Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

Valerie fighting with someone? Saint Valerie? The sister with the disposition of vanilla pudding?

When we were kids Valerie always turned her homework in on time, made her bed before going to school, and was thought to bear an uncanny resemblance to the serene plaster statues of the Virgin Mary found on Burg lawns and in Burg churches. Even Valerie's period came and went with serenity, always arriving on schedule to the minute, the flow delicate, the mood swings going from nice to nicer.

I was the sister who got cramps.

“What happened?” I asked. “How could you get into a fight with your boss? You just started that job.”

“She was unreasonable,” Valerie said. “And mean. I made one tiny mistake, and she was horrible about it, yelling at me in front of everyone. And before I knew it I was yelling back. And then I got fired.”

“You yelled?”

“I haven't been myself lately.”

No shit. Last month she decided she was going to try being a lesbian, and this month she was yelling. What was next? Full head rotation?

“So what was the mistake?”

“I spilled some soup. That's all I did. I spilled a little soup.”

“It was one of them Cup-a-Soup things,” Grandma said to me. “It had them itty-bitty noodles in it. Valerie dumped the whole thing onto a computer, and it seeped between the cracks and blew out the system. They just about had to shut the bank down.”

I didn't want bad things to happen to Val. Still, it was kind of nice to see her screw up after a lifetime of perfection.

“I don't suppose you remember anything new about Evelyn?” I asked Valerie. “Mary Alice said she and Annie were best friends.”

“They were school friends,” Valerie said. “I don't remember ever seeing Annie.”

I looked over at my mother. “Did you know Annie?”

“Evelyn used to bring her around when she was younger, but they stopped visiting a couple years ago when Evelyn started having problems. And Annie never came to the house with Mary Alice. For that matter, I don't think Mary Alice ever talked about Annie.”

“Least not so we could understand,” Grandma said. “She might of said something in horse talk.”

Valerie was looking depressed, pushing a cookie around on the kitchen table with her finger. If I was depressed, the cookie would be history. Come to think of it . . .

“Do you want that cookie?” I asked Valerie.

“I bet those little soup noodles looked like worms,” Grandma said. “Remember when Stephanie got worms? The doctor said they came off the lettuce. He said we didn't wash the lettuce good enough.”

I'd forgotten about the worms. Not one of my favorite childhood memories. Right up there with the day I vomited spaghetti and meatballs on Anthony Balderri.

I finished my soda, ate Valerie's cookie, and went next door and checked in with Mabel.

“Anything new?” I asked Mabel.

“I got another call from the bail bonds company. They won't just come in here and throw me out, will they?”

“No. It'll have to go through legal channels. And the bond company involved is reputable.”

“I haven't heard from Evelyn since she left,” Mabel said. “I thought for sure I'd hear from her by now.”

I returned to my car, and I tapped a call in to Dotty.

“It's Stephanie Plum,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

“That woman you told me about is still sitting in front of my house. I even took the day off because she's creeping me out. I called the police, but they said they couldn't do anything.”

“Do you have my card with my pager number?”