14 Fearless Fourteen Read Free Page A

as a snake. I couldn't
remember her last album, but I knew she had a cabaret act going.
Baby-sitting Brenda had “nightmare” written all over
it.
    “Babe,” Ranger said, reading my thoughts. “I don't ask a lot of
favors.”
    I blew out a sigh, folded the paper, and put it in my jeans
pocket. “Looks like the fund-raiser is tonight. Meet and greet at
five-thirty. I'll meet you in her hotel lobby at
five.”
    Zook was IN the land of Minionfire when I rolled into the bonds
office. Connie was working on the computer at her desk, and Lula
was packing up, getting ready to leave. “I gotta get home and
beautify,” Lula said. “Tank's coming over tonight. This here's the
third time this week I'll see him. I think this is getting serious.
I wouldn't be surprised if he was gonna pop the
question.”
    “What question are you thinking about?” Connie
asked.
    “The big question. The M question. He probably would already
have asked the M question, except he's so shy. I been thinking I
might help him along with it. Make it easy on him. Maybe I need to
get him liquored up first, so he's nice and relaxed. And maybe I'll
stop at the jewelry district on the way home and get an engagement
ring, so he don't have to do a lot of shopping. You know how men
hate shopping.”
    “How're we doing with Loretta's bond?” I asked
Connie.
    Connie slid a glance at Zook, bent over his laptop, and then
looked back at me. The silent communication was no luck so far.
Hard to get someone to post a couple thousand dollars in bond when
the last person to post bond for Loretta ended up forfeiting their
money.
    Lula had her bag on her shoulder and her car keys in her hand.
“What'd Ranger want with you?”
    “He's running security for Brenda for the next three days, and
he wants me to ride shotgun.”
    Morelli lived halfway between my apartment at the edge of
Trenton proper and my parents' house in the Burg. It was a modest
two-story row house on a quiet street in a stable blue-collar
neighborhood. Living room, dining room, kitchen, and powder room on
the first floor. Three small bedrooms and bath upstairs. So far as
I know, he'd never eaten in the dining room. Morelli ate breakfast
at the small table in the kitchen, lunch at the sink, and dinner in
front of the television in the living room. There was a single-car
garage at the back of the property, accessible by a rutted alley,
but Morelli almost always parked his SUV at the curb in front of
the house. The backyard was narrow and strictly utilitarian, only
used by Morelli's dog, Bob.
    I parked and looked over at Zook. “You know Joe Morelli,
right?”
    “Wrong.”
    “You're related.”
    “That's what I hear.” Zook studied the house. “I thought it
would be bigger. It's all my uncle talks about since he got out of
prison. He said it was supposed to go to him, but Morelli swindled
him out of it.”
    “Hard to believe of Morelli,” I said.
    “I thought he was supposed to be the big, bad, tough cop and
lady-killer. What's he want with this dorkopolis?”
    In the beginning, I struggled with that one, too. I saw Morelli
in a cool condo with a big-screen television and a kick-ass sound
system and maybe a pinball machine in his living room. Turns out
Morelli was tired of sailing that ship. Morelli went into Rose's
house with an open mind, and the house and Morelli took stock of
each other and adapted. The house gave up some of its stuffiness,
and Morelli dialed down his wild side.
    I pulled the key from the ignition, got out of the car, and
walked to the front door with Zook trailing after
me.
    “This is so lame,” Zook said, dragging his feet. “I can't
believe my mother tried to rob a stupid booze
shack.”
    I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't want to make out like
armed robbery was okay, but at the same time, I didn't want to be
gloom and doom. “Sometimes good people do dumb things,” I said. “If
you hang in there with your mom, it'll all work out... eventually.
Step back when I