Finger Lickin' Fifteen (Stephanie Plum 15)

Some of it was interesting, but after an hour of staring at the screen, it all grew monotonous. By five o’clock, I had a cramp in my ass. I put my computer to sleep and walked the short distance down the hall to Ranger’s office.

“Knock, knock,” I said.

Ranger looked up at me. “Babe.”

“I have a cramp in my ass.”

“I could kiss it and make it better.”

“I was thinking more along the line of a new chair,” I told him.

“Tell Louis. He’ll get you whatever you want. Do you have plans for tonight?”

“No.”

“Hang out for another hour. I want to talk to you, but I need to go through this paperwork first.”

A little after six, Ranger ambled into my cubicle and collected me.

“Ella has dinner ready upstairs,” he said. “We can eat and talk.”

There was a time, not too long ago, when Ranger’s address was a vacant lot. It turns out besides being a very tough guy, he’s also a very smart businessman, and he now lives in an extremely upscale one-bedroom inner sanctum of civilized calm. The apartment was tastefully decorated by a professional, and is now maintained by Ella. The furniture is comfortable contemporary. Leather, chrome, dark woods, with earth-tone accents. It’s clearly masculine but not overpowering. The apartment feels surprisingly warm in spite of the fact that there are no personal touches. No family photographs. No favorite books stacked at bedside. No clutter. I’ve spent a reasonable amount of time in Ranger’s apartment, and I’ve always thought it was a place where he slept but didn’t live. I’ve never been able to find the place he would call home. Maybe it doesn’t exist. Maybe he carries it inside him. Or maybe it’s a place he hasn’t yet discovered.

We were silent in the elevator and small foyer that preceded Ranger’s apartment. He fobbed his door open, and I stepped into the hall, with its subdued lighting and plush carpet. Ranger dropped his keys onto a small silver tray on the sideboard and followed me to the kitchen. His appliances were top-of-the-line stainless. His countertops were granite. Ella kept everything immaculate. I lifted the lid to the blue Le Creuset casserole dish on the stovetop. Chicken, rice, spicy sausage, and vegetables.

“This smells wonderful,” I said to Ranger. “You’re lucky to have Ella.”

“If I can’t stop these break-ins, I’m not going to have Ella or anyone else.”

“What about security cameras? Weren’t any of the thefts caught on tape?”

“All the burglaries were residential with no cameras in place.” Ranger poured out two glasses of wine and handed one to me. “Without going into detail, I can tell you there are a lot of safeguards in the system to prevent this from happening.”

“But it happened anyway.”

“Three times.”

“Is there anyone you especially want me to watch?”

“Martin Beam is the newest man in the building. He’s been with me for seven months. Chester Rodriguez and Victor Zullick were on deck for all three break-ins. There are four men who rotate shifts monitoring the code computer. Beyond that, I have nothing.”

“You’ve done recent background checks?”

“So far as I can tell, none of my men are in trouble, financial or otherwise.”

I ladled the stew onto plates, Ranger cut into a loaf of bread set out on a breadboard, and we took our wine and plates of food to the table, where Ella had laid out place-mats and silverware.

“Do you think this is someone needing money?” I asked Ranger. “Or do you think it’s someone trying to ruin you?”

“Hard to tell, but if I had to choose, I’d go with trying to ruin me.”

“That’s ugly.”

Ranger selected a slice of bread. “The men I hire aren’t stupid. They have to know stealing the codes will end badly, and the items and cash taken can’t compensate them for the risk. They’d be better off stealing from an ATM.”

“Was there a pattern to the break-ins?”

Ranger refilled my wineglass. “Only that they all happened at night.”