Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

“Do you have to go?”

“Yes! I promised my mother I'd get the decorations for the cars. I need to check in on Valerie. We have no food in the house. I used up all the paper towels cleaning up Bob barf. And I need to stop at the personal products plant and get a job application.”

“I think you should stay home and play with me. I'll let you write dirty suggestions on my cast.”

"Appealing, but no. Your mother and your grandmother are going to show up.

They're going to need to see for themselves that you're okay. They're going to bring a casserole and a cake, because that's what they always do. And if I'm here they're going to grill us about getting married, because that's what they always do. And then Bella is going to have a vision that involves my uterus, because that's also a constant. Better to take the cowards way out and run errands." Plus, I wanted to drop in at the funeral home and talk to Constantine Stiva about his son.

“What if I fall and I can't get up?”

“Nice try, but I've got it covered. I've got a babysitter for you. Someone who will attend to your every need while I'm gone.”

There was a sharp rap on the front door, and Lula barged in. “Here I am, ready to baby-sit your ass,” she said to Morelli. “Don't you worry about a thing. Lula's here to take care of you.”

Morelli looked over at me. “You're kidding.”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

And that was true. I was worried about Spiro returning and setting the house on fire. Spiro was nuts.

Lula set her bag in the hall and walked to the curb with me. B

ig Blue was soaking up sun on the street, ready to spring into action. I had an extra car key from Grandma. I'd gotten an extra apartment key from my building super, Dillon Ruddick. I had Morelli's credit card for the food. I was ready to roll.

It was early afternoon, and if I didn't hit too much traffic on Route One I'd be home to feed Morelli dinner.

“We'll be fine,” Lula said. “I brought some videos to watch. And I got the whole bag of tricks with me if anything nasty goes down. I even got a taser. It's brand-new. Never been used. I bet I could give a guy the runs with that taser.”

“I should be back in a couple hours,” I told her. I slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. Something under the car went phunnnf, and flames shot out on all sides and the car instantly died. I got out, and Lula and I got on our hands and knees and checked the undercarriage.

“Guess that was a bomb,” Lula said.

Little black dots floated in front of my eyes, and there was a lot of clanging in my head. When the clanging stopped, I stood and brushed road gravel off my knees, using the activity to get myself under control. I was freaking out deep inside, and that wasn't a good thing. I needed to be brave. I needed to think clearly. I needed to be Ranger. Get a grip, I said to myself. Don't give in to the panic. Don't let this bastard run your life and make you afraid.

“You're starting to scare me,” Lula said. “You look like you're having a whole conversation with someone and it isn't me.”

“Giving myself a pep talk,” I said. “Tell Morelli about the bomb. I'm taking his SUV.”

“You're whiter than usual,” Lula said.

“Yeah, but I didn't totally faint or throw up, so I'm doing good, right?”

I backed Morelli's car out of the garage and hit the first stop on my list.

A party store on Route 33 in Hamilton Township. Valerie had, at last count, three bridesmaids, one maid of honor (me), and two flower girls (Angie and

Mary Alice). We were riding in six cars. The party store had dolls in fancy gowns for the hood, bows for all the door handles, and streaming ribbons that got attached to the back of each car. Everything corresponded to the color of the gown inside the car. Mine was eggplant. Could it get any worse?

I was going to look like the attendant to the dead.

“I'm here to pick up the car decorations for the Plum wedding,” I said to the girl at the counter.

“We have them right here, ready to go,” she said, “but there's a problem with one of them. I don't know what happened. The woman who makes these is always so careful. One of the dolls looks like ... an eggplant.”

“It's a vegetarian wedding,” I told her. “New Age.”

I lugged the six boxes out to the car and drove them to my parents' house. I left the SUV idling at the curb, ran in with the boxes, dumped them on the kitchen table, and turned to leave.