Janet Evanovich - Plum Spooky

“Was that Martin Munch?” Lula asked.

“I think so.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know where we’re going. I just know we can’t stay on the road.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where we’re going?”

“Look around. What do you see?”

“Nothing,” Lula said. “It’s black as a witch’s tit in here.”

“Exactly.”

“We could be walking in circles. We could be easy prey for the Jersey Dev il and the Tree People.”

Or worse.

“I don’t want to alarm you or nothing,” Lula said. “But I’m gonna have a freak-out. I’m feelin’ a freak-out coming on. I’m not a woods person. I need cement under my feet. I need a streetlight. I need a burger.”

“Don’t panic. This isn’t Alaska. This is Jersey. We’ll be fine. We have to just keep walking, and we’ll get somewhere.”

“Shush. Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“They’re talking again. I hear the Tree People talking. Feet, don’t fail me. I’m getting out of here.”

Lula took off in the dark and didn’t run more than ten steps when SPLASH.

“They got me,” she shrieked. “Help. I’m drowning. I’m a goner.”

Lula was floundering around at the edge of what looked like a cranberry bog. I squinted into the dark and reached out to her. “Grab my hand.”

“I got it,” Lula said. “Get me out.”

I planted my foot, the mud oozed over my shoe, and I went into the soup with Lula.

“I’m getting sucked away,” Lula said. “I’m gonna die. This is the end. The swamp monster got me.”

“You’re only in two feet of water,” I told her. “You’re not going to die. Not unless I choke you because you won’t shut up.”

I tried to stand, but the ground gave way, and I went down again. Hands grabbed me from behind and lifted me out of the muck. It was Ranger. He was up to his knees in swamp water.

“Babe,” Ranger said.

“How did you find me?”

He set me on solid ground and waded out of the water. “I heard Lula yelling. Half the state heard her.”

Two of Ranger’s men had slogged over to Lula and had her by the armpits, dragging her out.

Ranger took my hand and tugged me through the woods. “Talk to me.”

“Gail Scanlon called me and said Wulf had her locked away somewhere. She didn’t know where she was, and she was terrified. She asked me to help. I tried to get in touch with Diesel, but he wasn’t answering, so I called you, and I came looking for her.”

“Did you find her?”

“No. She wasn’t in her house.”

“What would Wulf want with Gail Scanlon?”

“I don’t know, but he killed her brother.”

We reached the road, and Ranger continued to lead me.

“Your Jeep is parked just around the curve in the road. I’m parked behind you,” Ranger said.

“I ran out of gas.”

“I noticed. Is anything else wrong with the Jeep?”

“Only everything.”

Ranger paused. “There’s a monkey sitting in the middle of the road.”

It was all dark shadow to me. “Are you sure it’s a monkey?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it wearing a hat?”

“Yeah.”

“Bummer.” I was really wishing it was Carl.

The men behind us were using flashlights. The beam swept across the monkey, and it ran off into the woods. We reached my Jeep and moved past it to the Rangeman SUV.

“I’ll send someone to get your car in the morning,” Ranger said, remoting the SUV doors unlocked.

Lula and I were dripping wet with mud and water plants stuck in our hair, caked onto our shoes. The temperature had dropped, and I was so cold my teeth were chattering.

Ranger wrapped me in his jacket and trundled me onto the Rangeman front seat. Lula and Ranger’s two men got in the back. Ranger climbed behind the wheel, blasted heat at me, and backed out.

We reached the Atlantic City Expressway, and four messages popped up on my phone. All from Diesel. All the same. Where are you? Call me.

I dialed his cell and told him about Gail Scanlon.

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“We’re on the Expressway. My Jeep ran out of gas in the woods, and Ranger rescued Lula and me.”

“Tell him I appreciate the help. And try to get him to pick up some dinner on the way home. A rotisserie chicken would be good.”

“That’s not going to fly.”

“Worth a shot,” Diesel said.

I UNLOCKED MY apartment door, stepped inside, and kicked my shoes off in the kitchen.

Diesel sauntered in and looked me over. “Am I allowed to smile?”

“As long as you don’t laugh out loud.”

“What happened?”

“It was dark under the pines, and Lula and I sort of fell into a swamp.”

“Where’s Carl?”

“He ran away after he turned all the other monkeys loose. And you were right about Gail’s house. It was the one you picked out from the aerial view of the Barrens. It was empty when I got there. I didn’t see any sign of struggle. Nothing to indicate where Wulf took Gail. Or why he took her.”

“Back up. Other monkeys?”

“About twenty of them in a habitat next to Gail’s house. They were wearing little helmets with antennae on the tops. Carl opened the door, and they all ran off into the woods.”

“Anything else?”

I told him about Martin Munch.

“Where were you?” I asked Diesel. “I tried to reach you when Gail first called me, but you weren’t picking up.”

“I had to solve a problem in Panama.”

“Do I want to know about the problem?”

“No.”

I carefully walked to the bathroom, trying not to dislodge any mud clods, and I took a shower. I blasted my hair with the dryer and put on some clean sweats. I went to the kitchen and looked for food.

“Have you eaten?” I asked Diesel.

“When?”

“Recently.”

“No.”

I considered my choices. Cereal, peanut butter, scrambled eggs, grilled cheese. Hands down, it was grilled cheese. I got everything going in the fry pan and Diesel stood pressed to my back, looking over my shoulder. “Is that for me?”

“Do you want it?”

“Badly” Diesel said.

“I’m talking about the cheese.”

“That, too.”

Diesel ate two grilled-cheese sandwiches, and I ate one. I was debating cleaning the fry pan or just throwing it away, and Morelli called.

“Just shoot me,” Morelli said. “Put me out of my misery. His wife doesn’t want him back. I don’t blame her. I don’t want him, either, but I’m stuck with him. I can’t get him out of my house. He can barely walk. I’m waiting on him hand and foot. The only thing he can do is work the channel changer. I’ve got a full-scale gang war going in the projects, and seventeen times a day I get a phone call from Anthony adding things to his gimme list. He wants lip balm. He wants bananas. He wants a TV Guide. He wants beer.”

“I’m really sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“There is. I hate to ask you to do this, but I’m desperate. Can I have the gimme phone calls transferred to you for just one day? I have meetings up my ass tomorrow. I can’t keep taking these phone calls.”

“Sure. Have him call me. Do you know anything about the explosion at the Sky Social Club? Did they find any bodies inside?”

“One. Tentative identification is Doc Weiner. His two stooges were out front and were blown across the street but didn’t get hurt.”

I hung up and told Diesel about Doc Weiner.

“Why would Wulf blow up the building?” I asked Diesel. “If he wanted to get rid of Weiner, why didn’t he just kill him like Scanlon?”

“Hard to say with Wulf. He sees himself as a sort of avenging angel, but then he has a playful side.”