Lula sat up and found a pair of cuffs in her bag. The barrel guy’s fingers were starting to twitch, so I used the cuffs on him. I gave the stun gun to Lula and told her to give Martin Plover more volts if he moved. I ran to the SUV, got another set of cuffs and a roll of surgical gauze, and returned to the building. Martin’s wrist was bloody and mangled from Bob’s giant canines, so I wrapped it in gauze and then cuffed him.
Bob was sitting in the middle of the room. He looked dazed and he was drooling. I put my arm around him and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to shoot anyone, so I went with the flash-bang.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Diggery.
“I think we finally found him,” Diggery said. “The address is a little dicey so I’m hoping you can get here quick.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in a fancy neighborhood. Just look for the big white house on Lasso Way. It’s got one of those circle driveways and my truck is parked one house away. We’re in the backyard. The missus of the house is passed out in bed, like always. The mister is out, and I don’t want to be here when he comes home.”
“Lasso Way sounds familiar,” I said. “Who owns the house?”
“Martin Plover.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “He isn’t coming home any time soon. I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.”
I called Morelli.
“Where are you?” I asked him.
“Route 1. I should be home soon. Forty-five minutes, maybe.”
“I have something you need to see. It’s on Lasso Way. I don’t have the exact address but it’s Martin Plover’s house. Can you do a detour?”
“Are you going to be there?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll do a detour.”
The two Plovers and the barrel guy were gaining function, mumbling and rolling around.
“What are we going to do with these idiots?” Lula asked me.
“I don’t want to leave them here,” I said. “And I don’t want to wait for the police to show up. I guess we take them with us.”
“It’s going to be a tight fit in the SUV,” Lula said. “Especially with Nutsy and his big clown feet.”
Nutsy had his head up and his eyes open, looking like he was trying to pull himself together.
“I can call Rangeman and ask them for help,” I said.
“Or I can call Julio,” Lula said. “He isn’t far from here. I could have him bring his truck.”
Fifteen minutes later we had the three men in the back of Julio’s pickup. We walked Nutsy to my SUV and put him in back with Bob.
“What the heck were you thinking?” Lula said to Nutsy. “Who has a party out here?”
“Lots of people,” Nutsy said. “I’ve done parties here before. Mostly at the bounce thing. And besides, there were balloons on the mailbox.”
“That was Frankie’s idea,” Lula said. “He’s real creative that way.”
“He’s a crackhead lunatic,” Nutsy said.
“How’d you get all beat up?” Lula asked him.
“Frankie,” Nutsy said. “He was the only one here when I arrived. He opened the door and sucker punched me. And then I think he hit me over the head with something because I blacked out, and when I came around, I was strapped to the chair. He was trying to get me to tell him where you were and where the jewelry was, but I didn’t know, and I couldn’t think right. Then his father came in and yelled at him and told him to go help with the barrels. Martin didn’t care about where you were. He figured you’d come to him. And he was right.”
“It was lucky that you were living with your mother, and she thought to call Stephanie,” Lula said.
“It was probably Sissy who thought of that,” Nutsy said. “She talked Duncan into coming home. She drove him back yesterday. We’re all hiding at my parents’ house.”
“I can’t see Duncan getting a harsh sentence,” I said. “After the way everything has played out, he might just get community service.”
“Whatever it is, Sissy will be there for him,” Nutsy said.
“That’s nice,” Lula said. “It’s almost a happy ending. It would be good if you had a happy ending now.”
“That’s the best part,” Nutsy said. “A publisher made an offer for a collection of my stories. I didn’t get much money for it, but it’s a start.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I led the parade to Martin Plover’s house on Lasso Way. The three men were handcuffed, and Julio had wrapped them in duct tape as a further precaution. We left them in the truck and walked around to the backyard, where Diggery and Snacker were standing guard over an open grave.
Julio made the sign of the cross. “Holy mother,” he said.
“Snacker’s finally happy about this one,” Diggery said. “He meets all the criteria. He even has some tattoo left on his hand. I should have thought of this first off. After all those others didn’t work out, I got to remembering about when you first hired me. You said the shooting took place behind Plover’s jewelry store. And it was right after Plover was robbed. In the beginning I was using that as my jumping-off spot, but then a couple days ago I thought what if Plover was the shooter. Or maybe his kid was involved. Snacker had a run-in with the kid in a bar once and he said the kid was scary. So suppose the Plovers were involved somehow. If you’re an amateur or if you’re short on time, where do you put fresh kill? In your own backyard, right? This backyard is nice and private too. It’s got a big hedge going around it. And it’s got flower beds, so the ground is easy for digging.”
Nutsy was standing beside me with his oversize clown shoes hanging over the edge of the grave.
“What do you think?” I asked him. “Could this be Stump?”
Nutsy nodded. “I’m pretty sure it’s Stump. The size and the clothes and the hair that’s remaining are all right. And the tattoo looks right.”
I heard a car door slam in the front of the house and moments later Morelli came up behind me.
“What have we got here?” he asked.
“Stump,” I said. “The last piece to the puzzle.”
“I didn’t dig him up,” Diggery said to Morelli. “I’m retired. Snacker and me were just called as professional authorities.”
“Understood,” Morelli said. “I appreciate your help.” He turned to me. “Do we know who dug him up?”
“Some random,” I said. “Might have been a pack of dogs.”
“Yeah, we’ll go with dogs,” Morelli said.
He spied Bob pressed against my leg and he got down on one knee and hugged Bob. Bob looked like he was going to burst with happiness. Morelli looked pretty happy about it all too.
“There are three men duct-taped in the back of a pickup truck in front of this house,” Morelli said. “I’m pretty sure one of them is Martin Plover.”
“There’s a bunch of bullets buried in Stump, and they should match the gun Martin keeps in his store. I have two witnesses who saw him shoot an unarmed homeless man.”
“Stump is the unarmed homeless man?” Morelli asked.
“Yep.”
“I also have the jewelry that was stolen from the store. All fake. And there’s a small building on Shirley Street that contains three steel drums that were meant for Lula, Nutsy, and me. Bob saved the day on that one. He deserves a steak for dinner tomorrow.”
“You’ve been busy,” Morelli said.
“It started out simple and sort of mushroomed.”
“I’m going to call this in,” he said. “In ten minutes it’s going to be a circus here. Anyone who doesn’t want to be part of the circus should leave.”
“I’ll tell Diggery.”