Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

I found a dead man sitting on my couch last night. I have couch cooties, and Valerie needs me to make a shoe decision.

“Wear the pink things,” I said. “And take extra quarters, if you have any. Kloughn can always use extra quarters.”

The phone rang, and Grandma ran to answer it. The calls would start now and would go on all day. The Burg loved a good murder.

“I have a daughter who finds men dead on her couch,” my mother said. “Why me? Lois Seltzman's daughter never finds dead men on her couch.”

“Isn't this something,” Grandma said. “Three calls already, and it's not even nine. This could be bigger than the time your car got crushed by the garbage truck.”

I HAD VALERIE drive me to my apartment building on her way to work. I needed my car, and my car was parked in the lot. Upstairs, my apartment was sealed. Fine by me. I was in no great rush to move back in.

I got into the CR-V and sat there a moment, listening to the quiet. Quiet was in short supply at my parents' house.

Mr. Kleinschmidt passed me on his way to his car. “Nice going, chicky,” he said. “We can always count on you to keep things interesting. Did you really find a dead guy on your couch?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Boy, that must have been something. I wish I could have seen him.”

Mr. Kleinschmidt's enthusiasm dragged a smile out of me. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Kleinschmidt said, happily. “Call me first thing next time.” He gave me a wave and went off to his car.

Okay, so here we have a new point of view when it comes to dead people. Dead people can be fun. I thought about it for a couple minutes but had a hard time buying into the concept. The best I could do was an admission that Soder's death made my job easier. Evelyn had no reason to flee with Annie now that Soder was out of the picture. Mabel could stay in her house. Annie could return to school. Evelyn could get her life together.

Unless Eddie Abruzzi was part of the reason Evelyn had to hide. If Evelyn left because she had something Abruzzi wanted, nothing would change.

I looked at the blue

-and-white and the crime-scene truck in my parking lot. The bright spot in all this was that unlike snakes in the hall and spiders in my car, this was a major crime and the police would work hard to solve it. And how hard could it be to solve? Someone had dragged a dead man into the foyer, up a flight of stairs, down the hall, and into my apartment . . . during daylight hours.

I dialed Morelli on my cell phone.

“I have some questions,” I said. “How did they get Soder into my apartment?”

“You don't want to know.”

“I do!”

“I'll meet you for coffee,” Morelli said. “There's a new coffee shop across from the hospital.”

I GOT A coffee and a croissant, and I sat across from Morelli. “Tell me,” I said.

“Soder was sawed in half.”

“What?”

“Someone used a power saw to cut Soder in half. And then they reassembled him on your couch. The baggy sweater was hiding the fact that they duct-taped Soder back together.”

My lips went numb, and I could feel the coffee cup sliding from my grasp.

Morelli reached forward and pushed my head down, between my legs. “Breathe,” he said.

The bells stopped clanging in my brain, and the dots went away. I sat up and took a sip of coffee. “I'm better now,” I said.

Morelli did a sigh. “If only I could believe that.”

“Alright, so they cut him in half. Then what?”