Janet Evanovich - Plum Spooky

“Actually I’m only hanging on until the battery runs down. I figure he’s got about two minutes left. And he doesn’t know how to recharge the thing.”

And at that moment there was silence in the room.

“Eep?” Carl said. He stood and looked over the back of the couch at us. He held the game player up for us to see. “Eeep.”

“It’s dead,” Diesel said.

Carl’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He shook the game player and examined it.

“Jeez,” I said to Diesel. “That’s tough.”

“Easy for you to say. You spent the night with a naked woman, and I spent it with this monkey.”

Carl threw the game at Diesel and tagged him in the back of the head.

“This is getting old,” Diesel said, picking the game up off the floor. “I’m not as nice as I look. If I hear one more eeep I’m gonna open a can of whoop-ass on the monkey.”

“You’re frustrated because you can’t get to Wulf.”

“That’s part of it.” His phone rang, and he answered and listened. “Be right there,” he said and disconnected.

“Flash?” I asked.

“Yeah. Wulf returned to the Sky Social Club. He’s inside. Let’s roll.”

“What about Carl?”

“What about him?”

“I don’t want to just leave him here in this mood.”

Diesel pulled a charger out of his pack and plugged it into the game. “I’m recharging this,” he said to Carl. “I’m going to plug it in, and when the red light turns green it’s good to go. Do you understand?”

Carl shrugged.

Diesel grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door. “We need to move.”

FLASH WAS PARKED halfway down the alley. We slid to a stop behind him, cut our lights, and we all got out and stood looking in the direction of the Sky building.

“He’s still in there,” Flash said. “His car is parked behind the building, and it hasn’t moved.”

“Do you have any idea who’s in there with him?” Diesel asked.

“I have my girlfriend watching the front, and from what we can tell, Doc Weiner is there with two lieutenants. Mostly, the club runs during the day and empties out at night.”

The back door to the club opened, and Wulf walked out. Too dark for me to see more than his outline. There was the sound of his car door opening and closing. The Ferrari engine turned over, and Wulf backed out and drove away from us. We all scrambled to get into our cars.

Diesel wheeled around Flash, and just as he approached the Sky building, there was an explosion that blew out the building windows and doors and rocked the Escalade. I looked behind us and saw Flash put his car into reverse and tear down the alley. Diesel did the same. Flaming debris blocked the narrow road directly behind the club.

It took me a couple minutes to catch my breath and get my heart to stop racing. “What was that?” I asked Diesel. My voice was an octave higher than normal, and my eyes felt like they’d been popped out of their sockets.

“My guess is Wulf burned a bridge,” Diesel said.

Diesel and Flash circled the block but couldn’t pick up the Ferrari. Diesel continued to drive south without success. The trail was cold.

“I’m hungry, and I want beer,” Diesel said. “Where do I go?”

“Pino’s will be open. It’s just off Broad.”

Ten minutes later, we parked on the street several houses down from Pino’s. It was a dark, starless, moonless night that had turned too cold for my sweatshirt. I power-walked the distance from the car to Pino’s entrance and pushed into the heat and noise of the crowded bar. The place was filled with cops and nurses gone off shift, and my phone rang minutes after Diesel and I took a table and ordered food.

“What’s up?” Morelli asked. “I just got four calls telling me you’re out with a guy who looks like he could kick my ass.”

“It’s Diesel.”

Silence on Morelli’s end. I figured he was counting his fingers and toes, trying to get a grip.

“Diesel,” he finally said. “My life isn’t bad enough, now I have to worry about Diesel.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“Where’s he sleeping?”

“Wherever he wants. Can we change the subject? How’s Anthony’s ass?”

“He’s in your bed, right? Maybe I should just shoot him and be done with it,” Morelli said.

“I think he might be hard to kill. Anyway, you’re supposed to trust me.”

“Hah!” Diesel said. And he chugged half a bottle of beer.

“I trust you,” Morelli said. “I just don’t trust him.”

“He’ll be gone soon. Hang in there.”

More silence. This wasn’t a good time for Morelli.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” I said. “He’s gay, but he’s only halfway out of the closet.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I’m not his type.”

“He doesn’t look gay,” Morelli said.

“How can someone look gay?”

“They’re usually neat.”

“Well, he’s a gay slob, what can I say? And on top of that, he can’t get it up. Some sort of war injury. Blew his nuts off.”

Diesel had eyebrows raised.

“I have to go,” Morelli said. “Anthony is moaning for pie. I have a Mrs. Smith’s in the oven.”

“You’re a good brother.”

“I’m an idiot.”

And he disconnected.

“That sucks,” Diesel said. “I could have managed gay, but I really hate not having nuts.”

“It’s a temporary thing. Next week, you’ll be in Spain or Malaysia, and you’ll have your nuts back.”

“True. Call Ranger and see if he knows anything about the Sky explosion. He monitors the police band.”

I punched Ranger’s number, and he immediately came on the line.

“Babe,” Ranger said.

“Sky Social Club had an issue to night.”

“That’s what I’m told.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“It’s never your fault,” Ranger said. “So far, no bodies found, but I don’t think they’ve been able to get into the building yet.”

“I was watching the club when it blew. My man Munch is hanging out with a creepy guy named Wulf. Wulf left the club and BLAM!”

“You want to stay far away from Wulf,” Ranger said.

“You know him?”

“I know about him.”

“That’s a relief. I thought maybe you were related.”

“Not nearly. Diesel and Wulf are Swiss.”

“Swiss!”

Diesel had been watching the tele vision behind the bar, but that brought his attention back to me.

“You know where I keep the key if you need a safe haven,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.

I looked at Diesel. “You’re Swiss?”

“Origin of birth.”

“You seem so American.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time here.”

I AWOKE ALONE in my bed. Diesel’s side was rumpled, but Diesel was missing. Daylight halfheartedly peeped from the edge of my curtains, and I could smell coffee brewing. I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen.

Diesel handed me a mug and filled it with coffee. “It lives,” he said.

“You’re up early. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s not that early. It’s almost eight o’clock, and we need to be on the road. My sources tell me there’s going to be a memorial ser vice for Eugene Scanlon today. It’s being held in a church in north Philly I’m hoping his long-lost sister will show. Or his killer.”

“I hate memorial ser vices.”

“Maybe they’ll have doughnuts,” Diesel said. “You have thirty-five minutes to get memorial-ready”

“What about the monkey?”

“He’s had breakfast, his game is charged, and the tele vision remote is within reach.”

THE CHURCH WAS two blocks from Roberta Scanlon’s house. It was gray stone, with the standard bell tower and carved oak door. It was moderate size, and all parking was on the street. We arrived ten minutes ahead of the ser vice, and there were only a handful of cars at the curb. I was wearing my black suit with the short pencil skirt, three-inch heels, and a white silk sweater. Diesel had selected for the occasion his jeans without a rip in the knee.