I caught a flash of black beyond the crane. It was Ranger's Mercedes.
“Just in time,” I said when he strolled over.
He looked down at the flattened, charred piece of scrap metal pressed into the macadam.
“That's the Porsche,” I said. “It exploded and caught fire and then the garbage truck fell over on it.”
“I especially like the part about the garbage truck.”
“I was afraid you might be mad.”
“Cars are easy to come by, Babe. People are harder to replace. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I was lucky. I was just waiting to see what you wanted to do with the Porsche.”
“Not much anybody's going to do with that dead soldier,” Ranger said. “Think we'll walk away from this one.”
“It was a great car.”
Ranger took one last look at it. “You might be more the Humvee type,” he said, steering me toward the Mercedes.
Streetlights were on when we crossed Broad and the twilight was deepening. Ranger rolled down Roebling and stopped in front of Rossini's. “I have to meet a guy here in a few minutes. Come in and have a drink, and we can have an early dinner when I'm done. This shouldn't take long.”
“Is this bounty hunter business?”
“Real estate,” Ranger said. “I'm meeting my lawyer. He has papers for me to sign.”
“You're buying a house?”
He opened the door for me. “Office building in Boston.”
Rossini's is an excellent Burg restaurant. A pleasant mix of cozy but elegant with linen tablecloths and napkins and gourmet food. Several men in suits stood at the small oak bar at the far end of the room. A few of the tables were already occupied, and in a half-?hour the room would be filled.
Ranger guided me to the bar and introduced me to his lawyer.
“Stephanie Plum,” the lawyer said. “You look familiar.”
“I didn't intend to burn down the funeral home,” I said. “It was an accident.”
He shook his head. “No, that's not it.” He smiled. “I've got it. You were married to Dickie Orr. He was briefly with our firm.”
“Everything Dickie did was brief,” I said. Especially our marriage. The pig.
Twenty minutes later, Ranger had his business concluded, his lawyer finished his drink and left, and we moved to a table. Ranger was black today. Black T-?shirt, black cargo pants, black boots, and black Gortex squall jacket. He left his jacket on, and everyone in the room knew why. Ranger wasn't the sort to leave his gun in the glove compartment.
We ordered, and Ranger slouched back in his chair. “You never say much about your marriage.”
“You never say much about anything.”
He smiled. “Low profile.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“Long time ago.”
I hadn't expected him to say that. “Any kids?”
He stared at me for a full minute before answering. “I have a daughter. She's nine. Lives with her mother in Florida.”