Janet Evanovich - Plum Spooky

I didn‘t want to hear any more about mucus, so I punched the radio on, found a rap station for Lula, and blasted it out. By the time I rolled to a stop in front of Greenblat Produce, Lula was on a rant over my radio.

“You can‘t play rap on this cheap-ass radio,” she said. “There‘s no bass. This is like Alvin and the Chipmunks do Jay-Z. On the other hand, your open-air car got my head cleared out. I can breathe. I don‘t even feel a sneeze coming on.”

Greenblat Produce was housed in a large cement-block ware house with a loading dock in the rear and a small windowless office in the front. There were four desks in the office, and they were occupied by women who looked like Connie clones.

“What?” one of them said to me.

“I‘m looking for Gordo Bollo.”

“Oh damn, what‘d he do now?”

“He forgot his court date. I represent his bail bondsman, and I need to get him rescheduled.”

“I guess it could be worse,” she said.

“Oh boy,” Lula said to me. “This guy‘s in deep doo-doo when he got worse visitors than us.”

“He‘s in the back,” the woman said. “Go through this door behind me. He‘s probably sorting tomatoes.”

Lula and I entered the ware house, and I showed her a photo of Gordo.

“He looks real familiar,” Lula said. “I know him from somewhere. Maybe I knew him in a professional manner from when I was a ‘ho. No wait, that‘s not it. Now, that‘s gonna drive me nuts. I hate when this happens. Okay, I got it. He looks like Curly from the Three Stooges. Same bowling ball head and everything. No wonder his wife divorced him. Who‘d want to be married to a man with a head like a bowling ball?”

“Have you been taking cold medicine?”

“Maybe I had a couple hits this morning for medicinal purposes,” Lula said.

“I think you should wait in the car.”

“What? I‘m not waiting in no car. I want to see the guy with the bowling ball head.”

“Fine, but don‘t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed. See what I‘m doing? I‘m zipping them and locking them. And look at this. I‘m throwing away the key.”

Lula sneezed and farted.

“Oops, excuse me,” Lula said. “I thought I was done sneezing. Good thing we‘re in this big ware house with all this rotting fruit.”

I took a giant step away from Lula and scanned the room. I walked down an aisle formed from crates of iceberg lettuce, turned the corner, and found Bollo off-loading a pallet of tomatoes.

“Gordo Bollo?” I asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“We want to know,” Lula said. “Who the heck do you think?”

I gave Bollo my card. “I represent your bail bondsman,” I told him. “You missed your court date, and you need to reschedule.”

“The whole thing is bogus,” he said. “My foot got stuck on the accelerator.”

“You run over that guy twice,” Lula said.

“Yeah, my foot got stuck twice. It was an accident.”

“It really doesn‘t matter,” I said to him. “You‘ll have a chance to explain all that if you‘ll just come with me to get a new date.”

“I can‘t go now. I‘m working.”

“These look like real nice tomatoes,” Lula said.

And then she sneezed and farted again.

“Cripes, lady,” Bollo said. “You just cut the cheese on the tomatoes.”

“I didn‘t do no such thing,” Lula said. “I was facing the other direction.” She turned and looked behind her. “I laid one on these grapefruits from Guatemala. And anyways, it‘s not my fault. I got bad juju going. I‘m waitin‘ on a call from Miss Gloria.”

“This won‘t take long,” I said to Bollo.

“I‘m not coming with you. Go away. Leave me alone.”

“I gotta get out of here,” Lula said. “There‘s something in here making my nose twitch.”

“Go out to the car. I‘ll be there in a minute.”

“You sure you don‘t need me?” Lula asked.

“I‘m sure!”

Bollo went back to sorting tomatoes.

“Listen up,” I said to him. “You are required by law to return to the court, and I‘m authorized to use force if necessary.”

“Oh yeah? Force this,” he said.

And he hit me square in the forehead with a tomato. I turned and SPLAT -I took another in the back of the head. By the time I reached the door, I‘d taken at least three more tomatoes.

“Uh-oh,” a Connie clone said when I staggered into the office. “Looks like you pissed Gordo off. That man could use some anger management.”

“I‘ll be back,” I told her. “How late does he work?”

“He‘ll be here until four.”

I left the office and settled myself behind the wheel of the Jeep.

“What the Sam Hill happened to you?” Lula wanted to know.

“Bollo needs anger management.”

“I‘d go shoot him or something for you, but I‘m waiting on Miss Gloria.”

I wheeled out of the lot, turned onto Broad, and Miss Gloria called Lula back.

“Yeah?” Lula said to Miss Gloria. “Un-hunh, un-hunh, un-hunh.”

“Well?” I asked her when she disconnected.

“It‘s my moons. Miss Gloria ran my numbers, and they didn‘t look so good, so then she did my chart, and it turns out my moons are all screwed up.”

“So?”

“I just gotta wait it out. She said I need to be extra careful during this time and not make any big decisions on account of they could be life changing and I could decide the wrong thing.”

“Because of your moons?”

“Yeah, and we‘re on the cusp of something right now, but cell reception wasn‘t good, so I didn‘t get it all.”

I parked curbside at the office and followed Lula through the front door.

“Omigod,” Connie said. “What happened? Is that blood?”

“Tomatoes.”

“Gordo Bollo had issues with takin‘ a ride with us,” Lula said.

“I need cuffs and pepper spray and a stun gun,” I told Connie.

“You haven‘t got any?”

“She lost them when someone stole her purse at the mall last week,” Lula said. “I was with her. One minute, we were in the food court, eating pizza, and next thing, she didn‘t have no purse. Lucky she just paid for the pizza, and she had her wallet in her pocket, or she wouldn‘t have no credit cards.”

“Take what ever you need,” Connie said.

I got myself outfitted, and walked outside into the midday sunshine. A black Porsche turbo slid to a stop behind my Jeep, and Ranger angled out from behind the wheel and stood hands on hips, looking me over.

“Babe,” Ranger said. And he almost smiled.

Ranger dresses in black. The rest of him comes in varying shades of brown. Silky dark brown hair, light brown skin, and brown eyes that are more often than not hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. He‘s two months older than I am and years ahead in life experience. He‘s a security expert and part own er of Rangeman, a protective ser vices company located in a stealth town house in center city.

“Tomatoes,” I said by way of explanation.

“Do you need help?”

“No. But thanks for asking.”

“Diesel is back,” Ranger said.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I woke up with a migraine this morning.” Ranger picked a chunk of tomato out of my hair. “Word on the street is that you‘re looking for Munch, and Munch is looking for pure barium. And he‘s willing to pay serious money. There are a couple vendors who deal in this sort of thing. Solomon Cuddles and Doc Weiner. If you watch one of these guys, you might run into Munch. You can find Cuddles at the mall somewhere between the food court and the Gap. Weiner operates out of the Sky Social Club on Stark. Don‘t go in there alone. In fact, don‘t go in there at all.”

“Why would Munch want barium?”