Smokin’ Seventeen(63)

“I’m just going over to Stark,” I told him. “It’ll be boring.”

“Awesome.”

I blew out a sigh. Sometimes it’s best to give up and go with it. “Okay then,” I said. “Let’s roll.”

I turned up Stark and cruised past Kan Klean dry cleaners. Standard two plate-glass windows on either side of the front door. A roll-down security gate was in place. Kan Klean was closed on Sunday. A side door accessed the two floors above the dry cleaner. Connie said Alpha lived on the second floor. The third floor was a rental unit occupied by someone named Jesus Cervaz. I drove around the block and took the service road. Alpha’s building had a small parking area behind it, an enclosed area for garbage cans, and a back door that looked like it only led to the dry cleaner. A Kan Klean van and a silver Camry were parked in the lot. The second and third floor had rear access onto exterior stairs.

There were rear-facing windows in the apartments, but you’d have to be Spider-Man to get to them. The rear doors were solid, without windows.

“What are we looking at?” Mooner asked.

“Real estate.”

“Are you like buying?”

“No. Breaking and entering.”

“Excellent.”

I returned to Stark and drove past Alpha’s address one more time. A man stepped out of a bar two doors down and bent his head to light a cigarette. It was Nick Alpha.

“Dude,” Mooner said. “It’s The Twizzler.”

“Twizzler?”

“That’s what we call him. The dude loves Twizzlers.”

“How do you know him?”

“He’s in my bowling league. He took Billy Silks’ place last month when Silky broke his thumb. Turns out it’s real hard to bowl with a broken thumb.”

“I didn’t know you bowled.”

“Every Sunday night. I got a shirt with my name on it. Walter.”

“Does Twizzler have his name on his shirt?”

“No. He hasn’t got an official shirt. He’s just a stand-in for Silky.”

“So he’ll be bowling with you tonight?”

“Yeah, man. When you commit to a league you show up. It’s like a responsibility, you know?”

It’s almost always better to be lucky than to be good. By a stroke of dumb luck I just found out when Nick Alpha will be out of his apartment.

I took Mooner back to the bus and drove home on autopilot. It was one thing to know Alpha would be out of his apartment. It was a whole other deal to get inside. And there was always the possibility the Twizzler would get a stomach flu in the middle of a frame and go home. Ranger would get me in and keep me safe, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve Ranger.

I parked in my building’s lot and walked to the back door. I was halfway there when I heard the car coming. It was crazy Regina Bugle in her black Lexus, bearing down on me. I jumped behind Mr. Moyner’s Buick, and the Lexus careened off, and circled around. I ran flat out and made it into the building just as Regina was about to mow me down. She stopped short, gave me the finger, and sped away.

Mental note. Next time remember to look for Regina Bugle. I trudged up the stairs to the second floor and peeked into the hall. Thank goodness, no Dave. I let myself into my apartment and got the last beer out of the fridge. Rex came out of his soup can to say hello, and I dropped a couple Fruit Loops into his cage.

“It wasn’t a completely awful day,” I told Rex. “I brought Ziggy in and now I can pay off my credit card. And Grandma Bella took the vordo off me.”

I ate Fruit Loops out of the box with my beer, and I went to my computer. I checked my email, and I looked through Craigslist for possible jobs that wouldn’t get me killed. Almost everything on Craigslist paid more than I was currently making, but my qualifications were sketchy. I had a college degree in liberal arts. That and a dollar could get me a soda.





THIRTY-FOUR

AT EIGHT O’CLOCK I called Ranger. “Are you busy?” I asked him.

“Is this about vordo?”

“No. This is about breaking into Nick Alpha’s apartment to look for a Frankenstein mask.”

“If I don’t do this with you, are you going alone?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of silence and I suspected Ranger was thinking about sighing.

“When and where?” he asked.

“Now. First block of Stark.”

“Park in the garage. We’ll take a fleet car.”

Ranger was waiting for me when I pulled into Rangeman twenty minutes later. He was wearing a black SEALs ball cap, a black T-shirt, black windbreaker, black cargo pants, and black cross-trainers. I knew from past experience he’d be carrying a sidearm, an ankle gun, and a knife.