Plum Lovin', Page 2

  “I had a huge late breakfast. I'm stuffed.”

  “Yeah, but we're talking about primo doughnuts here.”

  Bob was in the cargo area of the Escape. His head was over the backseat, and he was panting in our direction.

  “That dog could use a breath mint,” Lula said.

  “Try a doughnut.”

  Lula flipped Bob a doughnut. Bob caught the doughnut midair and settled down to enjoy it.

  “Where the heck are we going?” Lula wanted to know. “I thought we were going after Annie Hart. Don't she live in North Trenton?”

  “It's complicated. I had to make a deal. Annie Hart is inaccessible until I wrap up her caseload.”

  “Are you shitting me? And what's that mean anyways? Does that mean you're taking on her customers? Personally, I can't see you doing that. I read her file. She said she was a relationship expert, and I figured that's code for 'ho.”

  “It's not like that. It's more like matchmaking. First person on my list is Charlene Klinger. She's forty-two and divorced, and we need to find her true love.”

  “Oh boy, true love. That's a bitch. You sure she wouldn't be satisfied if we just found her some nasty sweaty sex? I got a couple names in my book for that one.”

  “I'm pretty sure it has to be true love.”

  Stephanie Plum 12.5 - Plum Lovin

  Chapter 2

  Charlene Klinger was behind the counter at the DMV, working the registration-only line. She was prettier in person. Her hair still lacked style, but it was thick and glossy and suited her. Her face was animated, and she smiled a lot. After thirty-five minutes, Lula and I had inched our way up to her. I introduced myself to Charlene and explained I was substituting for Annie Hart.

  “That woman is a nut,” Charlene said. “I don't know where she came from, but good riddance if she's gone. And I don't need a substitute nutcase. I'm doing fine. I don't want a man in my life. I've got enough problems.”

  “Didn't you hire Annie?”

  “Heck no. She just popped into my kitchen one day. Happens to me all the time. The kids leave the door open and next thing I know, some half-starved cat's wandered into the house and won't leave.”

  “I was under the impression you wanted to find your true love,” I said to Charlene.

  Charlene looked at the powdered sugar that had sifted onto Lula's chest. “I'd sooner find a bag of doughnuts. Don't have to shave your legs to enjoy a bag of doughnuts.”

  “Amen to that,” Lula said.

  “You're going to have to move along if you don't want to register something,” Charlene said. “You hold up the line too long and this crowd will get ugly.”

  Lula and I left the building and hustled to my car. It was freezing cold, and we walked with our heads tucked down against the wind.

  “Now what?” Lula wanted to know.

  I slid behind the wheel and pulled another file out of the envelope. “I have more.”

  Lula picked a doughnut out of the bag. “Me, too.”

  “Yesterday you told me you were going on a diet.”

  “Yeah, but it's something new. It's called the afternoon diet. You get to eat all you want until noon. Then the diet starts.”

  “Next up is Gary Martin. Runs a vet clinic on Route 1. Never been married. Looks like a nice guy” I passed his picture to Lula.

  “He looks like a dork,” Lula said. “He's wearing a bow tie, and he's got a comb-over. He don't need a matchmaker. He needs a woman with scissors.”

  I put the car in gear and rolled out of the lot. “According to Annie's file, he needs help getting his girlfriend back.”

  “And we're gonna help him? Excuse me if I'm a skeptic, but it don't seem to me we're all that good at relationships. I only date losers, and you have commitment issues. Plus, you can't even make up your mind about who you want as your commitment recipient. You're double-dipping with Morelli and Ranger.”

  “I'm not double-dipping.”

  “You're mentally double-dipping.”

  “That doesn't count. Everyone mentally double-dips. Keep your eyes open for Municipal Animal Hospital.”

  The Municipal Animal Hospital waiting room was bright and cheery and sparkling clean. And it was empty of patients. A young woman sat behind the big wraparound desk. She was also sparkling clean, but she didn't look all that cheery.

  'To,“ Lula said to her. ”I'm Lula, and this here's the world-famous Stephanie Plum, and we're looking for Gary Martin."

  “He's in surgery,” the woman said. “Office hours start at one o'clock.”

  “Maybe he could squeeze us in between surgeries,” Lula said. “It's a personal matter.”

  “Dr. Martin doesn't like to be disturbed when he's in surgery.”

  “See, here's the thing,” Lula said. “I got a doughnut with my name on it out in the car, and I don't want to sit around until one o'clock. I mean, it's not like of Gary's doing open heart. He's cutting the balls off a cat, right?”

  I pointed stiff-armed to the door. “Out,” I said to Lula.

