Four to Score (Stephanie Plum 4)

“What was that wrestling match about?”

“We were playing.” He glanced down at the jar. “Tell me about this.”

“Maxine Nowicki has been leaving clues for Eddie Kuntz. Sort of a revenge-?driven scavenger hunt. The clues are always in code. That's where Sally comes in. He's good at cracking codes.” I opened the jar, removed the paper and read the message. “ 'Our spot. Wednesday at three.' ”

“They have a spot,” Morelli said. “Makes me feel all romantic again. Maybe I should make a fast run to the drugstore.”

“Suppose you went to the drugstore. How many would you buy? Would you buy one? Would you buy a month's worth? Would you buy a whole case?”

“Oh boy,” Morelli said. “This is about curtains, isn't it?”

“Just want to get the rules straight.”

“How about we live one day at a time.”

“One day at a time is okay,” I said. I suppose.

“So if I go to the drugstore you'll let me back in?”

“No. I'm not in the mood.” In fact, I was suddenly feeling damn cranky. And for some unknown reason the image of Terry Gilman kept popping up in my mind.

Morelli ran a playful finger along my jawbone. “Bet I could change your mood.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him slitty eyed. “I don't think so.”

“Hmmm,” Morelli said, “maybe not.” He stretched, and then he sauntered into the kitchen and retrieved his pager from the refrigerator. “You're in a bad mood because I wouldn't commit to a case.”

“Am not! I absolutely would not want a case commitment!”

“You're cute when you lie.”

I pointed stiff-?armed to the door. “Out!”

* * * * *

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I could have called Eddie Kuntz and told him the newest message, but I wanted to talk to him face-?to-?face. Maxine Nowicki's apartment had been ransacked, and two people connected to her had been mutilated. I was thinking maybe someone wanted to find her for something other than love letters. And maybe that someone was Eddie Kuntz.

Kuntz was washing his car when I drove up. He had a boom box on the curb, and he was listening to shock jock radio. He stopped when he saw me and shut the radio off.

“You find her?”

I gave him the note with the translation. “I found another message.”

He read the message and made a disgusted sound. “ 'Our spot,' ” he said. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You didn't know you had a spot?”

“We had lots of spots. How am I supposed to know which spot she's talking about?”

“Think about it.”

Eddie Kuntz stared at me, and I thought I caught a hint of rubber burning.

“She's probably talking about the bench,” he said. “The first time we met was in the park, and she was sitting on a bench, looking at the water. She was always talking about that bench like it was some kind of shrine or something.”

“Go figure.”

Kuntz gave me a hands-?up. “Women.”