Free 09 To the Nines by Janet Evanovich Page A

kitchen shelf.” I put my foot on the ladder and it disintegrated in a shower of rust flakes and chunks of broken metal. The chunks of metal crashed onto the second-floor platform and the whole thing pulled away from the building, and with more of a sigh than a screech the entire bottom half of the fire escape landed on the ground in front of Lula.
    “Hunh,” Lula said.
    I looked down at Lula. Too far to jump. The only way off the platform was through Howie's apartment.
    “Are you coming down soon?” Lula asked. “I'm getting hungry.”
    “I don't want to break his window.”
    “You got any other choices?”
    I dialed Ranger on my cell phone.
    “I'm sort of stuck,” I told Ranger.
    Ten minutes later, Ranger opened Howie's apartment door, crossed the room, unlocked and raised the window, and looked out at the mangled mess of metal on the ground. He raised his eyes to mine and the almost smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Good job, Destructo.”
    “It wasn't my fault.”
    He dragged me through the window, into the apartment. “It never is.”
    “I wanted to see if there were any signs that Singh or the dog had been here. I don't have much to tie Howie to Singh, but once I get past Howie I have nothing.”
    Ranger closed and locked the window. “I don't see any boxes of dog biscuits.”
    “Poor little Boo.” The instant I said it I knew it was a mistake. I clapped my hand over my mouth and looked at Ranger.
    “I could help you with these maternal urges,” Ranger said.
    “Get me pregnant?”
    “I was going to suggest a visit to the animal shelter.” He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me close. “But I could get you pregnant if that's what you really want.”
    “Nice of you to want to help,” I said, “but I think I'll pass on both offers.”
    “Good decision.” He released my shirt. “Let's take a look at the rest of the apartment.”
    We moved from the living room to the bedroom and found more clutter, but no evidence of Singh or Boo. Howie had placed a double mattress on the floor and covered it with an inexpensive quilt. There were two cardboard boxes filled with neatly folded pants and shirts and underwear. The poor man's dresser. No closet in the room. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling. It was the only light source. A laptop computer with a cracked screen was on the floor near the only outlet.
    I looked around. “No bathroom.”
    “There's a common bathroom on the second floor.”
    Yikes. Howie shares a bathroom with the scabby ho and her crackhead friends. I tried to remember if he used gloves when he handled my food.
    “Spartan,” I said to Ranger.
    “Adequate,” Ranger said. He looked down at the mattress.
    “I don't think Howie's been sharing his apartment with anyone lately.”
    I was feeling a little panicky about being alone in a room with a mattress and Ranger, so I scooted out of the room and out of Howie's apartment. Ranger followed and closed and locked Howie's door. We descended the stairs in silence.
    Ranger was smiling when we got to the front foyer. Not the half smile, either. This was a full-on smile.
    I narrowed my eyes at the smile. “What?”
    “It's always fun to see you get worried about a mattress.”
    Lula hustled over. “So what's going on?” Lula asked. “You find anything up there? Any dog hairs in the bedroom?”
    “Nothing. It was clean,” I told her.
    Lula turned her attention to Ranger. “I didn't hear you breaking any doors down.”
    “It wasn't necessary to break the door down.”
    “How'd you do it then? You use a pick? You use some electronic gizmo? I wish I could open doors like you.”
    “I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you,” Ranger said.
    It was an old line, but it was worrisome when Ranger said it.
    “Hunh,” Lula said.
    “Tell me about Boo and Singh,” I said to Ranger. “Who saw them. Where were they?”
    “A kid working the drive-through window at Cluck in a Bucket saw him. He remembered Singh and