  “Just trying to communicate with Miss Stick-up-her-ass,” Lula said.

  “Out!”

  I waited until Lula left, and then I turned to the receptionist. “Maybe I could leave a note for Dr. Martin.”

  There was a long awkward pause, and I assumed the receptionist was contemplating hitting the police button on the security system… or at the very least unleashing Dobermans from a holding pen. This was a vet office. They had dogs, right?

  Finally, the woman exhaled and slid a pad and pen my way. “I guess that would be okay,” she said.

  I was halfway through the note when Gary Martin emerged from a back room and approached the receptionist.

  “Any emergency calls?” he asked her. “Any, um, personal calls?”

  She shook her head, no.

  “Are you sure? Not a single personal call?”

  Gary Martin looked like a big, forty-year-old cherub. He was about five foot six with chubby cheeks and a soft middle. He was wearing a light blue lab coat that was unbuttoned over tan slacks and a yellow button-down shirt. He was entirely adorable in a dorky kind of way. And he was clearly disappointed that no one had called.

  I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. “Annie Hart is temporarily indisposed,” I said. “I'm her replacement.”

  I wasn't sure what to expect after Charlene Klinger, but

  Gary Martin seemed excited to see me. He ushered me into his little office and closed the door.

  “I've been waiting,” he said. “I was expecting Ms. Hart, but I'm sure you're wonderful, too.”

  “I understand you need help getting your girlfriend back.”

  “I don't know what happened. Two weeks ago, she just said it was over. I don't know what went wrong. I must have done something terrible, but I don't know what it was. I was going to ask her to marry me on Valentine's Day. And now I don't know what to do. She won't talk to me on the phone, and she won't let me into her apartment. And last time I tried to talk to her she said I was a pest. A pest!”

  “I'm curious,” I said. “How did you hear about Annie Hart?”

  “It was odd. I found her card in my jacket pocket. Someone must have given it to me. It said Ms. Hart was a relationship expert… and I thought, that's just what I need! So I called Ms. Hart, and we had a meeting. That was four days ago.” Martin took a photo off his desktop and handed it to me. “Ms. Hart wanted a picture of Loretta.”

  The sticky note attached to the back told me this was Loretta Flack, and Martin had neatly printed Loretta's address and phone number below her name. The front of the photo showed a smiling blond with a Barbie doll shape. It had been taken at some sort of street fair, and she was holding a teddy bear.

  “She's a bartender,” Martin said. “She works the lunch shift at Beetle Bumpkin. It's a sports bar just up the road. They have good sandwiches at lunchtime, but Loretta said she didn't want me in there anymore.”

  “She's pretty,” I said.


  “Yes, she's way too pretty for me. And probably too young. I don't know why she even went out with me in the first place. I thought maybe you could tell her I joined a gym, and I have a private trainer now. And I think my hair is growing back.”

  I looked up at the three strands of hair plastered to the top of his dome.

  “I thought I might have seen some fuzz this morning,” Gary Martin said.

  “Anything else you want me to tell her?”

  “I'll leave it up to you. You're a relationship expert, right? I mean, you know the right things to say”

  Oh boy, we were in trouble. I never said the right thing. Lula was right. I was a relationship disaster.

  “Sure,” I told him. “Leave it to me. I'll get this fixed up.”

  Lula settled her ass on a Beetle Bumpkin barstool and looked around. “Beetle Bumpkin is one of them new mini chains,” she said. “There's one just opened downtown. The sandwiches are good because they fry them. Everything's fried. That's the Beetle Bumpkin secret ingredient.”

  Loretta Flack was taking an order at the other end of the bar. Her hair was yellow under the Bumpkin bar lights, and her breasts were packed into a red Beetle Bumpkin T-shirt. I figured she was maybe fifteen years younger than Gary Martin.

  “Let me do the talking this time,” I said to Lula.

  “My lips are sealed. I'm only here in case you need backup. Like suppose she tries some karate moves or she pulls a gun on you.”

  “I don't think that's going to happen.”

  “You never know. Best to be prepared, I always say. People are unpredictable. I learned that in my human behavior course at the community college. Did I ever tell you I took a human behavior course?”

  “Yes.”

  “It could help in this situation. It's just about qualified me to be a relationship expert. Plus I got a lot of expertise all those years when I was a 'ho. I bet I could relationship the ass off you.”

  “No doubt. Let me talk anyway.”

  Loretta made her way down to us. “Ladies?” she said.

  “Diet Coke and tuna on rye,” I told her.

  “I'll have the Beetle special sandwich and cheese fries and a Coke,” Lula said.

