Four to Score (Stephanie Plum 4)

They disappeared into their cool, dark house and the door clicked closed. No cake invitation.

Morelli and I went back to the truck.

“So?” I said.

“It would make sense that the note was personal and not from Maxine. It would explain the fact that it wasn't in code.”

“You really believe that?”

Morelli shrugged. “It's possible.”

I stared into the Glick front window. “They're watching us. I can see them standing a few feet back from the window.”

Morelli rolled the engine over. “You have plans?”

“I thought I might visit Mrs. Nowicki.”

“Isn't that a coincidence? I woke up this morning thinking it would be a good day to go to the shore.”

The temperature was in the eighties. The sky was the color of putty. And the humidity was so high I could feel the air lying on my face. It wasn't a good day to go anywhere . . . unless it was out of Jersey.

“You aren't going to play Buddy Holly all the way to Point Pleasant, are you?”

“What's wrong with Buddy Holly?”

I grimaced. He probably liked the Three Stooges, too.

* * * * *

IT STARTED RAINING when we hit Point Pleasant. A nice steady soaker that chased everyone off the beach. It was the sort of rain farmers liked. Except there weren't any farmers in Point Pleasant—only bummed-?out vacationers.

I directed Morelli to the Nowicki house, and we sat outside for a while, watching. There were no cars in the driveway. No lights on inside. No sign of activity.

“Looks a lot like Eddie Kuntz's house,” I said.

“Yeah,” Morelli said. “Let's go take a look.”

We ran for the shelter of the porch and rang the bell. Neither of us expected an answer. When we didn't get one, we snooped in the windows.

“We missed the party,” Morelli said.

The front room was a mess. Lamps knocked over, tables on end, chair cushions askew. Not from Joyce, either. This was a different mess.

I tried the door, but it was locked. We ran around back and crowded onto the small stoop. No luck with that door, either.

“Damn,” I said. “I bet there are clues inside. Maybe even bodies.”

“One way to find out.” Morelli smashed the door window with his gun butt.

I jumped back. “Shit! I don't believe you did that. Didn't you watch the O. J. trial? Cops can't just bust into places.”

Morelli had his arm through the hole in the glass. “It was an accident. And I'm not a cop today. It's my day off.”

“You should team up with Lula. You'd make a great pair.”

Stephanie Plum 4 - Four To Score

Stephanie Plum 4 - Four To Score