Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,48

And suddenly nothing mattered but a Ranger-induced orgasm. I wanted one. Now. The hell with Eddie DeChooch. One of these days he'd drive himself into a bridge abutment and that'd be the end of that.

"Yes, but what about the wedding?" a small voice murmured from deep in my brain.

Shut up, I told the voice. I'll worry about it later.

"And what about your legs?" the voice asked. "Did you shave your legs this morning?"

Cripes, I was barely able to breathe with needing this goddamn orgasm and now I was supposed to worry about the hair on my legs! Where's the justice in this world? Why me? Why am I the one worrying about the hair on my legs? Why is it always the woman worrying about the freaking hair?

"Earth to Steph," Ranger said.

"If we do it now does it count as a credit toward capturing DeChooch?"

"We aren't doing it now."

"Why not?"

"We're in a parking garage. And by the time I get you out of the garage you'll have changed your mind."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So what's the point here?"

"The point is that you can break down a person's defense system if you apply the right pressure."

"Are you telling me this was just a demonstration? You got me into this . . . this state to prove a point?"

His hands were still at my waist, holding me against him. "How serious is this state?" he asked.

If it was any more serious I'd spontaneously combust. "It's not that serious," I told him.

"Liar."

"How serious is your state?"

"Frighteningly serious."

"You're complicating my life."

He opened the car door for me. "Get in. Ronald DeChooch is next on the list."

The front room to the paving company offices was empty when Ranger and I walked in. A young guy poked his head around a corner and asked what we wanted. We said we wanted to talk to Ronald. Thirty seconds later Ronald strolled in from somewhere in the back of the building.

"I heard an old lady popped you in the eye, but I didn't realize she did such a good job," Ronald said to me. "That's a first-class shiner."

"Have you seen your uncle lately?" Ranger asked Ronald.

"No, but I heard he was involved in the accident outside the funeral parlor. He shouldn't be driving at night."

"The car he was driving belongs to Mary Maggie Mason," I said. "Do you know her?"

"I've seen her around." He looked at Ranger. "Are you working this case, too?"

Ranger gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Good to know," Ronald said.

"What was that?" I asked Ranger when we got outside. "Was that what I think it was? Was that hemorrhoid saying it made a difference with you on board? Like, now he was going to take the search seriously?"

"Let's take a look at Dougie's house," Ranger said.

Dougie's house hadn't changed since the last time I was there. No evidence of a new search. No evidence that Dougie or Mooner had passed through. Ranger and I went room by room. I filled Ranger in on the previous searches and the missing pot roast.

"Do you think it's significant that they took a pot roast?" I asked Ranger.

"One of life's mysteries," Ranger said.

We walked around back and snooped in Dougie's garage.

The little yappy dog that lives next door to Dougie left his post on the Belskis' back porch and skipped around us, yipping and snapping at our pants legs.

"Think anyone would notice if I shot him?" Ranger asked.

"I think Mrs. Belski would come after you with a meat cleaver."

"Have you talked to Mrs. Belski about the people searching the house?"

I smacked myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand. Why hadn't I thought to talk to Mrs. Belski? "No."

The Belskis have lived in their row house forever. They're in their sixties now. Hard-working, sturdy Polish stock. Mr. Belski is retired from Stucky Tool and Die Company. Mrs. Belski raised seven children. And now they have Dougie for a neighbor. Lesser people would have been at war with Dougie, but the Belskis have accepted their fate as God's will and coexist.

The Belskis' back door opened, and Mrs. Belski stuck her head out. "Is Spotty bothering you?"

"Nope," I said. "Spotty is fine."

"He gets excited when he sees strangers," Mrs. Belski said, coming across the yard to get Spotty.

"I understand there've been some strangers going through Dougie's house."

"There are always strangers in Dougie's house. Were you there when he held his Star Trek party?" She shook her head. "Such goings-on."

"How about lately? In the last couple days."

Mrs. Belski scooped