Explosive Eighteen

“Hey!” Lula said. “Wait for me.”

“Get in the truck,” I told her. “I’ll catch him.”

Three blocks later, Buggy was stopped in traffic. Lula jumped out, ran to the Firebird, wrenched the passenger-side door open, and got in. Mission accomplished, as far as I was concerned.

I stopped at the supermarket and got a couple bags of groceries. Bread, milk, juice, peanut butter, olives, bag of chips, a frozen pizza, Vienna Fingers cookies, a bucket of assorted fried chicken parts, strawberry Pop-Tarts. I made one more stop and got a six-pack of beer and a bottle of red wine. I was going to have a feast tonight. I was going to have fried chicken, beer, and Vienna Fingers. Tomorrow, I’d have pizza and wine. No men. No Joyce. No Apple Dumpling. Just me and Rex and the TV.

I lugged the bags up to my apartment, set them on the kitchen counter, and a chill ran down my spine. The television was on. I grabbed the Glock and peeked into the living room. It was Joyce. “What the heck?”

“That was really shitty,” Joyce said. “You dumped me out in the hall. If I had any other place to go, I’d be there.”

“How did you get back into my apartment?”

“I had to climb up the stupid fire escape again. It’s getting old.” She came into the kitchen and looked at the food I was unpacking. “Where’s my chicken salad and wine?”

“I didn’t get chicken salad. I didn’t think you’d be here. But here’s the good news. The charges have been dropped against you.”

“Big deal. The charges were bogus. I was never worried about the charges.”

“What are you worried about?”

“There’s nothing green here,” Joyce said.

“Olives.”

“Olives are a fruit. Look at this mess. You haven’t got a single vegetable.”

“There’s tomato sauce on the pizza.”

“Another fruit.”

As if my life wasn’t enough in the toilet, Joyce Barnhardt was now smarter and obviously ate better than me.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “What are you worried about?”

Joyce selected a mystery piece from the fried chicken bucket. “You ever hear of the Pink Panthers?”

“The movies?”

“No, the organization. Interpol has assigned the name Pink Panthers to an international jewel thief network. Interpol took the name from the movies.”

“The movies are great.”

“Focus,” Joyce said. “We’re talking about the network. Frank Korda was part of the network. I know it’s hard to believe that there’s this nebbish guy in Trenton associated with the Pink Panthers. I mean, the Pink Panthers are big. They’re HUGE! They stole a $27 million diamond necklace one time from a store in Tokyo. Anyway, somehow Korda connected with these guys.”

“What’s the advantage?”

“According to Korda, the Panthers have the ability to fence the stolen jewelry. Korda said it’s not hard to steal jewelry, but it’s risky to try to sell it.”

“Korda was stealing jewelry?”

“Big-time. He’d get the real thing into his store, sell it at a profit, and send the customer home with a knockoff. Plus, he’d shop around and lift and replace.”

“And what’s your role in this?”

“He wanted to go bigger. He saw a couple pieces in New York. One was at Harry Winston. There was another at Chopard. He said it was a four-man operation. There were two other Pink Panthers who were going to help out, and he was going to use me as a distraction. He said if I did a good job, the Panthers would let me into the network.”

“You wanted to be a Pink Panther?”

“I’d give my right nut to be a Pink Panther.”

“You have a nut?”

“No, but if I had one, I’d give it.”

“Do you know who killed Korda?”

“It was the Panthers. I used to come to the store to help Frank plan his capers, and…”

I inadvertently giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Joyce asked.

“You said capers.”

“Grow up. That’s what we call the jobs in the trade.”

I cracked open a beer and chugged half. No laughing, I told myself. If you laugh at Joyce, she won’t tell you the whole story, and you want to hear the whole story, no matter how ridiculous.

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry. You were helping Frank plan his capers.”

“Yeah, and we were fooling around a little. And he promised me this necklace he stole, but he couldn’t give it to me because it was too hot. And next thing I know, his wife is walking down the street wearing my necklace. So I went to the store to find out what the fuck’s going on, and we had a big fight. He said everything was off. He said the Pink Panthers didn’t want me, and he was getting out of the network anyway. He said something went sour. So I said what about the necklace? And he said his wife saw it and wanted it. So I told him he owed me, and I took a necklace out of the case. And the shithead came out after me, yelling that I stole a necklace. Can you believe it?”

“So you got arrested, and Vinnie bonded you out.”

“Exactly. I put my Mercedes up.”

“The one that got crushed?”

“Yeah. There’s something sort of good about that part, right? Anyway, next thing, I get a text message from Frank, and he wants to talk to me. So I go park in the lot behind the store, just like always. And Frank comes out, and he’s got the necklace. And he’s real sorry. And one thing leads to another, and I sort of have my face buried in his lap, so my vision is limited, right?”

Eeeuw.

“But I catch a flash of pink,” Joyce said. “And everything instantly goes limp on Frank. Everything. And next thing, I get stunned. And when I come around I’m stuffed into the trunk of a car with Frank. And Frank’s dead. I don’t know how he got dead. He wasn’t shot. There was no blood. For all I know, he could have had a heart attack. By the time I was able to get out from under Frank and get to the inside trunk latch, it was dark, and turned out the car was parked at the junkyard. I barely got out of the trunk, and the dog came at me and I ran for my life. Good thing the car was parked close to the fence. I went up the chain-link like a ninja.”

“And you think it was the Pink Panthers?”

“Who else would it be? I saw the flash of pink material when they zapped Frank.”

“And you’re afraid to go back to your condo.”

“They could be watching,” Joyce said. “They tried to kill me once. I figure they’ll keep trying if they see I’m alive.”

I gnawed on a piece of chicken and chugged the rest of my beer. “It doesn’t add up. Why would they want to kill you?”

“I guess I know too much. Frank told me the names of some of the thieves. And I saw pictures of the two people we were going to be working with in New York.”

I didn’t know how the Pink Panthers operated, but if I wanted someone dead, I wouldn’t just abandon them in the junkyard. I’d make sure they were totally and completely dead before I walked away.

“Why don’t you go to the police?” I asked her.

“Even if they believe my story, what are they going to do to help me?”

Here was the question I dreaded asking. “Why are you here? What do you expect me to do to help you?”

“I need the treasure chest. Everything is in there. All the Pink Panther contact information. I figure if I could get