Janet Evanovich - Motor Mouth

“There’s no way around it,” Suzanne said. “We have to make a run for it. When we get to the house, we’ll be hidden again, and we can creep along and try to find a way in.”

We got halfway across the grass, and all the outdoor lights flashed on.

“We tripped the motion sensors,” Suzanne said. “Don’t anyone panic.”

“They gonna let the Dobermans out next,” Felicia said, running onto a patio. “I’m not waiting for that. I’m going in where it’s safe.”

She whacked a patio door with her gun butt, the glass shattered, she reached inside and opened the door, and the alarm system went off.

We all rushed into the house, Beans included. We fumbled our way through the house in the dark, guns drawn, going room by room. No reason to go slowly or quietly. The alarm was whining. The phone was ringing. No one was answering the phone. Undoubtedly the security company calling. Their next call would be to the police.

We crept into the kitchen, Beans gave an excited woof , and ran forward. Hard to hear much over the alarm, but there was the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor in front of us. Rosa flipped a switch, the kitchen came up like daylight, and we all gaped at Hooker. He was tied to a kitchen chair that Beans had tipped over. Beans was on top of him, giving him slurpeys, and Hooker was looking stunned.

I ran to Hooker and counted his fingers. Ten! Yahoo !

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Yeah, I just got the wind knocked out of me when Beans hit the chair.”

“What about Gobbles?”

“He’s in the house somewhere. I don’t know what kind of condition he’s in. He might be upstairs.”

“I’ll go look for him,” Rosa said.

“Where is everybody else?” I asked Hooker.

“Gone.”

“That’s impossible. There’s only one way in and one way out, and we were watching it.”

“They left by boat,” Hooker said. “Miranda and his two men. And Ray. And the dog shit. I guess Miranda didn’t think he could get much more out of you or me, so he took Ray. If the chip’s in the bag, everyone will be happy. If it isn’t, I imagine Miranda will hold Ray hostage until he duplicates the technology. And if he can’t duplicate the technology, I don’t think things will look good for Ray.”

Felicia was working on Hooker’s ropes with a steak knife.

“How’s it going?” Suzanne asked. “Is he almost cut loose? We need to get out of here before the police arrive. I don’t want a mug shot with my hair looking like this.”

Felicia made a last swipe with the knife, and Hooker wriggled free. He got to his feet and looked around. “Where’s Beans?”

“He was here a minute ago,” I said.

Hooker whistled, and Beans came into the kitchen dragging Rodriguez, who was obviously incredibly dead.

Felicia shook her finger at Beans. “You got to stop playing with the dead people.”

Hooker found a box of crackers in a cupboard. “Here you go, guy,” he said to Beans. “I’ll trade you a cracker for the dead man.”

I followed the drool smears down a hall to a powder room. The door was open, and I could see another body on the floor. I flipped the light on for a better look. It was Lucca. He was on his back, his black eye no longer seeming like much of a problem.

I know Rodriguez and Lucca weren’t such nice guys. And I know they killed a bunch of people. Still, I felt bad they were dead. Okay, maybe not Lucca. I was a little glad Lucca was dead.

I closed the door on Lucca and returned to the kitchen where Hooker and Felicia were trying to get Rodriguez to sit at the table.

“How’s this?” Felicia asked me. “You think this looks natural?”

“Yeah, if you don’t count that he’s been dead for two days, and you had to break both legs to get him to sit, plus his head is facing the wrong way. He looks like something out of the Exorcist movie.” And then I saw the guns on the table. “I’m guessing those guns belong to Rodriguez and Lucca?”

“Simon laid the guns on the table when they brought Rodriguez and Lucca in,” Hooker said. “And then everyone forgot about them. I’m hoping one of those guns was used to shoot Oscar.”

Rodriguez started to list to one side, and Felicia propped him up on his elbow. “We put this guy here in case Officer Dummy is the first on the scene and can’t figure it out.”

We all froze at the sound of gunfire.

“Upstairs,” Hooker said.

There was a loud crash, and then Rosa’s voice. “It’s okay,” she yelled down. “I got Gobbles, and he’s okay.”

I went to the foot of the stairs. “What was the gunfire about?”

“I had to shoot the lock off the bathroom door,” Rosa said. “I always wanted to do that.” Rosa had Gobbles by the back of the shirt, holding him up like he was a baby kitten. “He’s a little wobbly, but he don’t got any holes in him he’s not supposed to have. At least none I can see.”

“I went outside with the garbage,” Gobbles said, eyes glazed, semi-babbling. “It had the turkey carcass in it. It was a real good turkey, too. Nice and moist. Everybody said so. I made a real good Thanksgiving. Everybody left, and I was cleaning up, and next thing I was in the trunk of a car. And then they gave me some kind of shot, and everything was whirly, and I don’t know where I was, and then I was back in the trunk. And when I was in the trunk, I saw Jesus. And the Virgin Mary. And Ozzie Osbourne.”

“Must have been crowded in that trunk,” Rosa said.

Rosa and I got Gobbles down the stairs and into the kitchen. We walked him to the middle of the room, and he spotted Rodriguez sitting at the table and totally wigged out.

“You!” Gobbles yelled at Rodriguez. “I didn’t get any leftovers because of you. And leftovers are the best part. Everybody knows that. You don’t fuckin’ kidnap someone Thanksgiving night. I fuckin’ wait all fuckin’ year for those leftovers. I hate you. I hate you!” He grabbed the gun from Rosa, and he shot Rodriguez in the knee.

Nothing happened. Rodriguez didn’t jump, didn’t bleed, didn’t blink.

“You do know he’s dead, right?” Hooker asked Gobbles.

“Yeah. I knew that.”

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Gobbles said. “But I surely would like a turkey sandwich.”

I noticed a shoebox left on the table. Gucci. “Someone buys expensive shoes,” I said.

Rosa picked the box up and looked inside. “Uh-oh.”

Felicia, Hooker, Suzanne, and I looked over Rosa’s shoulder. There were two cylinders attached to a small electronic component with a clock counting down. Two minutes left on the clock.

“Bomb!” we all yelled.

Hooker grabbed the box, ran outside, and heaved it toward the water. It hit the dock, went into a skid, and exploded. We were all knocked back, and half the windows blew out.

We didn’t waste any time getting off the property. Too much trouble to alley-oop over the wall again. We ran to the water’s edge, carefully stepped into the waist-high water, scooted around the protruding stucco wall, and dragged our soaked selves onto the bank on the other side.

The white light from headlights and blue emergency strobes raced down the street and stopped in front of the gated house while we tiptoed across the backs of yards. We got to the Camry, squeezed six wet people and a big wet dog into the car, and Rosa drove off, down the street then across the causeway, toward South Beach.

I had so much leftover terror my teeth were chattering and I was shaking.

“D-d-do you think it will work?” I asked Hooker. “D-d-do you think they’ll connect Rodriguez and Lucca with the m-m-murders?”

Hooker had his arms locked around me. “There will be a lot of unanswered questions,” he said, “but I’m hoping we left the murder weapon in the kitchen. I don’t see where the police can dispute a murder weapon loaded with fingerprints.”