"We're on the Expressway. My Jeep ran out of gas in the woods, and Ranger rescued Lula and me."

"Tell him I appreciate the help. And try to get him to pick up some dinner on the way home. A rotisserie chicken would be good."

"That's not going to fly."

"Worth a shot," Diesel said.

I UNLOCKED MY UNLOCKED MY apartment door, stepped inside, and kicked my shoes off in the kitchen. apartment door, stepped inside, and kicked my shoes off in the kitchen.

Diesel sauntered in and looked me over. "Am I allowed to smile?"

"As long as you don't laugh out loud."

"What happened?"

"It was dark under the pines, and Lula and I sort of fell into a swamp."

"Where's Carl?"

"He ran away after he turned all the other monkeys loose. And you were right about Gail's house. It was the one you picked out from the aerial view of the Barrens. It was empty when I got there. I didn't see any sign of struggle. Nothing to indicate where Wulf took Gail. Or why he took her."

"Back up. Other monkeys?"

"About twenty of them in a habitat next to Gail's house. They were wearing little helmets with antennae on the tops. Carl opened the door, and they all ran off into the woods."

"Anything else?"

I told him about Martin Munch.

"Where were you?" I asked Diesel. "I tried to reach you when Gail first called me, but you weren't picking up."

"I had to solve a problem in Panama."

"Do I want to know about the problem?"

"No."

I carefully walked to the bathroom, trying not to dislodge any mud clods, and I took a shower. I blasted my hair with the dryer and put on some clean sweats. I went to the kitchen and looked for food.

"Have you eaten?" I asked Diesel.

"When?"

"Recently."

"No."

I considered my choices. Cereal, peanut b.u.t.ter, scrambled eggs, grilled cheese. Hands down, it was grilled cheese. I got everything going in the fry pan and Diesel stood pressed to my back, looking over my shoulder. "Is that for me?"

"Do you want it?"

"Badly" Diesel said.

"I'm talking about the cheese."

"That, too."

Diesel ate two grilled-cheese sandwiches, and I ate one. I was debating cleaning the fry pan or just throwing it away, and Morelli called.

"Just shoot me," Morelli said. "Put me out of my misery. His wife doesn't want him back. I don't blame her. I don't want him, either, but I'm stuck with him. I can't get him out of my house. He can barely walk. I'm waiting on him hand and foot. The only thing he can do is work the channel changer. I've got a full-scale gang war going in the projects, and seventeen times a day I get a phone call from Anthony adding things to his gimme list. He wants lip balm. He wants bananas. He wants a TV Guide. TV Guide. He wants beer." He wants beer."

"I'm really sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help."

"There is. I hate to ask you to do this, but I'm desperate. Can I have the gimme phone calls transferred to you for just one day? I have meetings up my a.s.s tomorrow. I can't keep taking these phone calls."

"Sure. Have him call me. Do you know anything about the explosion at the Sky Social Club? Did they find any bodies inside?"

"One. Tentative identification is Doc Weiner. His two stooges were out front and were blown across the street but didn't get hurt."

I hung up and told Diesel about Doc Weiner.

"Why would Wulf blow up the building?" I asked Diesel. "If he wanted to get rid of Weiner, why didn't he just kill him like Scanlon?"

"Hard to say with Wulf. He sees himself as a sort of avenging angel, but then he has a playful side."

"Blowing up a building is playful?"

"It is if you're Wulf."

Diesel went to the dining room, retrieved my laptop, and took it to the couch. He turned the computer on and brought up the satellite map of the Pine Barrens. It showed a bird's-eye view of trees, lakes, dirt roads, and houses dotted throughout the area.

"Here's Marbury Road," he said. "We turned off the paved road and eventually we took this dirt road. The road gets difficult to see on this screen because it narrows and becomes obscured by trees."

I traced my route and was able to pick out Gail's animal rescue compound. It was easy to see the exit road on the screen. I found the boggy area that tried to swallow up Lula and me, and the road Munch took on his ATV. The ATV road fed into a crazy quilt of dirt paths that crisscrossed and connected to about a hundred other dirt roads.

"Martin Munch could be living anywhere in the Barrens," Diesel said. "There are single-room camps, junker Airstreams, and small ranch-style houses stuck everywhere. Some are legal and some are squatters. From what I know about Munch, he doesn't require a lot. Electric for his computer and some basic amenities. Wulf, on the other hand, isn't the type to rough it."

"Don't these guys need an evil laboratory somewhere? A lair where they conduct their dastardly experiments and mea sure magneto-type stuff with their stolen magnetometer?"

"I don't know. It depends what they're doing. One thing we know is that they have Gail Scanlon locked away, and she was able to use a phone."

THIRTEEN

I WAS ON WAS ON my second cup of coffee and the caffeine wasn't kicking in. Diesel, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. my second cup of coffee and the caffeine wasn't kicking in. Diesel, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"What's with you?" he asked.

"You kept me awake all night. You're big and hot and you kept squishing me. I can't sleep when you're laying on top of me."

"No problemo. To night, you can take the top. And here's a thought. If you didn't go to bed wearing everything in your closet, you might not be so hot. The only thing missing is body armor."

If I had it, I'd wear it, I thought. I dragged myself out of the kitchen and went to my living room window to see if my car was in the parking lot. I got to the window and my cell phone rang. Anthony.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said. "Joe tells me I'm supposed to call you if I need something."

