Four to Score (Stephanie Plum 4)

Lula and I sent each other a look that said, Uh oh.

Sally paused with lip gloss in hand. “You didn't think you were going to leave me here, did you?”

“Well, yeah,” I said.

“This is bounty hunter shit,” Lula said. “And you don't know any bounty hunter shit.”

“I know other kinds of shit. And beside, I don't think you know a big fucking bunch of bounty hunter shit, either.”

I was staring at the wall, and I was thinking it might feel good to run full tilt and bash my head against it. “Stop! We'll all go. We'll all pretend to be bounty hunters.”

Sally turned to the hall mirror and smeared lip gloss on his lips. “Sugar gave me this cool cherry-?tasting shit to use on my lips. He says I've got to keep my lips from getting chapped so my lipstick goes on nice and smooth. I'm telling you, this woman stuff is complicated.”

He was wearing leather sandals, cut-?offs that were so short he had cheek showing, a sleeveless T-?shirt and a two-?day beard.

“Not sure you totally got the hang of this woman stuff,” Lula said. “Think maybe you'd do better shaving your ass than worrying about lip shit.”

* * * * *

IT WAS a little after one when we got to the park.

“Those shoes make all the difference,” Lula said, staring down at my new shoes. “Didn't I tell you those shoes were the shit?”

“Slut shoes,” Sally said. “Retro fucking slut.”

Great. Just what I needed, another pair of retro slut shoes—and an extra $74 on my Macy's charge card.

We were sitting in the parking lot, and directly in front of us was a large man-?made lake. A jogging path circled the lake, sometimes snaking through patches of trees. A snack bar and rest rooms were in a cinder-?block building to our right. To the left was an open field with swing sets and wooden structures for climbing. Benches had been placed at the water's edge but were empty at this time of day. The park saw more use in early evening when the temperature dropped. Seniors came to watch the sunset and families came to feed the ducks and play children's games.

“Kuntz will be sitting on the bench by the flagpole,” I said. “Instructions were that he should be there at three.”

“I bet she pops him,” Sally said. “Why else would you set someone up like that?”

I didn't think there was much chance that Maxine would pop him. The bench was too exposed. And there were no good escape routes. I didn't suppose Maxine was a rocket scientist, but I didn't think she was entirely stupid, either. It looked to me like Maxine was playing with Eddie Kuntz. And it looked to me like she was the only one who thought the game was funny.

I passed the photo of Maxine around. “This is what she looks like,” I said. “If you see her, grab her and bring her to me. I'll be covering the area between the snack bar and the car. Lula, you take the playground. Sally, I want you to sit on the bench by the boat ramp. Keep your eye out for snipers.” I did a mental eye roll on this one. “And watch that no one rushes Kuntz after he sits down.”

Not only had Sally and Lula talked me into buying platform sandals with strappy tie things halfway up my calf, they'd also managed to get me to trade my shorts for a black stretch miniskirt. It was an excellent disguise except for the fact that I couldn't run, sit or bend.

At two o'clock a couple of women arrived and took off jogging. Not Maxine. I walked down to the snack bar and bought a bag of popcorn to feed to the ducks. Two olde

r men did the same. A few more joggers showed up. Men, this time. I fed the ducks and waited. Still no sign of Maxine. Lula was sitting on a swing, filing her nails. Sally had stretched out on the ground behind his bench and appeared to be sleeping. Do I have a team, or what?

For as long as I'd been there, no one had approached the bench by the pole. I'd inspected it from top to bottom when I'd first arrived and found nothing unusual. One of the joggers had returned from his run and sat two benches down, unlacing his shoes and drinking from a water bottle.

Kuntz arrived at 2:55 and went straight to the bench.

Lula looked up from her filing, but Sally didn't move a muscle. Kuntz stood at the bench for a moment. He paced away from it. Nervous. Didn't want to sit down. He looked around, spotted me at the snack bar and silently mouthed something that looked like “Holy shit.”

I had a short panic attack, fearing he'd come over to me, but then he turned and slouched onto the bench.

A black Jeep Cherokee rolled into the lot and parked next to Kuntz's Blazer. I didn't need a crystal ball to figure this one out. Joyce had followed Kuntz. Not much I could do about that now. I watched the car for a while but there was no action. Joyce was sitting tight.

Ten minutes ticked by. Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Nothing was happening. The park population had increased, but no one was approaching Kuntz, and I didn't see Maxine. Two guys carrying a cooler chest walked toward the water. They stopped and spoke to the jogger who was still sitting on the bench near Kuntz. I saw the jogger shake his head no. The two guys exchanged glances. There was a brief discussion between them. Then one of the guys opened the chest, took out a pie and smushed it into the jogger's face.

The jogger jumped to his feet. “Jesus Christ!” he shrieked. “What are you nuts?”

Lula was off the swing and moving in. Joyce ran down from the parking lot. Kuntz edged off his bench. Even Sally was on his feet.