Free One for the Money by Janet Evanovich Page B

wondering what sort of person would be willing and able to disarm Morelli. I knocked at 4B and waited. I knocked again, loud enough to bruise my knuckles. The door was thrown open and my “what kind of person” question was answered. John Kuzack was 6' 4" tall, weighed about two hundred and forty pounds, had his graying hair pulled into a ponytail, and had a rattler tattooed onto his forehead. He was holding a TV Guide in one hand and a can of beer in the other. The sweet aroma of pot drifted out of his hazy apartment. Vietnam vet, I thought. Airborne.
“John Kuzack?”
He squinted down at me. “What can I do for you?”
“I'm trying to get a lead on Joe Morelli. I was hoping you could tell me something about Carmen Sanchez.”
“You a cop?”
“I work for Vincent Plum. He posted the bond on Morelli.”
“I didn't know Carmen Sanchez real good,” he said. “I'd seen her around. Said hello to her a couple times. She seemed nice enough. I was coming up the stairs when I heard the gunshot.”
“Mrs. Santiago, on the second floor, said you subdued the gunman.”
“Yeah. I didn't know he was a cop. All I knew was he'd shot someone, and he was still armed. There were a lot of people coming into the hall, and he was telling them all to stay away. I figured it wasn't a good situation, so I hit him with a six-pack. Knocked him out cold.”
A six-pack? I almost laughed out loud. The police report had stated that Morelli had been hit with a blunt instrument. It hadn't said anything about a six-pack.
“That was very brave.”
He grinned. “Hell, bravery didn't have anything to do with it. I was shitfaced.”
“Do you know what happened to Carmen?”
“Nope. Guess she disappeared in the scuffle.”
“And you haven't seen her since?”
“Nope.”
“How about the missing male witness? Mrs. Santiago said there was a man with a flattened nose . . .”
“I remember seeing him, but that's about it.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Probably.”
“Do you think there's anyone else in the building who might know more about the missing man?”
“Edleman was the only other person who got a good look at the guy.”
“Is Edleman a tenant here?”
“Edleman was a tenant here. He got hit by a car last week. Right in front of the building. Hit and run.”
My stomach gave a nervous flutter. “You don't suppose Edleman's s death ties in to the Kulesza murder, do you?”
“No way of knowing.”
I thanked Kuzack for his time and took the stairs slowly, enjoying the buzz from his secondary smoke.
It was close to noon, and the day was heating up. I'd gone with a suit and heels this morning, trying to look respectable and trust inspiring. I'd left the windows rolled down when I'd parked in front of Carmen's building, half hoping someone would steal my car. No one had, so I slouched behind the wheel and finished off the Fig Newtons I'd filched from my mom's pantry. I hadn't found out a whole lot from Carmen's neighbors, but at least I hadn't been attacked or fallen down a flight of stairs.
Morelli's apartment was next on my list.

Stephanie Plum 1 - One for the Money
5

I'D CALLED RANGER AND ASKED FOR HELP, since I was too chicken to do breaking and entering on my own. When I pulled into the lot, Ranger was waiting. He was all in black. Sleeveless black T-shirt and black fatigue-type pants. He was leaning against a gleaming black Mercedes that had enough antennae on it to get to Mars. I parked several spaces away so my exhaust wouldn't tarnish his finish.
“Your car?” I asked. As if anyone else could possibly belong to this car.
“Life's been good to me.” His eyes slid to my Nova. “Nice paint job,” he said. “You been on Stark Street?”
“Yes, and they stole my radio.”
“Heh, heh, heh. Good of you to make a contribution to the less fortunate.”
“I'm willing to contribute the entire car, but no one wants it.”
“Just 'cause the dudes be crazy don't mean they be stupid.” He nodded toward