"Yep. What's up?"

"I want Halloween candy. I want a couple bags of that sugar candy that's shaped like pumpkins and bats and corn. And I need more M&Ms.;"

"You called to tell me you want candy?"

"Yeah. I know it's unreasonable, but I feel so c.r.a.ppy. I'm depressed, and I think I'm running a fever, and the nail holes sort of ooze blood when I walk around."

I felt my upper lip curl back. I didn't want to hear about his nail holes oozing blood. Better to get him the candy than to hear about the nail holes. I disconnected and searched the lot for my car. No luck. Rangeman hadn't delivered it yet. Anthony would have to wait for his pumpkins. Diesel's Escalade was still in the lot, but the Harley had disappeared.

I looked back at Diesel. "What happened to your bike?"

"I gave it to Flash. I wasn't using it."

Two Rangeman cars pulled into my lot and parked. Rangeman cars are always new, black, and immaculate. Their origin is a mystery, but there seems to be an inexhaustible supply. Hal got out of the second car. He was dressed in the usual black Rangeman fatigues, and he was carry ing a small plastic bag. I watched him disappear into my building, and minutes later, he was at my door.

"I have some good news and some bad news," Hal said. "The bad news is there was a back window open on your Jeep, and when we got there this morning the Jeep was full of racc.o.o.ns. It looked like they were originally after a bucket of fried chicken, but they pretty much tore up everything when they were done with the chicken. And then they relieved themselves." Hal shook his head. "I've never seen anything like it. It was like every racc.o.o.n in the state came in there to . . . you know. We had to get it towed. They ate the driver's seat." He handed me the plastic bag. "We found this game in the back. It still looks okay. And we took the registration and insurance papers out of the glove compartment. They're in the bag, too. Ranger got rid of the wrecked Jeep and told me to loan you the one we just drove into your lot." Hal handed me a set of keys.

I thanked Hal and went to the window to see my new car. It was a shiny black Jeep Cherokee.

"I get the feeling this happens a lot," Diesel said.

"I have bad car juju."

My phone rang, and I knew from the ringtone it was Lula.

"I'm at the Shop and Bag. I figured I'd pick some stuff up before I went to work, and who do you think is here? It's the guy who shot himself in the foot. Whatshisname. He's got his foot in one of them boot things, and he's driving a motorized shopping cart. I wouldn't mind going over and beating on him, but I thought you might want first crack."

"I'll be right there." I ran to the foyer and grabbed my jacket and bag. "Gotta go," I said to Diesel. "Lula's spotted one of my FTAs."

"Make sure you're back here by noon at the latest," Diesel said.

I sprinted down the hall, down the stairs, crossed the lot to the new Jeep, and looked inside. Oh boy, leather seats. I slid behind the wheel and sucked in the new-car smell. I missed Carl, but I had to admit this smelled better than monkey.

Ten minutes later, I was at Shop and Bag. I had cuffs stuck into the back pocket of my jeans, pepper spray clipped to my waistband, and a stun gun that might or might not work shoved into my jacket pocket. I jogged to the entrance and called Lula on her cell.

"He just went down the cereal aisle," she said. "He's heading for dairy. I'm hiding out in personal products."

I turned down condiments and had him in sight. Lula was right. He was heading for dairy. Lula joined me and we followed him past the cheese and approached him in front of yogurt.

"Denny Guzzi?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, turning his vehicle to face me. "Oh s.h.i.t."

"You missed your court date," I said. "You need to reschedule."

"Forget it. There wasn't a crime. I'm not doing the time."

"You robbed a store."

"I didn't get to keep the money. It doesn't count."

"That's true," Lula said.

"It's not true!" I told her.

"Well, there does seem to be some injustice."

"Have you been hitting the medicinal whiskey again?"

"I was a little congested this morning," Lula said.

I reached for Guzzi with the cuffs, and he wheeled his cart around, clipped me with the basket, and took off down condiments.

"Help," he yelled. "Crazy lady."

He was grabbing jars off the shelves, throwing them at me, smashing them on the floor. Ketchup. Crash. Crash. All over the floor. Dill pickles. All over the floor. Dill pickles. Crash. Crash. All over the floor. Giant-size mayonnaise. All over the floor. Giant-size mayonnaise. Crash. Crash. All over the floor. Lula and I were sliding in glop, picking our way around gla.s.s shards, pickles, olives, sliced beets. All over the floor. Lula and I were sliding in glop, picking our way around gla.s.s shards, pickles, olives, sliced beets.

"Cleanup in aisle nine," came over the public address system.

Lula and I turned and backtracked in an effort to outflank Guzzi. We ran down aisle ten, rounded the endcap, and blocked his forward progress.

"This is not a big deal," I said to him. "It'll only take a few minutes to get a new court date, and then I'll bring you back so you can finish your shopping."

This was a huge lie, of course, but I was desperate. I needed the money, and besides, I didn't like him. Call me crazy, but I don't like people who shoot at me and hit me with their motorized shopping carts.

"Okay, how about this," Lula said to Guzzi. "How about I root your crippled a.s.s out of that rent-a-wreck and kick your b.u.t.t all the way across the parking lot."

"What'd I ever do to you?" he asked.

"You shot at me," Lula said.

"You disturbed me when I was in my home."