Four to Score (Stephanie Plum 4)

“No problem.”

He kissed me on the top of the head and left.

I looked at Rex. “This feels a little strange,” I said. “I'm not used to being a housewife.”

Rex sat on his haunches and stared at me. At first glance you might think he was contemplating what I'd just said. More likely he wanted a grape.

For lack of something better to do I called Eddie Kuntz. No answer. “Dead,” I said to Rex. I wanted to drive over and have another chat with Betty, but I had to wait for the glass to get fixed. I had a second cup of coffee. And then I had a second piece of lasagna. At nine o'clock the glazier arrived, and he was followed by yet another Italian lady bearing food. A chocolate cake this time. I ate half while I waited for the windows.

* * * * *

I DIDN'T HAVE TO KNOCK on the door to know Eddie Kuntz wasn't home. No car out front. No lights anywhere. Windows and doors closed up tight. The only thing missing was black crepe.

I knocked on Betty's door instead.

“What can I tell you?” Betty said. “He's not home. Like I told you before, last I saw him was Saturday.”

She didn't look worried or confused. What she looked was pissed. Like I was bothering her.

“Does he do this a lot? Do you think we should notify the police?”

“He's on a bender,” Leo said from his chair in front of the TV. “He picked up one of his trashy girlfriends, and they're shacked up somewhere. That's the end of it. He'll be home when he's home.”

“You're probably right,” I said. “Still, it might not hurt to do a little investigating. Maybe it would be a good idea if we checked out his apartment. You have a key?”

Leo was more adamant this time. “He's on a bender, I'm telling you. And you don't go snooping around in a man's home just because he goes on a bender. Anyway, why are you so interested in finding Eddie? I thought you were looking for Maxine Nowicki.”

“Eddie's disappearance might be related.”

“For the last time, I'm telling you it's not a disappearance.”

Sounded like denial to me, but what do I know? I went back to the Buick and drove to Mrs. Nowicki's house. It looked even worse than it had the first time I saw it. No one was cutting the grass, and a dog had done number two right in the middle of the sidewalk. Just for the hell of it I walked around the house and looked in the windows. No sign of life.

I got back in the car and headed for Margie's house. I took New York to Olden, turned onto Olden and spotted the beat-?up Fairlane Morelli uses for surveillance. He was parked across the street from the 7-Eleven where Helen Badijian had worked before her death. Morelli was working with the Feds, so I assumed it was drugs, but really it could be anything from running guns to blackmarket babies. Or maybe he'd stopped there to have lunch and take a nap.

Margie's house looked better kept than Nowicki's, but empty all the same. I looked in the windows, and I wondered what Margie had done with her cat.

The next-?door neighbor stuck her head out her front door and caught me peeking in Margie's window.

“I'm looking for Margie,” I said. “I work with her at the diner, and I haven't seen her for a couple days, so I got worried. She doesn't seem to be home.”

“She went on vacation. She said it was too hard to work with her finger cut like that, so she took some time off. I think she went to the shore. I'm surprised you didn't know.”

“I knew she wasn't working. I didn't know she went to the shore.” I looked around. “Where's her cat? She take it with her?”

“No. They don't allow cats in the house she rented. I'm feeding the cat. It's no bother.”

I was half a block away when it hit me. The finger! She'd have to have it looked at. She'd have to get her stitches removed. And Maxine's mother probably needed medical attention, too. She'd still had her head all wrapped up when I saw her in Point Pleasant.

I hustled to the office so I could use the by-?street directory. Connie was doing her nails, and Lula had her ears plugged in to a Walkman. Lula's back was to me, and her beads were clicking around her head, and her ass was going side to side in some jive step. She caught me in her peripheral vision and turned the Walkman down.

“Uh oh,” she said. “You're not getting any.”

“How do you know that?” I yelled. I threw my hands into the air. “I don't believe this!”

Vinnie poked his head around the corner. “What's all the racket about?”

“Stephanie's here,” Connie said.