Ranger ended his call and joined me at the table. He was in corporate attire. Black dress slacks, black dress shirt, black-on-black striped tie, black gun and holster. He draped a black cashmere sports coat on an empty dining room chair, then poured coffee while still standing, and sat across from me.
“Holy cow,” I said to him. But I was thinking Holy Cow!
“I wasn't trying for holy cow,” Ranger said. “I was shooting for respectable.” “Good luck with that one,” I told him.
Ranger was strong inside and out. He was intelligent. He was brave. He was physically and
emotionally agile. He was incredibly sexy. He was deceptively playful. But more than anything else, Ranger reeked of bad boy. It would take a lot more than a cashmere sports coat and an Armani tie to offset the testosterone and male pheromones that leaked out of him. I doubted Ranger would ever be entirely respectable.
“Okay,” Ranger said. “I admit respectable was a stretch. How about successful?” “Yes,” I said. “You look very successful.”
He helped himself to fruit and a slice of the frittata. "I'm going to make a deal with you.
The deal is that you work with me on the Dickie thing, and you don't go off on your own.“ ”That's the deal?"
“The alternative is that I lock you in my bathroom until I get this mess figured out.” “What about you? Are you going off on your own, without me?”
“No. I'll include you in everything.”
“Deal.”
"Gorvich, Petiak, and Smullen all have legitimate addresses, but none of them spend any
time at them. And they don't spend a lot of time at the office downtown. I had someone search the three residences, and he found nothing. No computers. No clothes in the closets. Nothing in the refrigerators. WeVe been calling their phones and only get a message service. Never a callback."
“Lula and I went through the law firms apartment building on Jewel Street and discovered Smullen was keeping a woman on the top floor. The woman said Smullen lived there when he was in the country. He was missing in action when we got there, and his girlfriend was angry. I should check to see if he's still missing.” I took a bagel and loaded it up with cream cheese. 'Why don't these guys live in their houses?"
“Maybe they're worried an unhappy client might come calling. I've been looking at the material you lifted from the law office. Rufus Caine paid the firm a little over a million dollars last year for legal services. I thought we might want to talk to him.”
You couldn't be associated with crime in Trenton and not have heard of Rufus Caine. Vinnie had never bonded him out, so everything I knew was secondhand. And what I knew mostly was that he wasn't a nice guy. “Rufus Caine is middle-management pharmaceuticals. Will he talk to us?”
“I have a relationship with Rufus. He lives and works out of a slum apartment building behind the train station. I thought we'd pay him a visit this afternoon. In the meantime, I have your FTA, Stewart Hansen, ready to go. Call the control room when you want him brought down to the garage. I'll send one of my men with you, but you probably don't want to involve RangeMan in the delivery.” Ranger finished his coffee and pushed back from the table. “I have to run.”
Han SEN was in the backseat of a Ford Explorer, physically ankle-chained to the floor, mentally floating in La La Land. Ranger hadn't been kidding when he said they'd been keeping Hansen happy. Hard to tell if Hansen was in this euphoric state from too many episodes of Scooby Doo or too much wacky to
backy.
I parked the Explorer in the public lot across from the courthouse and unlocked Hansen s ankle shackles. His hands were still cuffed behind his back, and I had to help him out of the SUV. Rangers guy was in the front passenger seat, looking nervous, not sure how much help he was supposed to give me and still stay politically correct.
“I'll be back,” I told the RangeMan guy. “Don't go anywhere.”
I maneuvered Hansen into the building, stood him in front of the docket lieutenant, and
Hansen started giggling.
“Shit,” the docket lieutenant said. "Last time I was that happy, I was in charge of the
evidence room and we'd just busted a gangbanger carrying a suitcase full of medicinal weed." I completed the paperwork, got a body receipt, and called Connie and told her Hansen was
in the lockup in case someone wanted to spring him again.
Ranger had said he'd be busy until noon, and it was still early, so I jogged to the SUV, got
behind the wheel, and drove to Coglin s house. Ranger had made me promise to work with
him on the Dickie thing. He hadn't said anything about my FTAs.
“Small detour,” I said to the RangeMan guy. “What's your name?”