Plum Lovin'

  Diesel followed me out and walked me to my car.

  “What's happening with Annie?” I asked him.

  “Can't find her. Can't find Bernie. And now I can't find Lou Delvina. He has a house in Cranberry, but the only one in the house is his wife. There's a two-car garage with just one car in it. I have someone checking on other properties. He's not at his social club. He's not at his place of business.”

  “It's only nine o'clock. He could be lots of places.”

  “True. I have Flash watching his house.”

  My phone buzzed.

  “Thank the Lord I got you,” Lula said. “You're not gonna believe this one, and don't hang up because this is my one phone call.”

  Stephanie Plum 12.5 - Plum Lovin

  Chapter 11

  “Where are you?” I asked Lula.

  “I'm in jail. Where the heck do you think I am with one phone call? Anyways, I need someone to bond me out of here.”

  “I'll have to get Connie. Vinnie left for his Valentine's cruise with Lucille.” I looked at my watch. “It's nine o'clock Sunday night. Connie's going to have to get a judge out of his jammies to set bond. What are the charges?”

  “Destruction of personal property and tying a idiot's dick in a knot. And Tank's here, too.”

  Tank was second in command at Ranger's security company. He was Ranger's best friend, and he watched Ranger's back. He was a big guy who didn't talk much but carried a real big stick. From time to time Lula managed to snag him and have her way, and the next morning Tank would look like the living dead. To my knowledge this was the first time she'd gotten him arrested.

  “Tank and me were at this bar,” Lula said. "And some drunk-ass moron started on Tank. How Tank had no neck.

  And how Tank looked like Shrek, except Tank wasn't green. And I was getting real annoyed because okay, all that's true, but I didn't like this guy's attitude, you see what I'm saying? And then he started calling me Shrek's fat 'ho… and that's when I hit him. And things sort of went in the toilet after that."

  Diesel was smiling when I disconnected. “Ranger's gonna be pissed. He works hard to keep a clean, low profile.”

  “You know Ranger?”

  “From a distance.”

  I called Connie and told her about Lula and Tank.

  “Can you get them out?” I asked Connie.

  “Probably. I'll have to make some phone calls. I'll get back to you.”

  Diesel and I got into my Escape. I turned the heat on high, and Diesel cracked his window.

  “How do you know Ranger?” I asked him.

  Diesel shrugged. “I hear things. I assume Connie is buying a judge?”

  “This is a small community. We try to be civilized to each other. Connie will call in a favor.”

  Diesel was looking relaxed next to me, but I knew his priority was to find Annie, and it had to be on his mind.

  “I know you're worried about Annie,” I said. “Am I keeping you from whatever it is that you do?”

  “I have wheels turning. I'll need to move when I get a call. Until then, I'm all yours.”

  Connie called back. “I've got the paperwork in motion. I'm going to pick it up now, and I'll meet you at the booking desk in a half hour. I'm assuming Lula and Tank are being held at the station.”

  “Yep. Ten-four.” I turned to Diesel. “This is going to take some time. Would you mind picking Bob up at my parents' house and bringing him home for me?”

  “No problem. Call me if you run into trouble.”

  The Trenton police are housed in a redbrick bunker in a part of town that knows a lot about crime firsthand, mandating that police cars be locked in a lot surrounded by razor wire. Unfortunately, Connie and I didn't qualify for the razor-wire lot and were forced to park on the street, which was more or less a supermarket for chop-shop scouts. Connie drove over in a crapola Beetle she kept for just such an occasion. I got two fake antennae and a big fake diamond-encrusted cross out of my console. I hung the cross on my mirror, and I stuck the antennae to the roof rack. If you didn't look too close you'd think I was a dealer and would most likely kill you if I caught you messing with my car.

  It was after normal business hours, so we had to get ourselves buzzed in. Connie was already processing the release when I arrived. There wasn't a lot going on. Too late for rush-hour road rage and too early for drunken domestic violence. A lone sad-sack gangbanger sat chained to a chair that was bolted to the floor. The amount of snot on his shirt suggested he'd been pepper-sprayed.

  My buddy Eddie Gazarra was on duty behind the desk. “Sorry about Lula and Tank,” he said. “I wasn't here when they came in, or I would have called you right away. Some numbskull rookie dragged their asses in here, and there wasn't anything we could do once they were booked.”

  “It's okay,” I said. “We'll get them bonded out.”

