some of Ranger's crew, plus an apartment for Ranger on the top floor. I'd stayed in Ranger's apartment for a short time on a nonconjugal basis not long ago. It had been equal parts pleasure and terror. Terror because it was Ranger's apartment and Ranger could sometimes be a scary guy. Pleasure because he lives well. The job offer was tempting. My car would be safe. I'd be safe. I'd be able to pay my rent. And the chances of rolling in garbage were slim.
“Okay,” I said. “I'll take the job.”
“Use the intercom at the gate when you come in tomorrow. Dress in black. You'll be working on the fifth floor.”
“Any leads on Benny Gorman?”
“No. That's one of the things I want you to do. I want you to see what you can turn up.”
Ranger's pager buzzed, and he checked the readout. “Elroy Dish is back at Blue Fish. Do you want to ride along?”
“No thanks. Been there, done that.”
“Be careful.”
And he was gone.
I looked at my watch. Almost five. Perfect. Stiva would be between afternoon and evening viewings. I drove the short distance up Hamilton and parked on the street. I found Stiva in his office just off the large entrance foyer. I rapped on the doorjamb, and he looked up from his computer.