LULA WAS HALFWAY through the pie when I pulled into Annie’s apartment complex. I parked in one of the guest spaces allotted to her unit, left Lula in the car, and went to Annie’s door. I rang the bell three times. No answer. I looked in her front windows. No sign that she was inside. Her car was parked in the lot. I went back to my car and called Annie’s cellphone.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hey,” I said. “Where are you?”
“Who is this?”
“It’s Stephanie Plum.”
“Well, then, I’m at the police station.”
“I know you aren’t at the police station. I hear noise in the background. Omigod, are you at the airport?”
“Of course not.”
“You are. I just heard them announce a flight to Miami.”
Annie disconnected.
I banged my head against the steering wheel and told Lula that Annie was at the airport.
“She’s sneaky,” Lula said. “You gotta respect that.”
“I’m going back to the office,” I said. “I want to talk to Vinnie.”
“You aren’t going to quit the deli job, are you? That would be a big mistake. Huge mistake. We got a future with sandwiches. I could see people traveling for hours just to get one of our sandwiches. We could be up there with the Amazon guy and the Facebook guy except with sandwiches. I’m thinking about taking out patents on my sandwich creations. You know that last sandwich that we made where we started to run out of stuff so we put in whatever was left?”
“The sandwich with the green sliced turkey?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking about getting a patent on that one and calling it the Garbage Truck.”
I thought it might be more accurately called the Salmonella Special.
I left the apartment complex, drove to the office, and parked.
“The place looks closed up,” Lula said.
We got out and went to the door. Locked. No lights on inside. I called Connie.
“Where are you?” I asked her.
“I’m still at the courthouse. Did you find Annie Gurky?”
“No. I’m at the office and it’s locked. Where’s Vinnie?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Try his cellphone.”
I called Vinnie’s cellphone and home phone. No answer on either.
“This is fate stepping in,” Lula said. “Fate doesn’t want you to quit the deli.”
I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, thinking fate was a load of baloney, when Morelli cruised down the street. He hooked an illegal U-turn and pulled in behind my car.
It was September and Jersey was still feeling like summer. Morelli was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. His hair was curling over his ears and down the back of his neck, and he had a five o’clock shadow a couple hours early. He smiled at me, and my doodah got happy.
“I was just about to call you,” he said. “Are you up for burgers tonight?”
Morelli and I don’t live together, but I keep a change of clothes and a toothbrush at his house. Burgers would be good. What followed would be even better.
“Burgers sound okay, but I might be late,” I said. “I’m helping out at the Red River Deli.”
“Yeah, she’s the new manager,” Lula said. “And I’m the assistant manager.”
Morelli wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me to the side of the building.
“I suppose you want to have a private conversation,” Lula yelled after us. “I’ll just wait in the car, being that I’m tired from eating all that pie anyways.”
“Are you serious?” Morelli asked me. “Manager?”
“The agency was awarded the deli on a bond foreclosure. Harry’s decided to keep it, and he asked me to be manager.”
“Do you know why he’s decided to keep it?” Morelli asked. “It’s because no one will buy it. It’s known as the Demon Deli. Sometimes it’s called the Death Deli. And on special occasions it’s the Deli of Doom or the One-Shoe Horror.”
“I hadn’t heard it called any of those names.”
“Do you know about the managers? Three managers have disappeared in two weeks. Always leaving a shoe behind. No other clue. Not a shred of evidence. They just went through the back door and evaporated.”
“Is it your case?”
“Jimmy Krut pulled it but I’m the secondary. I came in when the third manager disappeared.”
“I didn’t know about the disappearances when I took the job this morning. I found out when I got to the deli.”
“It hasn’t received a lot of publicity. The first manager who disappeared had been manager for six years. Elroy Ruiz. Entire family was in Mexico. He sent most of his money home. He went out to smoke some weed at eight-fifteen on a Monday night and never came back. They said it wasn’t the first time Elroy took off for a while. No one thought anything about it until Wednesday. Didn’t get reported to the police until Friday.”
“What about the shoe? Didn’t they think it was odd that his shoe was left in the parking lot?”
Morelli grinned. “Everyone thought he was on a good buzz.”
“Kenny Brown. Twenty-six years old. Ten years of restaurant experience. Started washing dishes when he was sixteen. Lived with his mother. Straight arrow except for his coke habit.”
“The drug?”
