Plum Spooky Part 11

"That's it? That's all you got?"

"Yep."

"Where's Marbury?" he asked.

I got a map out of the side-door pocket and found Marbury. "It's on the way to Atlantic City" I said. "Give or take a bunch of miles."

Carl tapped me on the shoulder. "Eep."

"What?"

"Eep."

"I don't speak monkey" I told him. "I don't know eejs" eejs"

He pointed to his crotch and crossed his legs.

"I think he has to go to the bathroom," I said to Diesel.

Diesel powered a back window down. "Go to it," he said to Carl.

Carl looked out the window and looked up and down the street and shook his head.

Diesel cut his eyes to Carl. "Dude, you're a monkey. You can do it anywhere."

Carl shrugged.

"I think he might have some species confusion," I said to Diesel.

Diesel put the car into gear and drove back to the main street. He cruised two blocks, found a McDonald's, and parked. Carl jumped out the window and scampered to the door to McDonald's. He grabbed the handle with both hands, but he couldn't get the door to open.

"I'll get it," I said to Diesel. "I could use a milk shake. Do you want anything?"

"Double cheeseburger, fries, c.o.ke."

I opened the door for Carl, and he rushed off. I put my order in, paid the cas.h.i.+er, and was about to leave with my food when there was a m.u.f.fled scream from the ladies' rest-room. A door banged open, and a woman stormed out with Carl in tow.

"Who owns this monkey?" she asked. "It was in the ladies' room, looking under all the stall doors."

Carl pointed to me.

"You need to teach your monkey some manners," the woman said.

I looked down at Carl. "Are you done?" I asked him.

He shrugged, and we quickly walked back to the SUV. I sucked down my milk shake, Diesel ate his burger, and Carl ate his box of cookies.

"Your monkey was looking under the stall doors in the ladies' room," I told Diesel.

"That's my boy," Diesel said.

TEN

IT WAS ALMOST four o'clock when we rolled into Marbury. Diesel nosed the SUV into a parking s.p.a.ce in front of the post office and unbuckled his seat belt. four o'clock when we rolled into Marbury. Diesel nosed the SUV into a parking s.p.a.ce in front of the post office and unbuckled his seat belt.

"My turn," he said. "This shouldn't take long. It sounds like Gail Scanlon's had a post office box here for years. I'm hoping someone knows her."

I watched Diesel walk away and I enjoyed the view. I had no intention of getting involved, but that didn't mean I was blind to the masterpiece in front of me. Diesel was a big, solid guy who moved with seemingly effortless efficiency. Everything about him was in perfect proportion. And from where I was sitting, his a.s.s looked like Little Bear's bed . . . not too hard, and not too soft, but just right. just right.

Diesel disappeared into the building, and I turned to Carl. "So," I said, "how's it going?"

Carl looked at me, shrugged, and went back to his game. A pickup rumbled past us. An old man shuffled out of the post office and walked down the street. I went to my cell phone to call Morelli, but we were in the middle of the Jersey Pine Barrens, and there wasn't cell ser vice.

The Pine Barrens is a heavily forested area covering a little over a million acres of coastal plain across south Jersey. The soil is sandy and the trees are pine mixed with oaks that have managed to survive the occasional fire. Hundreds of acres are uninhabited, unless you count blueberries, and cranberries, and the stubborn, hardscrabble folks known as Pineys who live and work there. There are also hundreds of antique shops, bed and breakfasts of varying quality, and dirt roads that go nowhere. Plus, there's the Jersey Dev il. The Pacific Northwest has Sasquatch. Loch Ness has Nessie. And the Pine Barrens has the Jersey Dev il.

Diesel left the post office, walked to the car, and slid in behind the wheel.

"Well?" I asked.

"Gail Scanlon comes in on no fixed schedule and gets her mail. Sometimes she's in once a week. Sometimes they don't see her for six months. Her box was emptied yesterday, but no one saw her come in. The post office boxes are around a corner from the counter."

"Did you get a description?"

"Slim, average height, long black hair, early forties, eccentric."

"What does 'eccentric' mean?"

"They didn't elaborate. But she must really be out there for them to call her eccentric. This isn't exactly the center of sane."

"Did they know where she lived?"

"No. One of the guys said she was a citizen of the world. And the woman next to him said she was a nymphomaniac."

"Sounds like your kind of woman."

"Yeah, she has potential."

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now we go home and regroup."