  Gazarra went back to the holding cell and got Lula and Tank.

  “There's no justice to this world,” Lula said. “I get taken to jail, and the meany that called me a fat 'ho isn't even here.”

  “He's at the hospital getting his nuts extracted from his nose,” Gazarra said. “He'll get charged as soon as he can walk without spitting up blood.”

  “How about me?” Lula said. “I got a scratch on my arm, and I'm gonna get a bruise, too. And this here's a new sweater that someone grabbed hold of and tore a hole in.”

  Tank wasn't saying anything. He took his belt and shoelaces and pocketed the plastic bag with his incidentals… wallet, keys, loose change.

  “More bad news,” Gazarra said. “They towed and impounded a red Firebird that was parked illegally in a handicap space in front of the bar.”

  “That's my baby!” Lula said. “And it wasn't parked illegal. It had two inches sticking over the line. There was only two inches in the dumbass handicap spot.”

  Gazarra passed me a piece of paper. “Here's the address for the impound lot and the citation for the car. My advice is to pick it up tomorrow, because your girlfriend here is probably blowing over the alcohol limit, and with the kind of luck she's having, she'll be brought back here for DUI.”

  We all trudged out of the station, happy to find both cars still at the curb, unmolested. Connie zipped away, hoping to catch her television show, and I loaded Tank and Lula into my Escape.

  “How about you?” I said to Tank. “Did you drive to the bar?”

  Tank just looked at me.

  I couldn't hold the smile back. “You drove there in a Rangeman vehicle, didn't you?”

  Tank nodded. “Ranger's gonna kill me.”

  “Ranger doesn't have to know.”

  “Ranger knows everything,” Tank said. His eyes held mine. “Everything.”

  Oh boy.

  “What bar did you two trash?”

  “Sly Dog,” Tank said. “The car's in the lot alongside the bar.”

  Sly Dog was a watering hole for people coming to and going from events at the Sovereign Bank Arena. The complexion of the bar changed according to the event, and I wasn't sure what was going on tonight. Could have been a rock concert or a hockey game or monster trucks. It sat just outside the Burg, and was maybe a half mile from Lula's apartment.

  I took Perry Street to Broad Street and sailed through the center of the city, coming up behind the arena and the bar. I pulled into the lot and parked behind the black Rangeman SUV.

  Lula was in the seat beside me, and Tank was in the back. I slid a look at Lula. “Is there a plan?”

  “Hey, Shrek,” Lula yelled back to Tank. “You got a plan?”

  “Guess I should take you home,” Tank said.

  “Yeah,” Lula said. “That would be the polite thing to do. Might have to stop at the drugstore on the way. Wouldn't want to run out of… you know, anything.”

  I checked Tank out in the rearview mirror, and our eyes met, and he smiled.

  It was eleven o'clock by the time I got home. Lights were off in my apartment with the exception of a nightlight burning in the b
athroom, throwing light into the bedroom. Diesel and Bob were asleep in bed, side by side. Diesel was bare skin for as far as I could see with an arm thrown over Bob.

  I slipped into the bathroom and changed into a T-shirt and boxers. I tiptoed to the other side of the bed and crept in next to Bob.

  “Did everything work out okay?” Diesel asked, his voice soft in the dark room.

  “Yeah. We bonded them out, and then they went home together. This is probably a strange thing to say, but it was… nice. I think they really like each other.”

  “They're lucky.”

  “Is there someone like that for you? Someone you really like?”

  “Right now I really like you. And I'd like you even better if you'd swap places with Bob.”

  “No way.”

  “Had to try,” Diesel said.

  At one o'clock, Diesel's cell phone rang. By the time I was awake and oriented, Diesel was in the middle of a conversation with the caller.

  “Don't lose him,” Diesel said. “Double-team if you have to and call me if he moves.”

  I was half sitting, propped on one elbow. “What was that?” I asked when Diesel put his phone back on the night table.

  “Lou Delvina just rolled in. Parked in the driveway and scratched himself all the way from the car to his house. Flash said he got a good look at him through the kitchen window, and Delvina is covered with hives.”

  “Bernie!”

  “Yeah, looks like it. Don't know how they're connected, but it can't be friendly if Delvina is scratching.”

  Bob had moved off the bed sometime during the night, and there was a big empty space between Diesel and me.

  Diesel patted the space. “You could move over here,” he said.

  “I don't think so.”

