Janet Evanovich - Explosive Eighteen

“This is sort of depressing,” I said to Connie.

“This is nothing,” Connie said. “Wait until it rains. You’ll want to eat a bullet.”

I saw Vinnie’s Caddy angle in behind my truck. Vinnie literally sprang out and skipped into the office.

“I don’t know what he’s on, but I want some,” Lula said.

Vinnie stopped in the middle of the room, stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and rocked back on his heels. He was grinning and snorting with happiness. “I did it,” he said. “I fixed DeAngelo good. You don’t mess with Vincent Plum. No way. You pay the price.” And Vinnie did one of those spike-the-ball things you see football players do when they make a touchdown. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “ Yeah !”

“What did you do?” Lula asked.

“I filled his Mercedes with horse shit,” Vinnie said. “I know this guy who has horses, and I got him to take his dung pile and dump it into DeAngelo’s Mercedes last night. Filled that Mercedes from the floor to the roof. Had to break a window to get it all in. DeAngelo blew up my bus, so I filled his car with shit. Genius, right?”

“DeAngelo didn’t blow up the bus,” Connie said. “I just got the report from the fire marshal. The coffeemaker shorted out and started the fire.”

Some of the color left Vinnie’s face. “Say what?”

“Oh man,” Lula said. “DeAngelo is gonna be pissed. Least he won’t know who did it.”

“I left a note,” Vinnie said.

Lula gave a hoot of laughter and fell off her chair.

“But we all thought he did it,” Vinnie said.

“This could be bad,” Connie said. “DeAngelo is connected. And I don’t think he has a sense of humor.”

I caught a flash of black on the street and saw an Escalade double-park.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “I think this is DeAngelo.”

Vinnie dove for cover under Connie’s desk.

The front door banged open, and DeAngelo stormed in, red-faced and crazy-eyed.

“Where is he? I know he’s here,” DeAngelo said. “Perverted, slimy little weasel.”

Lula stood. “Hey, look who’s here. It’s Spanky.”

DeAngelo looked over at Lula. “Your asshole boss filled my car with horse shit.”

Lula brushed herself off and adjusted her girls. “That car was all wrong for you anyways,” Lula said. “You should be driving something hot, like a Ferrari or one of them Lamborghinis. Or maybe some big ol’ muscle car. You just don’t belong in that plain-ass Mercedes. He did you a favor. You’d get a lot more complimentary BJs if you was driving a Ferrari.”

“You’re right,” DeAngelo said. “Tell your boss if he delivers on a Ferrari, I won’t kill him.”

DeAngelo turned on his heel, left the office, and was whisked away in the Escalade.

“That went pretty good,” Lula said.

Vinnie crawled out from under the desk. “Where am I going to get a Ferrari? Do you have any idea what a Ferrari costs? It costs more than my house.”

“That was fun,” Lula said. “What are we gonna do next? I’m in a mood to wham somebody.”

“We need to pay another visit to Lahonka Goudge,” I said.

Lula hiked her bag onto her shoulder. “I’m up for that.”

We took my truck, and I drove into the projects and crept past Lahonka’s unit.

“We gonna be sneaky, or we just gonna bust in?” Lula asked.

“We’re going to ring her doorbell and politely but firmly reason with her.”

“Oh yeah,” Lula said. “That always works. How about I just wait in the truck.”

“Fine,” I said. “Wait in the truck. This won’t take long, because I have a positive attitude this morning, and I’m going to get the job done. I’m changing my juju.”

“Good for you,” Lula said. “Only you’d change your juju faster if you sneak up on her, put a pillowcase over her head, and hit her with a big stick. WHAM !”

I parked, and we both got out of the truck.

“I thought you were staying behind,” I said.

“I don’t want to miss the juju-changing moment,” Lula said.

“Scoff all you want, but you’ll see. I’m turning this around.”

“I’m not scoffin’,” Lula said. “Do I look like I’m scoffin’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, okay, maybe I’m scoffin’ a little.”

We threaded our way through the kids’ toys littering the sidewalk, and I rang Lahonka’s doorbell.

“Go away!” Lahonka yelled through the door.

“I want to talk.”

“I’m busy. Come back next year.”

“How about this,” Lula said. “How about you open this door, or I’ll shoot it full of holes.”

“You can’t do that,” Lahonka said. “This here’s public housing. That’s a taxpayer door. Us taxpayers put in good money for that door.”

“You pay taxes?” Lula asked.

“Not me personally,” she said. “I don’t give money. I just get money. I’m on the good side of that coin.”

“Stand back,” Lula said. “I’m shooting.”

“No! No shooting.” Lahonka opened the door. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to get a new door in public housing? And all kinds of vermin could climb in through those holes. Last time someone shot a hole in my door, I got a vampire bat in here.”

Lula looked through the open door. “You do pretty good for not paying taxes. You got a big flat-screen television and nice furniture. And is that your Mercedes at the curb?”

“I’m a entrepreneur,” Lahonka said. “I’m the American dream.”

“More like the American nightmare,” Lula said.

“Back to business,” I said to Lahonka. “We need to take you downtown to get rebonded. You missed your court date.”

“I know I missed my court date. You already told me that. I’m electing not to participate in the judicial system.”

“You don’t want your kids growing up thinking you’re a scofflaw, do you?” Lula said.

“I don’t know what the heck scofflaw means. Is that Russian?” Lahonka pulled some credit cards out of her pocket. “I can see you two ladies are no dummies. So I’ll make a deal with you. You can each have your pick of all these credit cards if you forget this whole thing.”

“Are you tryin’ to bribe us?” Lula asked. “Because we don’t take no bribes. We got honor. We got integrity coming out our ass.” She looked down at the cards. “Holy smoke. Is that a platinum American Express card? And a Tiffany card? Where’d you get a Tiffany card?”

“Is that the one you want?” Lahonka asked. “You want the Tiffany? That’s a real good choice.”

“I guess I could use a Tiffany card,” Lula said. “Don’t see no harm in taking a Tiffany card. It’s not like I’d have to use it, but it would class up my wallet.”

“She doesn’t want the Tiffany card,” I said to Lahonka. “You’re going to have to come downtown with us.”

She stepped back, slammed the door shut, and locked it. “Bite me!” she yelled through the door.

“Shoot the door,” I said to Lula.

“What about the politely reasoning shit?” Lula asked.

“Just shoot the damn door.”

“You can’t shoot it,” Lahonka yelled. “I’m standing right here behind it, and if you shoot the door, you’ll shoot me. And I’m a unarmed woman.”

“No problem,” Lula said, hauling her Glock out of her purse. “I’ll shoot low.” And Lula squeezed one off.

“ YOW !” Lahonka shrieked. “You shot me. You sonovabitch, you shot me in my foot. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna bleed to death. I don’t got no insurance, either. And what about my kids? Who’s gonna take care of my kids when I’m dead? I’m willin’ them to you. You deserve them, you sonovabitch. Let’s see you buy new sneakers every time their goddamn feet grow.”