“The drink. Was on the job for a week. Took a bag of garbage out to the dumpster around nine o’clock and never came back. Everyone assumed he’d left for the night. One of the cooks found Brown’s car still parked in the lot the next day. Brown’s shoe was next to it. The third manager, Ryan Meier, lasted two days. The little fry cook freaked when he went out to look for the manager and tripped over the shoe in the dark.”
“Is this happening anyplace else?”
“No. Just at Red River Deli. And just to managers . . . so far.”
“Jeez.”
“Yup,” Morelli said. “That about sums it up. Tell me you’re not going back there.”
“I was going to quit but Vinnie isn’t in the office.”
“Send him a text message.”
I typed the message into my phone. As of this instant I quit my job as manager of Red River Deli.
“I’ll throw the burgers on the grill at six o’clock,” Morelli said.
I returned to my car and buckled myself in.
“Did you see him?” Lula asked. “It was the hot guy in black. Wulf. He was in a shiny black 4×4 pickup with oversized tires and bug eyes on the cab. He drove right past us and turned at the corner.”
“I wasn’t paying attention to the traffic,” I said. “I was talking to Morelli.”
“How’d that go?” Lula asked.
“Good. He’s grilling burgers tonight, and I texted Vinnie that I quit.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe this is a good thing. Maybe Vinnie will make me manager. It could get me a raise.”
“You aren’t afraid you’ll disappear?”
“I have it figured out. I won’t go near the parking lot. I’ll always go out the front door.”
“What about the garbage?”
“I’ll send it out with Stretch. He doesn’t have to worry on account of he’s a cook. And I’ll be the manager, so I can assign him garbage detail. Only problem is we have to find Vinnie, so we can make the job switch. Of course, you quit in a text message, so I guess I could text him that I’m taking over as manager.”
I slipped Wayne Kulicki’s file out of my bag. “I need to find this guy.”
“If you’re hard up for money now that you’re not a manager, I might hire you as a waitress or dishwasher or something.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you coming with me or are you going back to the deli?”
“I’ll ride with you so long as I get back to the deli by five o’clock.”
Wayne Kulicki was renting a small one-bedroom row house on the fringe of Chambersburg. He’d been a trust officer with a local bank prior to going bonkers and destroying the Eat and Go. He was currently unemployed.
I drove one block down Hamilton Avenue, turned into the Burg, and wound around the maze of streets that led to the row houses. Kulicki’s house was third from the corner and not in great shape. The paint was peeling off the clapboard, and one of his two front windows was cracked.
I parked in front of the house, and Connie called.
“Where are you?” Connie asked.
“I’m in front of Wayne Kulicki’s house. Where are you?”
“I’m in the parking lot behind the office. Vinnie’s car is here. And his shoe.”
“Is Vinnie’s foot in the shoe?”
“No.”
“Is Vinnie in the office?”
“No.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding,” Connie said. “I called his cell, and there’s no answer. I called his wife, and she hasn’t seen him since this morning.”
“Is there any sign of struggle? Blood?”
“No. None of that. Just the shoe.”
“This is too bizarre. Are you sure Vinnie isn’t hanging out somewhere watching you, laughing his ass off?”
“I don’t hear any laughing,” Connie said. “Do you think I should call the police? It’s not like I could definitely say I’m looking at a crime scene. And suppose I’m being punked, and I’m too stupid to know it?”
“Do you know Jimmy Krut?”
“Yes. I went to school with him,” Connie said.
“Give him a call. He’s the primary on the deli disappearances.”
I disconnected and told Lula about the shoe.
“That’s not fitting the profile,” Lula said. “That’s changing the modus operandi. Someone’s got a lot of nerve doing that. I was counting on being able to go out the front door. And Vinnie isn’t even the deli manager. Of course, he’s the bonds office manager so maybe that’s got a relationship there.”
“Do you still want to be manager of the deli?”
“Hell no. Those space aliens got a manager fixation.”
I was having a hard time believing that Vinnie had gotten beamed up, chopped up, or otherwise abducted. It was too weird. I needed more proof than a shoe. I needed a video, a bloody handprint, a text message. I needed something confirming that a disaster had occurred. I mean, anybody could lose a shoe, right? And how do we know it wasn’t planted by Vinnie so he could go off and get spanked by Madam Zaretsky?
“So, what are we going to do now?” Lula asked.
“We’re going to see if Wayne Kulicki is home.”
I knocked on his door, and he answered on the second knock.
“What?” he said.
