in touch with the Panthers, I could negotiate.”
“Where is this treasure chest?”
“Frank used to keep it at the store.”
“You know what it looks like, right?”
“It looks like a miniature pirate chest. Frank said you hide things in obvious places because that’s never where anyone looks. He kept the chest on the shelf behind the register. There are some picture frames, and small glass vases, and the chest is in the middle.”
I finished my piece of chicken and washed my hands. I wanted a cookie, but I wasn’t going to open the package of Vienna Fingers in front of Joyce. I didn’t want to share.
“I’m not breaking into the store,” I said.
“It’s not a big deal. I know the code. I watched Frank punch it in.”
“Then why don’t
“The Panthers could be watching.”
“I think there’s a real good chance they’ve all gone back to Pink Panther land.”
“No way. The Panthers are tenacious.” She eyeballed the Vienna Fingers sitting on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to stay here forever.”
“Don’t even think about eating those Vienna Fingers,” I told her.
“Better on your hips than mine. Obviously, you don’t care how big your ass gets.”
Here are my options, I thought. I could stun her when she goes to sleep, drag her into the hall again, and have bars installed on my bedroom window. I could get the treasure chest. Or I could kill her.
“How am I going to get into the store?” I asked her.
“I assumed you had skills.”
“You assumed wrong. I have no skills.” That wasn’t even an understatement. What I had was luck, friends, and tenacity born of desperation.
“You know people who
“Fine,” I said, “I’ll get the stupid treasure chest.” I grabbed the Vienna Fingers and shoved them into my messenger bag. “Do not eat my frozen pizza. Do not drink my wine.”
Joyce tore a scrap off one of the grocery bags and wrote the code on it. “Say hello to Ranger for me. Tell him if he ever wants to trade up, I might give him a tug.”
For a moment I considered option number three. Someone really needed to kill Joyce. My fear was that I’d bungle it. Then what? She could be a living vegetable in my apartment for the rest of her life while I spooned soup into her and rubbed her feet.
I hiked my bag up onto my shoulder and left my apartment. I took the elevator and called Ranger when I got to the foyer.
“I need help,” I said. “I need to break into a jewelry store.”
There was a beat of silence. “Looking to accessorize?”
“I need to get into Frank Korda’s store. Can you get me in? I know the security code.”
“No problem.”
“I’m leaving my apartment now. I’ll meet you behind the store in about twenty minutes.”
I still had the Glock in my bag. I wrapped my hand around it, left the building, and walked to my truck with my eyes sweeping the lot, looking for Razzle Dazzle. I made it to the truck, got up behind the wheel, and locked the doors.
The drive to Korda’s store was uneventful, and Ranger’s Porsche 911 Turbo was already parked in the lot when I got there. I pulled in beside him and got out.
“Babe,” Ranger said. “You’re supposed to dress in black for a nighttime jewel heist.”
Ranger was in black, of course.
“It’s not a jewel heist,” I told him. “I’m looking for a little pirate chest.”
He handed over infrared goggles. “Use these. It’s dark in there and a penlight will give you away.”
Ranger went to the door and looked at the lock. He removed a slim tool from his pocket, inserted the tool into the lock, and in seconds we were inside.
I punched the code into the security system, put the goggles on, and went directly to the shelf behind the register. There were picture frames and vases, but no chest. I methodically went through the room. No chest. I moved to the back storeroom and worked my way around. Nothing.
“I’m getting the impression this isn’t going well,” Ranger said.
“Joyce said the chest would be on the shelf behind the register, but it isn’t there. I’ve looked all through the store, and I can’t find it.”
“Joyce?”
“Barnhardt. She’s moved into my apartment, and I can’t get her out. I stun-gun her, drag her into the hall, and she comes back.”
“How does she get in?” Ranger asked.
“Fire escape.”
“I could have it electrified.”
“I thought of that, but Mrs. Delgado’s cat would get fried.”
Ranger removed my goggles. “Would you like to come home with me?”
I stepped away from him. “Thank you for the offer, but
Ranger smiled. “Forever?”
“Until I figure some things out.”
“And if you don’t figure them out?”
“If I can’t figure them out on my own, I’ll ask you to help me.”
“Babe, that’s like the blind leading the blind.”
I sat in the parking lot to my apartment building and ate half a package of Vienna Fingers. Lights were on in my apartment. Joyce was all cozy up there, watching television, probably drinking my wine. Ranger was no doubt back in his penthouse on the seventh floor of Rangeman. Morelli was most likely at home, watching a ball game with Bob. And here I was hiding out in my truck. It was pathetic. I slipped the uneaten Vienna Fingers into my bag and grabbed the Glock. I left the truck and crossed the lot to the back door. I was ten feet from the building, and Raz jumped out of the shadows, knife in hand.
“You bitch lady,” he said. “Now we talk. We deal, eh?”
He lunged at me with the knife, and I shot him in his good leg. We both stood dead still for a long moment in shock.
He looked down at his leg and made a strangled sound deep in his throat. “Motherfucking shit,” he said.
“What’s this about?” I asked him. “Why do you want the photograph, which by the way I don’t have?”
“Boss say to get it, and I get it. I don’t get it, and I get shot again. This time in the eye, hanging upside down with heavy rocks tied to my testicles.”
He turned and limped into the lot.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m not done. Stop or I’ll shoot.”
“Crazy American bitch,” he said. “Shoot me. You think I care? Shoot me again. I live for pain.”
He dragged himself into a silver Sentra and drove away.
Mr. Daly stuck his head out of his second-floor window. “What was that? Did I hear a gunshot?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” I said, looking up at Mr. Daly, dropping my gun into my bag. “Must have been someone’s t-t-television.”
I was hyperventilating and my hands were shaking when I got to my apartment, and I had to two-fist the key to unlock my door. I got inside, did some deep breathing, and went straight to the kitchen for the wine. Half a bottle left. Good enough. I poured some into a water glass and took it into the living room, where Joyce was waiting.
“The chest wasn’t in the store,” I said to her. “It wasn’t on the shelf. It wasn’t anywhere.”
“That’s impossible. It was always on the shelf.”
“When was the last time you saw it?”
