Hot Six, Page 22

  Mitchell's eyes were bugged out of his head and his face was purple. “I'm gonna fucking kill that dog. I'm gonna fucking kill him. You know what he did? He did number two in my car. And then he threw up. What are you feeding him? Don't you know nothing about dogs? What kind of a dog watcher are you?”

  “He ate Grandma's prunes,” I said.

  Mitchell had his hands to his head. “No fucking kidding.”

  I loaded Bob into Big Blue, locked the doors, and drove over the lawn to the street to avoid Habib and Mitchell.

  My mother and grandmother were waiting for me, looking through the glass storm door, when I docked the Buick in front of their house.

  “We always know when you're coming to visit,” Grandma said. “We can hear this car a mile away.”

  No fucking kidding.

  “Where's your jacket?” my mother wanted to know. “Aren't you cold?”

  “I didn't have time to take a jacket,” I said. “It's a long story. Probably you don't want to hear it.”

  “I want to hear it,” Grandma said. “I bet it's a pip.”

  “I need to make a phone call first.”

  “You can do that while I put the food on the table,” my mother said. “Everything's done.”

  I used the kitchen phone to call Morelli. “I have a favor to ask,” I said when he answered.

  “Good. I love when you're indebted to me.”

  “I'd like you to take care of Bob for a while.”

  “You aren't pulling a Simon, are you?”

  “No!”

  “So what's this about?”

  “You know how you have police business that you can't explain to me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I can't explain this to you. At least not in my mother's kitchen.”

  Grandma bustled into the kitchen. “Is that Joseph on the phone? Tell him we have plenty of fried chicken, but he'll have to get a move on if he wants some.”

  “He doesn't like fried chicken.”

  “I love fried chicken,” Joe said. “I'll be right over.”

  “No!”

  Too late. He'd already disconnected. “Set an extra plate,” I said.

  Grandma was at the table and looked confused. “Is this extra plate for Bob or Joe?”

  “Joe. Bob's stomach is on the blink.”

  “No wonder,” Grandma said. “What with all those prunes. And then he ate a box of Frosted Flakes and a bag of marshmallows. I was cleaning your cupboards while I waited for Louise to come over, and I went to use the bathroom, and when I got back there was nothing on the counter.”

  I stroked Bob's head. He was such a dopey dog. Not nearly as smart as Rex. Not even smart enough to pass on the prunes. Still, he had his moments. He had wonderful big brown eyes. And I was a sucker for brown eyes. And he was good company. He never tried to change my radio station, and he never once mentioned my pimple. All right, so I was sort of attached to Bob. In fact, maybe I'd been ready to rip Mitchell's heart out with my bare hands when he dognapped the big guy. I gave Bob a hug. He was good to hug, too. “You're going home with Joe tonight,” I told him. “You'll be safe there.”

  My mother had the fried chicken on the table, along with biscuits and red cabbage and broccoli. No one would touch the broccoli, but my mother put it out anyway, because it was healthy.

  Joe let himself in and took his seat, next to me.

  “How'd it go today?” Grandma asked Joe. “Catch any murderers?”

  “Not today, but I have hopes for tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “Well no, not really.”

  “How'd it go with Ranger?”

  Morelli spooned red cabbage onto his plate. “As expected.”

  “He told me to butt out. Is that what you want me to do, too?”

  “Yeah, but I'm smart enough not to tell you to do it. That's like waving a red flag in front of you.” He took a piece of chicken. “Did you declare war?”

  “Sort of. I refused his offer of a safe house.”

  “Are you in enough danger to need a safe house?”

  “I don't know. It feels extreme.”

  Morelli slid his hand along the back of my chair. “My house is safe. You could move in with Bob and me. And besides, you do owe me a favor, you know.”

  “You want to call in the marker already?”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  The phone rang in the kitchen and Grandma went to answer it. “It's for Stephanie,” she yelled. “It's Lula.”

  “I've been trying to get in touch with you all afternoon,” Lula said. “You don't answer nothing. You don't have your cell phone working. And you never answer your pager. What's wrong with the pager?”

  “I can't afford both the pager and the cell phone, so I chose the cell phone. What's up?”

  “They found Cynthia Lotte sitting in that Porsche, and she was dead as a doorknob. I tell you, you wouldn't get me to sit in that car. You sit in that car, and you end up dead.”

  “When did this happen? How do you know?”

  “They found her this afternoon, in the parking garage on Third Street. Connie and me heard it over the police band. And on top of that, I got a skip for you. Vinnie was total postal on account of you were out of touch, and there's no one else to take this skip.”

  “What about Joyce? What about Frankie Defrances?”

  “We can't raise Joyce either. She's not answering her page. And Frankie just had a hernia operation.”

  “I'll come in to the office first thing in the morning.”

