I grabbed my bag and the bike keys and shoved what was left of a sandwich into my mouth. DeChooch wasn't my favorite person but I didn't necessarily want him run over by a train. On the other hand, it would make my life better. I rolled my eyes as I barreled through the lobby. I was going straight to h.e.l.l for thinking a thought like that.

It took me twenty minutes to get to Deeter Street. Much of the area was blocked off by police cars and emergency vehicles. I parked three blocks away and walked the rest. Crime-scene tape was going up as I approached. Not so much to preserve the scene as to keep the gawkers back. I scanned the crowd for a familiar face, searching out someone who could get me inside. I spotted Carl Costanza, standing with several uniformed cops. They'd responded to the call and now were one step above the gawkers, looking at the wreck, shaking their heads. Chief Joe Juniak was with them.

I pushed my way through to Carl and Juniak, trying not to look too closely at the smashed car, not wanting to see severed limbs lying about.

"Hey," Carl said when he saw me. "I've been expecting you. It's a white Cadillac. Used to be, anyway."

"Has it been identified?"

"No. The plates aren't visible."

"Anybody in the car?"

"Hard to tell. The car's only about two feet high. Got flipped over and compacted. The fire department has their infrared out, trying to detect body heat."

I gave an involuntary shiver. "Ick."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. I was the second on the scene. I took one look at the Cadillac and my nuts went north."

I couldn't see much of the car from where I was standing. That was fine by me now that I knew the extent of the destruction. It had been hit by a freight train and the train didn't look like it had sustained any damage. From what I could see it hadn't derailed.

"Has anyone called Mary Maggie Mason?" I asked. "If this is the car Eddie DeChooch was driving, Mary Maggie is the owner."

"I doubt anyone's called her," Costanza said. "I don't think we're that organized yet."

Somewhere in my possession was Mary Maggie's address and phone number. I pawed through the loose change, gum wrappers, nail file, breath mints, and other a.s.sorted flotsam that collects in the bottom of my bag and finally found what I was looking for.

Mary Maggie answered on the second ring.

"It's Stephanie Plum," I told her. "Have you gotten your car back yet?"

"No."

"There's been a train crash involving a white Cadillac. I thought you might want to get down here and see if you can ID the car."

"Was anyone injured?"

"It's too early to tell. They're working on the wreckage now."

I gave her the location and told her I'd look for her.

"I hear you and Mary Maggie are buddies," Costanza said. "I hear you roll around in the mud together."

"Yeah," I said, "I'm thinking of making a career change."

"Better rethink that. I'm told The Snake Pit is closing down. The word is that it's been in the red for two years."

"That's impossible. It was packed."

"A place like that makes its money on the booze, and people aren't drinking enough. They come in and buy the cover and that's it. They know if they drink too much they're going to get tagged and maybe lose their license. That's why Pinwheel Soba got out. He opened an operation in South Beach where he has a walk-in crowd. Dave Vincent doesn't care. This was a lark for him. He makes his money on stuff you don't want to know about."

"So Eddie DeChooch isn't making any money on his investment?"

"Don't know. These guys skim off the top, but my guess is DeChooch isn't getting a lot."

Tom Bell was the primary on the Loretta Ricci case, and it looked like he pulled this one, too. He was one of several plainclothes cops milling around the car and the train engine. He turned and walked toward us.

"Anyone in the car?" I asked.

"Can't tell. There's so much heat from the train engine we can't get a good read from the heat-seeker. We're going to have to wait until the engine cools or we get the car off the track and opened up. And that's going to take a while. Part of it's caught under the engine. We're waiting for equipment to get here. What we know is there's no one alive alive in the car. And to answer your next question, we haven't been able to read the plate, so we don't know if it's the car DeChooch was driving." in the car. And to answer your next question, we haven't been able to read the plate, so we don't know if it's the car DeChooch was driving."

Being Morelli's girlfriend has its rewards. I'm afforded special courtesies, like sometimes getting my questions answered.

The Deeter Street crossing has bells and a gate. We were standing about an eighth of a mile away because that's how far the car got pushed. The train was long and stretched beyond Deeter Street. I could see from where I stood that the gates were still down. I suppose it's possible that they malfunctioned and came down after the accident. My better guess is that the car was stopped on the tracks deliberately and was waiting for the train to hit.

I caught a glimpse of Mary Maggie on the far side of the street and waved to her. She worked her way through the curious and joined me. She got her first distant look at the car and her face went pale.

"OmiG.o.d," she said, eyes wide, the shock obvious on her face.

I introduced Tom to Mary Maggie and explained her possible ownership.

"If we bring you closer do you think you might he able to tell if it's your car?" Tom asked.

"Is there anyone in it?"

"We don't know. We can't see anyone. It's possible that it's empty. But we just don't know."

"I'm going to be sick," Mary Maggie said.

Everyone mobilized. Water, ammonia capsules, paper bag. I don't know where it all came from. Cops can move fast when faced with a nauseous mud wrestler.

After Mary Maggie stopped sweating and she got some color back to her face, Bell walked her closer to the car. Costanza and I followed a couple paces behind. I didn't especially want to see the carnage, but I didn't want to miss anything, either.

We all stopped about ten feet from the wreck. The train engine was still but Bell was right, the engine was radiating a lot of heat. The sheer ma.s.s of the engine was intimidating even at rest.

Mary Maggie stared at what was left of the Cadillac and swayed in place. "It's my car," she said. "I think."