DIESEL WAS REGROUPING on the couch, watching on the couch, watching Seinfeld Seinfeld reruns, and Carl was sitting beside him. reruns, and Carl was sitting beside him.

"This is going too slow," I said to Diesel. "You're supposed to be the big-deal super bounty hunter. Why aren't you doing something?"

"I am doing something. I'm waiting."

"Waiting isn't good. I hate waiting. Waiting feels like doing nothing."

"I have Flash watching the Sky Social Club. And every ten minutes, I go to the window to see if the cloud of doom has rolled over Trenton, signifying Wulf's presence."

"Nothing personal, but I don't care about Wulf I need to find Martin Munch."

"I know how Wulf works. Right now, he's involved in a project that involves Munch, and they're joined at the hip. If we find one of them, we'll find both of them. If we don't find them until after Munch has served his purpose, we'll find Munch with his head screwed on backwards."

I cracked my knuckles and gnawed on my lower lip. I didn't want to find Munch with his head screwed on backward. I felt my cell phone buzz at my hip, and I checked the readout. Morelli.

"I have a problem," Morelli said.

"No kidding."

"More than that. I just got home, and Anthony is missing, and there's a naked woman in my bed."

"And?"

"I don't want to talk about this on the phone. Can you get over here? I need help."

"I'm on my way." I disconnected and grabbed my bag. "Gotta go," I said to Diesel. "Morelli needs help with a naked woman."

"I didn't know you were into that," Diesel said.

"It's not a party. It's a problem. I'll be on my cell if you notice the cloud of doom hanging over my apartment building."

Ten minutes later, I walked into the disaster area that used to be Morelli's living room. It was littered with empty beer cans, fast-food wrappers, and discarded socks, shoes, and underwear. Crumpled pages ripped off a yellow lined pad were scattered across the floor. A rumpled pillow and balled-up quilt were pushed to one end of the couch.

Morelli smiled when he saw me, and I got warm inside and smiled back. He was still in work clothes. Dark jeans and boots. Cream-colored sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. Gun on his hip. He had a garbage bag in one hand and a can of air freshener in the other.

"I thought your mother was coming over to clean?" I said to him.

"She was here this morning. This is afternoon trash."

"What's with all the crumpled pieces of lined paper?"

"Anthony decided he should write a book about his life."

"Because why?" I asked Morelli.

"He thinks his life is fascinating. He's calling his book 'Love Your Inner Jerk.'"

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Morelli said, "but it can't be good."

I helped gather beer cans and food wrappers and stuffed them into the garbage bag. I left the underwear for Morelli. I wouldn't touch the underwear with a big stick.

"Doesn't Anthony have a job?" I asked.

"Not this week. He took the week off to get his act together."

"Looks to me like he's spreading his act all over your house."

"This is nothing. You should see what I've got upstairs."

"The naked woman?"

"Yeah. She won't leave. She says she's waiting for Anthony to come back with pizza."

"So when he comes back she'll leave, right?"

"He's been gone for almost two hours. For all I know, he could be gone for two days. It's happened."

"Did you try telling her to leave?"

"Yeah. She told me to take a hike."

"You're a cop. You probably drag naked women out of bedrooms all the time."

"Almost never. And this is my my bedroom. And this woman was brought here by bedroom. And this woman was brought here by my my married brother. I'm supposed to be keeping him in line. If this gets back to my sister-in-law and my mother, I'm in big trouble. And even worse, if I lay a hand on this bimbo, she could scream rape or police brutality or G.o.d knows what." married brother. I'm supposed to be keeping him in line. If this gets back to my sister-in-law and my mother, I'm in big trouble. And even worse, if I lay a hand on this bimbo, she could scream rape or police brutality or G.o.d knows what."

"So you want me to get rid of her for you."

"Yeah." Morelli grinned at me again. "If you did that one thing for me, I'd be nice to you. Really Really nice." nice."

"And then what? Would I have to be really nice to you?"

"No. You could walk away. Adios. Sayonara. Good night."

I'd heard this before. Once Morelli got rolling, no one walked away. No one ever wanted wanted to walk away. Morelli naked was a force of nature. Of course, I could have him keep his clothes on, but that might feel weird. to walk away. Morelli naked was a force of nature. Of course, I could have him keep his clothes on, but that might feel weird.

"What about your brother?"

"I'll lock the doors."

"Hasn't he got a key?"

Morelli dropped the garbage bag onto the floor and stuffed his hands onto his hips. "Are you going to do this for me, or what?"

"Sure. Do you know her name?"