  “No way. Vinnie says you gotta get this guy tonight, before he flies. Vinnie knows right where he is. He gave me the papers.”

  “How much is it worth?”

  “It's a hundred-thousand-dollar bond. Vinnie's cutting you ten percent.”

  Be still, my heart. “I'll pick you up in about twenty minutes.”

  I went back to the table, wrapped two pieces of chicken in my napkin, and dropped the napkin into my shoulder bag. I gave Bob a hug and Morelli a peck on the cheek. “I've got to go,” I said. “I have to pick up a skip.”

  Morelli didn't look happy. “Will I see you later?”

  “Probably. Besides paying off on my debt, I need to talk to you about Cynthia Lotte.”

  “I knew you'd get around to that.”

  LULA WAS WAITING outside when I got to her house. “I got the papers,” she said, “and it don't sound too bad. His name's Elwood Steiger, and he's up on a drug charge. He was trying to make meth in his mother's garage, but the whole neighborhood reeked of the P2P. Guess one of the neighbors called the police. Anyway, his mother put her house up as bond, and now she's afraid ol' Elwood's gonna take a trip to Mexico. He missed his court date on Friday, and Mom found plane tickets in his sock drawer. So she ratted on him to Vinnie.”

  “Where do we find him?”

  “According to his mama, he's one of them Star Trek fanatics. And there's some kind of Star Trek gig going on tonight. She gave me an address.”

  I looked at the address and groaned. It was Dougie's house. “I know the guy who lives here,” I said. “Dougie Kruper.”

  Lula slapped her head. “I knew that sounded familiar.”

  “I don't want anyone to get hurt when we make this apprehension,” I said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We're not going in there like gangbusters with guns drawn.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In fact, we're not going to use guns at all.”

  “I hear you.”

  I looked at the purse in her lap. “You have a gun in there?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “You have a gun on your hip?”

  “Glock.”

  “Ankle holster?”

  “Only sissies use ankle holsters,” Lula said.

  “I want you to leave the guns in the car.”

  “These are Trekkies we're dealing with. They could put the Vulcan death grip on us.”

  “In the car!” I yelled.<
br />
  “Boy, no need to get PMS over it.” Lula looked out the window. “Looks like a party going on at Dougie's.”

  There were several cars parked in front, and the house lights were blazing. The front door was open and the Mooner was on the stoop. I parked several houses away, and Lula and I walked back to the Mooner.

  “Hey, dude,” Moon said when he saw me, “welcome to the Trekarama.”

  “What's going on?”

  “This is the Dougster's new business. Trekarama. We thought of it all ourselves. And the Dougster's the Trekmaster. Is that awesome, dude? This is the business of the new millennium. It's gonna be big, you know? We're gonna like, franchise.”

  “What the hell's a Trekarama?” Lula asked.

  “It's a social club, dude. It's a place of worship. It's a shrine to the men and women who went where no man has gone before.”

  “Before what?”

  The Mooner gazed off into space, transfixed. “Before it all.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It'll cost you five bucks to get inside,” the Mooner said.

  I gave him ten, and Lula and I pushed through the crush at the door.

  “Never saw so many geeks all in one spot in my life,” Lula said. “Except for that Klingon over there by the stairs. He ain't half bad.”

  We scanned the room, looking for Steiger, trying to identify him from his file photo. Problem was, some of the Trekkies were in costume, dressed like their favorite Star Trek characters.

  Dougie rushed up to us. “Welcome to Trekarama. There's hors d'oeuvres and beverages over in the corner by the Romulan, and we're gonna start showing the films in about ten minutes. The hors d'oeuvres are real good. They're, uh, liquidation stock.”

  Translation: hijacked goods that were rotting in storage somewhere because he got closed down.

  Lula knocked on Dougie's head with her knuckles. “Hello, anybody home in there. Do we look like a couple dumb-ass Trekkies?”

  “Uh, well . . .”

  “We're just looking around,” I said to Dougie.

  “Like tourists?”

  “Maybe I'll be a tourist over by that fine Klingon,” Lula said.

  Stephanie Plum 6 - Hot Six

  13

  LULA AND I moved deeper into the room, pushing our way through the crowd, looking for Elwood. He was nineteen years old. My height and slim. Sandy blond hair. Second-time offender. I didn't want to freak him out. I wanted to very quietly move him outside and slip the cuffs on him.

  “Hey,” Lula said, “you see that little dude in the Captain Kirk suit? What do you think?”

  I squinted across the room. “Looks like it could be him,” I said.

  We worked our way over, and I came up beside him. “Steve?” I said. “Steve Miller?”

  Captain Kirk blinked at me. “No. Sorry.”

  “I'm meeting a blind date here,” I said. “He told me he'd be dressed as an officer.” I extended my hand. “I'm Stephanie Plum.”

  He shook my hand. “Elwood Steiger.”

  Bingo.