"How can you tell?" Bell asked.

"I can see some of the upholstery fabric. My uncle had the car seats reupholstered in blue. It wasn't the normal upholstery fabric."

"Anything else?"

Mary Maggie shook her head. "I don't think so. There's not much left to see."

We all walked back and huddled again. Some trucks pulled up with heavy rescue equipment and started to work on the Cadillac. They had a jaws of life standing by, but they were using acetylene torches to cut the car away from the train. It was getting dark, and portable spots had been brought to light the scene, giving it an eerie, movie-lot feel.

I felt a tug on my sleeve and turned to find Grandma Mazur standing on tiptoe trying to get a better view of the accident. Mabel Pritchet was with her.

"Have you ever seen such a thing?" Grandma said. "I heard on the radio that a train hit a white Cadillac, and I got Mabel to drive me over. Is it Chooch's car?"

"We don't know for sure, but we think it might be."

I introduced Grandma to Mary Maggie.

"It's a real pleasure," Grandma said. "I'm a big admirer of wrestling." She looked back at the Cadillac. "Be a shame if DeChooch is in there. He's such a cutie." Grandma leaned across me to Mary Maggie. "Did you know I was kidnapped? I had a bag over my head and everything."

"It must have been scary," Mary Maggie said.

"Well, in the beginning I thought Choochy was just trying something kinky. He has this problem with his p.e.n.i.s, you know. It don't do nothing. Just lays there like it was dead. But then it turned out I was kidnapped. Isn't that something? First off we drove around some. And then I could hear us going into a garage that had an automatic door. And the garage was attached to one of those finished-off bas.e.m.e.nts with a couple bedrooms and a television room. And the television room had chairs that were done in leopard print."

"I know that house," Mary Maggie said. "I went to a party there once. There's a little kitchen downstairs, too, right? And the downstairs bathroom has wallpaper that's tropical birds."

"That's right," Grandma said. "It was all jungle motif. Chooch said Elvis used to have a jungle room, too."

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. Mary Maggie knew DeChooch's secret hideout. And now I probably didn't need it.

"Who owns the house?" I asked.

"Pinwheel Soba."

"I thought he moved to Florida."

"He did, but he kept the house. They have relatives here, so they spend part of the year in Florida and part of the year in Trenton."

There was the sound of tearing metal, and the Cadillac was separated from the train. We watched in silence for several tense minutes while the top was peeled back. Tom Bell stood close to the car. After a moment he turned and looked at me and mouthed the word empty empty.

"He's not in there," I said. And we all choked on tears of relief. I'm not sure why. Eddie DeChooch wasn't such a great person. But then maybe no one is bad enough to deserve getting made into a pizza by a train.

I CALLED MORELLI when I got home. "Did you hear about DeChooch?"

"Yeah, Tom Bell called."

"This was really strange. I think DeChooch just left the car there to get run over."

"Tom thought that, too."

"Why would DeChooch do that?"

"Because he's crazy?"

I didn't think DeChooch was crazy. You want to see crazy? Take a look at Sophia. DeChooch had problems, physical and emotional. And his life was s...o...b..lling out of control. A few things went wrong and he tried to fix them and it just kept getting worse instead of better. I could see how everything was related now with the exception of Loretta Ricci and the Cadillac on the train tracks.

"One good thing happened tonight," I said. "Grandma showed up and started talking to Mary Maggie, telling her about the kidnapping. Grandma described the house DeChooch took her to. And Mary Maggie said it sounded like Pinwheel Soba's house."

"Soba lived in Ewing, off Olden Avenue. We have a file on him."

"That makes sense. I've seen DeChooch in that area. I always a.s.sumed Ronald was the draw, but maybe he was going to Soba's house. Can you get me the address?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I don't want you going over there, prowling around. DeChooch is unstable."

"It's my job."

"Don't get me started on your job."

"You didn't think my job was so bad when we first got together."

"That was different. It wasn't like you were going to be the mother of my children."

"I don't know if I even want children."

"Christ," Morelli said. "Don't ever say that to my mother or my grandmother. They'll put a contract out on you."

"You're really not going to give me the address?"

"No."

"I'll get it some other way."

"Fine," Morelli said. "I want no part of this."

"You're going to tell Tom Bell, aren't you?"

"Yes. Leave this to the police."

"This is war," I said to Morelli.

"Oh boy," he said. "War again."

I HUNG UP on Morelli and got the address from Mary Maggie. Now I had a problem. I had no one to partner with me. It was Sat.u.r.day night and Lula was out on a date. Ranger would respond, but I didn't want to impose on him so soon after the shooting. And besides, there was the price to pay. I got heart palpitations thinking about it. When I was close to him and the body chemistry was working I wanted him bad. When there was distance between us the possibility of sleeping with Ranger scared the h.e.l.l out of me.

If I waited until tomorrow I'd be one step behind the police. There was one person left, but the thought of working a case with him made me break out in a cold sweat. That person was Vinnie. When Vinnie had started the agency he'd done all his own apprehensions. As the business grew he'd added staff and put himself behind the desk. He still does the occasional apprehension, but it isn't his favorite thing. Vinnie is a good bail bondsman, but it's rumored that Vinnie isn't the world's most ethical bounty hunter.

I looked at the clock. I had to make a decision. I didn't want to procrastinate so long that I had to roust Vinnie out of bed.