  I looked at my watch. It was twelve-thirty. “What about your afternoon diet?”

  "It's more like a suggestion than a rule. And anyway, I

  thought since we're working on these cases I should keep my strength up. I might get all weak and hypoglycemic if I don't have cheese fries."

  “So,” Loretta said. “Working ladies.”

  “Yep. We're relationship experts,” Lula said. “We fix up relationships. You got any that needs fixin'?”

  “No. I'm good with relationships. I'm in a dreamy one right now. He's a lawyer.”

  “You don't look like the lawyer type,” Lula said. “You look like… some other type.”

  Loretta drew my drink and slid it down the bar at me. “I'm lots of types. This is a really good job for meeting men. I go out with them and get them to buy me some jewelry and then when it looks like they're gonna say the L word I split. I got this necklace I'm wearing from a veterinarian.”

  “It's a good necklace,” Lula said. “And you look like the veterinarian type more than the lawyer type. Maybe you should go back with him.”

  “He was a loser,” Loretta said. “He kept talking about how he wanted a family.” She wrinkled her nose. “Eeeuw, kids. Ick. I hate kids. And he was always rushing off to save some dumb cat or dog. I mean, what's with that? Who wants a boyfriend who makes you rush through dessert just because some cat got run over by a dump truck?”

  “What a creep,” Lula said. “Imagine rushing you through dessert. I wouldn't stand for that.”

  “The lawyer's a lot better,” Loretta said. “He has a wife and kids, so I don't have to worry about the L word. The L word is okay if it's insincere.”

  “Boy you got it all figured out,” Lula said.

  Loretta moved off to the other end of the bar.

  “What was that?” I asked Lula. “You were supposed to let me do the talking.”

  “Well excuse me, Ms. Control Freak. It just worked out this way. You weren't taking advantage of the moment.”

  Turned out it didn't matter a whole lot anyway. I liked Gary Martin, and I hated Loretta Flack. Loretta Flack was bitchzilla. I couldn't in good conscience fix things so that Martin was stuck with Flack.

  The sandwiches and fries arrived, and we dug in.

  “I'm liking this,” Lula said. “We didn't get spit on or shot at all day, and I feel like a big Cupid. Of course, we haven't gotten anybody together like we're supposed to, but it feels like love is in the air. Don't you feel love in the air? How many more cases we got?”

  “Three. Next up is Larry Burlew. He's got his eye on someone but can't get to meet her. I've already skimmed the file. Burlew is a butcher. Works at Sal's Meat Market on Broad. The woman of his dreams works in the coffee shop across the street. According to Annie's notes, Burlew is shy.”

  “That's cute,” Lula said. “A shy butcher. I got a good feeling about him. And I wouldn't mind some pork chops for dinner tonight.”

  Stephanie Plum 12.5 - Plum Lovin

  Chapter 3

  Larry Burlew was a big guy. He was over six feet tall, weighed maybe 230 pounds, and had hands like hamhocks. He wasn't bad looking, and he wasn't good looking. Mostly he looked like a butcher… possibly because his white butcher's apron was decorated with meat marinade and chicken guts.

  The butcher shop was empty of customers when we entered. Burlew was the lone butcher, and he was slicing ribs and arranging them in the display case.

  I introduced myself as Annie's assistant, and Burlew blushed red from the collar of his white T-shirt to the roots of his buzz-cut hair.

  “Real nice to meet you,” he said softly. “I hope this isn't too much trouble. I feel kind of silly asking for help like this, but Ms. Hart came into the shop and left her card, and I just thought…”

  “Don't worry about it,” Lula said. “It's what we do. We're the fixer-upper bitches. We live to fix shit.”

  “I understand you want to get together with someone?” I asked Burlew.

  “There's this girl that I like. I think she's around my age. I see her every day and she's nice to me, but in a professional way. And sometimes I try to talk to her, but there's always lots of people around, and I never know what to say. I'm a big dummy when it comes to girls.”

  “Okay,” I said, “give me all the necessary information. Who is she?”

  “She's right across the street,” Burlew said. “She works in the coffee shop. Every morning I go in to get coffee and she always gets it just right. She always gives me the perfect amount of cream. And it's never too hot. Her name is Jet. That's what it says on her name tag. I don't know more than that. She's the one with the shiny black hair.”

  I looked at the coffee shop. It had big plate-glass windows in the front, making it possible to check out the action inside. There were three women working behind the counter and a bunch of customers lined up waiting for service. I shifted my attention back to Burlew and saw he was watching Jet, mesmerized by the sight of her.