  “Boy, it's really hot in here,” I said. “I'm going outside for some air. Want to join me?”

  He looked around, nervous, needing to see if he was missing anything. “I don't know. I don't think so. They said they were showing the films right away.”

  Lesson number one: no point in coming on to a Trekkie when the films are up. So I had a choice. I could force the issue, or I could wait around until he decided to leave. If he stayed to the end and left en masse with everyone else, it could be a problem.

  Mooner ambled over. “Wow, nice to see you two getting it on. Elwood here's fallen on some hard times, you know. He was making some great shit, and they shut him down. It was a real blow to all of us.”

  Elwood's eyes were darting around like his head was a pinball machine. “Are they gonna do the films soon?” he asked. “I just came for the films.”

  Mooner sipped his drink. “Elwood was making a good living, saving up to go to college, when he lost his business license. Damn shame. Damn shame.”

  Elwood gave a small smile. “I didn't actually have a business license,” he said.

  “You're lucky you know Steph, here,” Mooner said. “I don't know what Dougie and me'd do without Steph. Lotta bounty hunters would just drag your bony ass back to jail, but Steph here—”

  Elwood looked like someone just hit him with a cattle prod. “Bounty hunter!”

  “The best there is,” Mooner said.

  I leaned forward so I could keep my voice low, and still have Elwood hear me. “Maybe it would be best if we went outside where we could talk.”

  Elwood backed away. “No! I'm not going! Leave me alone.”

  I moved to cuff him, but he slapped my hand away.

  Lula reached out with her stun gun, Elwood ducked behind the Mooner, and the Mooner went down like a house of cards.

  “Oops,” Lula said, “think I got the wrong little Trekkie.”

  “You killed him!” Elwood shrieked.

  “Time out,” Lula said. “Don't you go yellin' in my ear like that.”

  I caught one of his hands and slapped the bracelet on him.

  “You killed him. You shot him,” Elwood said.

  Lula was hands on hips. “Did you hear a gunshot? I don't think so. I don't even have a gun, because Ms. Antiviolence here made me leave my gun in the car. Good thing, too, or I might shoot you just because you're such an annoying little cockroach.”

  I was still trying to get the other hand in a cuff, and people were pressing in on us. “What's going on?” they wanted to know. “What are you doing to Captain Kirk?”

  “We're haulin' his worthless white ass off to the clink,” Lula said. “Step back.”

  In my peripheral vision I caught something fly by and hit Lula on the side of her head.

  “Hey!” Lula said. “What's going on?” She put her hand to her head. “This here's one of them smelly cheese ball hors d'oeuvres. Who's throwing cheese balls?”

  “Free Captain Kirk,” someone yelled.

  “The hell we will,” Lula said.

  Whap! Lula took it in the forehead with a crab puff.

  “Now just a minute,” she said.

  Whap. Whap. Whap. Egg rolls.

  The entire room chanted in unison, “Free Captain Kirk. Free Captain Kirk.”

  “I'm getting out of here,” Lula said. “These people are nuts. They been beamed up one time too many.”

  I yanked Elwood forward, toward the door, getting nailed with a splotch of hot sauce for the egg rolls, plus a couple cheese balls.

  “Get them!” someone yelled. “They're kidnapping Captain Kirk.”

  Lula and I ducked our heads and fought our way through a barrage of hijacked hors d'oeuvres and ugly threats. We reached the front door and bolted outside, hitting the pavement at a run, half dragging Elwood behind us. We threw him into the backseat, and I put the gas pedal to the floor. Any other car would have rocketed away, but the Buick purposefully eased out of its berth and muscled its way down the street.

  “You know, when you think about it, those Trekkies were a bunch of pussies,” Lula said. “If this had happened in my neighborhood, those cheese balls would have had bullets in them.”

  Elwood was sullen in the backseat, not saying anything. He'd caught a couple cheese balls and egg rolls by accident, and his Kirk suit wasn't up to Federation standard anymore.

  I dropped Lula off and continued on to the police station. Jimmy Neeley was at the desk. “Jesus,” he said, “what's that smell?”

  “Cheese balls,” I told him. “And egg roll.”

  “You look like you've been in a food fight.”

  “It was the Romulan who started it,” I said. “Damn Romulans.”

  “Yeah,” Neeley said, “you can't trust them Romulans.”

  I got my body receipt and retrieved my cuffs from Captain Kirk, then I left the police station and walked out into the night air. The police lot was artificially bright, lit
by overhead halogens. Beyond the halogens the sky was dark and starless. A light rain had started to fall. It would have been a cozy night if I was over at Morelli's with him and Bob. As it was, I was alone in the rain, smelling like a big crab puff, feeling a little worried that someone had terminated Cynthia Lotte and I might be next. The only good thing about the Lotte murder was that it had temporarily taken my mind off Arturo Stolle.