He was fifty-six years old, five foot ten, balding, and soft around the middle. He was wearing a stained T-shirt and boxer shorts, and he was holding a gun.
“Whoa,” Lula said. “That’s no way to answer a door. Where’s your manners? You don’t say ‘What?’ in that tone. You say ‘Hello’ and you smile on account of there’s two ladies on your doorstep. And besides, what’s with the gun?”
“I’m thinking of killing myself.”
“If I was you I’d change my shirt first. You don’t want to clock out with a stained T-shirt,” Lula said.
“I represent Vincent Plum Bail Bonds,” I said to Kulicki. “You missed your court date and need to come with us to reschedule.”
“I can’t go now. I have an important decision to make.”
“Maybe we can help you,” Lula said. “What are you thinking about?”
“Killing myself.”
“There’s lots of decisions associated with that,” Lula said. “I assume you’re gonna shoot yourself in the head.”
“Yeah,” Kulicki said.
“Well, your head will most likely explode and make a big mess when you shoot yourself, so best to do it in the bathroom or kitchen. And then are you going to leave a note? And you’ll probably poop your pants so you gotta decide if boxers are the best choice or do you want to be wearing something more sturdy?”
“Mostly I was just thinking if I should do it,” Kulicki said.
“I’d advise against it,” Lula said. “It’s not something you can change your mind on after you do it. And suppose the bullet doesn’t go in exactly right and you turn yourself into an unsightly vegetable?”
Kulicki nodded. “That’s a concern.”
“You bet your ass,” Lula said. “Why do you want to kill yourself?”
“To begin with, I’m going to jail.”
“It might not be so bad,” Lula said. “I know lots of people in jail, and they’re doing okay. Besides, you could get off with community service or something. You don’t know for sure if you’ll get jail time.”
“Even if I don’t go to jail my life is ruined. All because of some stupid fries.”
“You got shorted at the drive-thru window, right?” Lula said.
“Yes. So, I went inside and asked for the manager.”
“And there was no manager, right?” Lula said.
“Right! And then some green-haired imbecile with a nose ring who was behind the counter told me I was fat and didn’t need more fries.”
“I had that same thing happen to me,” Lula said. “I hate that place.”
“So, I was still polite,” Kulicki said. “I told him he was rude and his comments were unprofessional and inappropriate.”
“You exhibited excellent self-control,” Lula said. “I told him he smelled like cucumber and cat pee, and I went around back where all the employees park and I keyed all their cars.”
“What happened next?” Lula asked.
“He gave me the finger and squirted mustard at me. It got all over my shirt and tie. And I guess I snapped. It was like I turned into the Hulk.”
“It says on your report that you destroyed personal property and then set fire to it.”
“The fire was an accident. One of the counter people tried to throw a pot of water at me but spilled it into the fryer by mistake, and WHOOSH next thing the whole kitchen was on fire.”
“In my book, you’re a hero,” Lula said.
“You’re the only one who thinks like that,” Kulicki said. “My wife is divorcing me. She got a restraining order against me and kicked me out of my house. My kids won’t talk to me. And I got fired, and no one else will hire me. So that’s why I’m thinking about killing myself.”
Lula nodded. “Those are all good reasons.”
“No, they aren’t good reasons,” I said. “I’m sure your kids will eventually understand. And maybe you’ll be better off without your wife. She’s not exactly supportive.”
“Yeah,” Lula said. “Do you have a good lawyer?”
“I can’t afford a lawyer,” he said. “I don’t have a job.”
“What kind of job are you looking for?”
“Any kind of job,” Kulicki said.
“Have you ever heard of the Red River Deli?” Lula asked him.
“No,” Kulicki said.
“Well, then, I have a good job for you,” Lula said. “How would you like to be manager of the Red River Deli?”
“I don’t know anything about running a deli.”
“Don’t matter,” Lula said. “We’re in charge of hiring, and we’d be willing to give you a shot at it.” She looked over at me. “Right?”
“We’re supposed to be returning him to the court,” I said to Lula.
“Yeah, but we could do that tomorrow,” Lula said. “I bet if we got this nice man a good job he’d be willing to turn himself in and get rebonded. And if he had a good job he probably wouldn’t even want to kill himself.”
“How much does it pay?” he asked.
“Five hundred a week on salary plus you get lunch,” Lula said.
“I guess I could try out the manager job,” he said. “It might be interesting after all those years at the bank.”
“You’d be working with some real colorful characters,” Lula said. “If you put some clothes on we could start you off right now.”