Janet Evanovich - Plum Spooky

“You don‘t know that for sure.”

“True. I was putting myself in Susan‘s place.” He draped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him. “Here‘s my deal. If you snoop around Scanlon‘s apartment with me, I‘ll come back and look for Carl in the morning.”

“Deal.”

Connie had listed Scanlon‘s address as 2206 Niley Circle in Hamilton Township. I was familiar with Niley Circle. It was part of a large town house condo complex off Klockner Boulevard. I found the complex and parked in the lot. Diesel and I got out and studied the cluster of narrow town houses in front of us. Easy to find Scanlon‘s, since the door was sealed with yellow crime-scene tape.

Diesel ripped the tape off and opened the door.

“How did you do that?” I asked him. “How did you just turn the knob and open the door?”

“I don‘t know. It‘s a gift. I can flush a toilet without touching the little lever, too.”

“Really?”

Diesel grinned down at me. “You are so gullible.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You‘re scum.”

“It‘s okay,” Diesel said, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “It‘s cute.”

We were standing in a small foyer in the dark. This was a two-story town house, so presumably, there were stairs somewhere, plus furniture and a kitchen and all the things one ordinarily finds in a home. Unfortunately, I couldn‘t see any of them because it was pitch black. I felt Diesel leave my side, and I could hear him moving around the room.

“Can you see where you‘re going?” I asked him.

“Yep. Can‘t you?”

I blew out a sigh. “No.”

“Maybe you need to eat more carrots or blueberries or something.”

I took a couple steps forward and fell over a large unseen object. Diesel crossed the room, picked me up, and set me on my feet.

“Stand here, and don‘t move, and let me look around,” Diesel said.

I listened to him search the condo for what seemed like forever and a day. My eyes adjusted to the absence of light enough to see a few large shapes but never enough to make out detail. From time to time, I‘d see a penlight flick on, and moments later, it would flick off. Diesel could see in the dark, but not perfectly.

“This is boring,” I said to him.

“I‘m almost done.”

“Are you finding anything helpful?”

“He was planning on leaving the country. He had a suitcase packed, and his passport is out on his dresser. No travel itinerary. There are computer connections but no computer. And Wulf‘s been here. The place reeks of him.”

“The crime lab might have taken the computer.”

“It‘s possible. Or Wulf might have taken it.”

Diesel wrapped an arm around me and steered me to the foyer and out the front door. We made a halfhearted attempt to reattach the crime-scene tape, but it had lost most of its sticking power, so we left it on the ground and scuttled back to my car.

Halfway home my phone rang.

“Carl‘s here,” Grandma Mazur said. “I went to answer the doorbell, and there he was on the porch looking all dejected.”

“Where is he now?”

“He‘s here in the kitchen, eating cookies.”

“I‘ll be right there.”

Thirty minutes later, Diesel walked into my apartment, went straight to the couch, and flipped the ball game on. Carl scampered up beside him.

“Make yourself at home,” I said.

“I‘m going to pretend that wasn‘t sarcasm,” Diesel said.

“I don‘t suppose you have any chips?”

I brought him a bag of corn chips and a jar of salsa. I took a chip for Rex and dropped it into his cage, along with a baby carrot. I put my mother‘s leftover bag in the fridge, and I shuffled back to the couch.

“I‘m going to bed,” I said to Diesel. “Alone. And I expect to wake up alone.”

“You bet.”

I looked down at Carl. “And I expect you to behave yourself.”

Carl did a palms-up and shrugged.

I WOKE UP with a heavy arm across my chest. Diesel. I knew from past experiences that Diesel didn‘t fit on my couch and wasn‘t the sort of guy to tough it out on the floor, so I‘d taken the precaution of going to bed dressed in T-shirt and running shorts.

Diesel shifted next to me and half-opened his eyes. “Coffee,” he murmured.

I slithered out from under him, rolled out of bed, and stepped over the clothes he‘d left on the floor, including seafoam green boxers with palm trees and hula girls.

I used the bathroom and shuffled into the living room, where Carl was watching the news on tele vision. I got the coffee going and fed Rex. I wasn‘t sure what monkeys ate in the morning, so I gave Carl a box of Fruit Loops. Diesel ambled into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee.

“What have we got to eat?” he asked.

“Carl‘s eating the Fruit Loops, so that leaves leftovers from last night, peanut butter, hamster crunchies, and half a jar of salsa. Looks like you ate all the chips.”

“I shared with Carl.” He retrieved the leftover bag from the refrigerator and dumped it on the counter. Pot roast, gravy, green bean casserole. No mashed potatoes. He put it all on a plate and nuked it. “There‘s enough here for two.”

I sipped my coffee. “I‘ll pass.”

Diesel dug into the mountain of food and ate it all.

“It‘s not fair,” I said. “You eat tons of food. Why aren‘t you fat?”

“High rate of metabolism and clean living.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I thought I‘d hang out,” Diesel said.

“You and Carl?”

“Yeah.”

Carl gave Diesel a thumbs-up.

“Well, I‘m a working girl,” I told him. “I‘m going to take a shower and go catch a bad guy.”

“Knock yourself out,” Diesel said. “If you get a line on Munch, let me know.”

LULA WAS ON the couch in the bonds office when I walked in. She was wearing a pink sweat suit and sneakers, and she was holding a box of tissues. She didn‘t have any makeup on, and her hair was somewhere between rat‘s nest and exploded canary.

“What‘s up?” I asked.

“I‘m dying is what‘s up,” Lula said. “I got the flu back. I woke up this morning, and I couldn‘t stop sneezing. And my eyes are all puffy. And I feel like crap.”

“Maybe it‘s an allergy,” I said to her.

“I don‘t get allergies. I never been allergic to anything.”

“How‘d it go with Tank last night? Did you set a new date for the wedding?”

“I decided December first is a good time on account of it‘ll be easy to remember for anniversaries.”

“That was okay with Tank?”

“Yeah. He had his eyes closed when I told him, but I‘m pretty sure he was listening.”

Lula sneezed and blew her nose. “I swear, this just came on me. One minute, I‘m doing the nasty, and then next thing, I got the flu again.”

“Maybe you‘re allergic to Tank,” Connie said.

“I gotta get my numbers done,” Lula said. “I think there‘s something wrong with my juju. I‘m gonna call Miss Gloria. This just isn‘t right.”

I pulled Gordo Bollo‘s file out of my bag. “I‘m going to look in on Mr. Bollo. According to his file, he works for Greenblat Produce on Water Street.”

“I‘ll go with you,” Lula said. “I heard about Greenblat. That‘s a big fruit distributor. I could get an orange or a grapefruit for my bad juju while we‘re there. And I‘ll call Miss Gloria from the car.”

We piled into the Jeep and I took Hamilton, driving toward Broad Street. I had my top up but none of the windows zipped in. It was the end of September, and Trenton was enjoying a last-ditch warm spell.

“Hello,” Lula said into her phone. “This here‘s Lula, and I need to talk to Miss Gloria. It‘s an emergency. I‘m sick, and I think it‘s my juju, and I need my numbers done right away before I might die or something.” Lula disconnected and dropped her phone into her purse. “I hate being sick. No one should ever be sick. And if they do have to be sick, there should never be mucus involved.”