Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

What are the chances? I finally find Evelyn, and I run into Martin Paulson, itching for a fight. “Forget it,” I said. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I work here. I work at the drugstore, and I'm on my lunch break. I was falsely accused, you know.”

Yeah, right. “Get out of my way.”

“Make me.”

I pulled the stun gun out of my bag, rammed it into Paulson's big belly, and hit the button. Nothing happened.

Paulson looked down at the stun gun. “What is that, a toy?”

“It's a stun gun.” A worthless piece of crap stun gun.

Paulson took it from me and looked at it. “Cool,” he said. He turned it off, and then he turned it on. And then he touched it to my arm. There was a flash of light in my head, and everything went black.

Before the blackness turned back to light, I could hear voices, far away. I struggled to get to the voices and they became louder, more distinct. I managed to get my eyes open, and faces swam into view. I tried to blink away the buzzing, and I took an assessment of the situation. Flat on my back on the floor. Paramedics hovering over me. Oxygen mask over my nose. Blood pressure cuff on my arm. Grandma beyond the paramedics, looking worried. Paulson beyond Grandma, peeking at me over her shoulder. Paulson. Now I remember. The son of a bitch knocked me out with my own stun gun!

I jumped up and lunged at Paulson. My legs gave out and I went down to my knees. “Paulson, you pig!” I yelled.

Paulson ducked back and disappeared.

I was trying to get the oxygen mask off, and the paramedics were trying to keep it on. It was the attack of the geese all over again.

“I thought you were dead,” Grandma said.

“Not nearly. I accidentally came into contact with my stun gun when it was live.”

“Now I recognize you,” one of the paramedics said to me. “You're the bounty hunter who burned the funeral home down.”

“I burned it down, too,” Grandma said. “You should have been there. It was like fireworks.”

I stood and tested my ability to walk. I was a little creaky, but I didn't fall down. That was a good sign, right?

Grandma handed me, my shoulder bag. “That nice round man gave me your stun gun. I guess it got dropped in all the excitement. I put it in your bag,” she said.

First c

hance I got I was going to pitch the damn stun gun into the Delaware River. I looked around, but Evelyn was long gone. “I don't suppose you saw Evelyn or Annie?” I asked Grandma.

“No. I got myself one of those big soft pretzels, and I had them dip it in chocolate.”

I DROPPED GRANDMA off at my parents' house, and I went home to my apartment. I stood in the hall at the door for a moment before inserting the key in the lock. I took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. I stepped into the small foyer area, and I very softly sang, who's afraid of the big bad wolf . . . . I peeked into my kitchen and felt a sense of relief. Everything was okay in the kitchen. I moved into the living room and stopped singing. Steven Soder was sitting on my couch. He was listing slightly to one side, holding the remote in his right hand, but he wasn't watching television. He was dead, dead, dead. His eyes were milky and unseeing, his lips were parted, as if he'd been surprised, his skin was ghoulishly bloodless, and he had a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. He was wearing a baggy sweater and khaki slacks. And he was barefoot.

Criminey, isn't it bad enough I have a dead guy sitting on my couch? Does he have to be freaking barefoot?

I silently backed out of the room, and out of my apartment. I stood in the hall and tried to dial 911 on my cell phone, but my hands were shaking, and I had to try several times before I got it right.

I stayed in the hall until the police arrived. When my apartment was swarming with cops, I crept back into my kitchen, wrapped my arms around Rex's cage, and took Rex out of the apartment into the hall with me.

I was still in the hall, holding the hamster cage, when Morelli arrived. Mrs. Karwatt from next door and Irma Brown from upstairs were with me. Beyond Mr. Wolesky's door I could hear Regis. Not even for a homicide would Mr. Wolesky miss Regis. No matter it was a rerun.

I was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, hamster cage on my lap. Morelli squatted next to me and looked in at Rex. “Is he okay?”

I nodded yes.

“How about you?” Morelli asked. “Are you okay?”

My eyes filled with tears. I wasn't okay.