  “It's warm and comfy.”

  “I'm warm enough.”

  “I could make you warmer.”

  “Jeez,” I said. “You never give up.”

  “It's one of my better qualities.”

  It was bright sunshine when I opened an eye to Diesel. He was standing at bedside, showered and shaved and wearing a clean shirt.

  “Where'd the clean shirt come from?” I asked.

  “Flash brought me some clothes this morning.”

  “Where'd Flash get the clothes?”

  “I don't know. Didn't ask.”

  “And you shaved. What's the occasion?”

  “It's Valentine's Day. I wanted to be ready in case you got all romantic on me.”

  Valentine's Day. How could I forget! I dragged myself out of bed and looked at the clock. Nine. I did a sigh.

  “Have a tough night?” Diesel asked.

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “I could have made it a good night.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I said I don't want to talk about it. I'm feeling cranky. Give me some room. And stop smiling at me with those damn dimples.”

  He handed me a mug of hot coffee. “I'm just trying to get your blood circulating. We have a man in motion. Lou Delvina left his house ten minutes ago. Flash is a beat behind him. I'm heading out. Do you want to be in on this?”

  “No. Yes.”

  Diesel was hands on hips, looking down at me.

  “Yes,” I said. “Give me a minute.”

  “Forty seconds would be better.”

  I picked some clothes off the floor and ran into the bathroom with them. I was dressed and out in record time with a hairbrush in my hand. I grabbed a ball cap off the dresser and rammed my feet into boots. Diesel stuffed me into my jacket and handed me a new mug of coffee, and we were out of the apartment, down the hall to the elevator.

  “Bob!” I said. “What about Bob?”

  “I walked him and fed him. He'll be fine. He's sleeping in a patch of sun in the dining room.”

  We took the 'vette with Diesel driving. He peeled out of the lot and headed west on Hamilton Avenue to Route 1. He took the Route 1 bridge into Pennsylvania, and I looked across to the Warren Street bridge, trenton makes — the WORLD TAKES was the message on the bridge. I hadn't a clue what it meant.

  “How do you know where you're going?” I asked him.

  “I can feel Flash in front of me. There are a couple people I connect to, and Flash is one of them. I can't always connect, but it's strong today. Probably because he's excited to be on the chase.”

  “Can you connect to me?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “So you didn't bug my car?”

  “No, I didn't bug your car. I dropped the bug into your purse. GPS is more reliable than this hocus-pocus crap. Unless it's raining. I have real problems in the rain. Nothing works in the rain.”

  We were off Route 1 and heading north toward Yardley Traffic was moderate. Diesel drove into Yardley and pulled to the side of the road.

  “What's up?” I asked him.

  “Lost Flash. It feels like he's behind me.”

  Diesel punched a number into his cell phone. “Lost you,” he said. He turned in his seat and looked out the back window. “Yeah,” he said, “I see the sign. Get me a couple of those glazed sticks and coffee.” Diesel looked over at me. “Everyone stopped to get doughnuts. Do you want anything?”

  “Double your order.”

  “Make that four glazed sticks and two coffees,” Diesel told Flash.

  Five minutes later, Diesel pulled back into traffic. “We have a visual,” he said. “That's Flash in the blue Honda Civic in front of us. Two cars ahead of him is a black Lincoln with Jersey plates. I imagine that's our man, Delvina.”

  We followed Flash and Delvina for an additional ten minutes, taking a road that hugged the Delaware River. There were houses on either side of the road. Large older houses on partially wooded lots mixed with small summer cottages. We saw the black Lincoln turn into a riverside driveway and disappear behind a six-foot-high privacy hedge. Flash slowed and parked on the shoulder one house down. We parked behind him and got out of the Vette. Flash met us halfway with the coffee and doughnuts.

  “I don't think you've met,” Diesel said. “Flash, Stephanie. Stephanie, Flash.”

  Flash was maybe five foot ten with spiked red hair and a bunch of diamond studs in his ears. He was slim, and you might place him in high school until you looked closely and saw the fine lines around his eyes. He was wearing jeans and sneakers and a ski jacket with a bunch of lift tickets hooked onto the zipper tag. I suspected he was a boarder.

  I took a doughnut and coffee and thought this would be really nice if it was a social occasion. We stood there for a while, drinking coffee and eating doughnuts, waiting to see if the Lincoln was just dropping off or picking up. Fifteen minutes went by.