Diesel gave his receipt to the cashier and collected his winnings. “This is burger money,” Diesel said, draping an arm across my shoulders, moving me toward the cafe.
Stephanie Plum 13.5 - Plum Lucky
Chapter 5
We were finishing burgers and fries when Snuggy rolled into the cafe.
“I got you into a game,” Snuggy said. “It’s at Caesars, but it’s not got anything to do with the hotel. Strictly private party. Lots of money involved. Starts at ten.” He gave Diesel a slip of paper. “Here’s the room number, and the guy’s name. You ask for him, and they’ll let you in. You gotta have ten thousand to start.”
I looked over at Diesel. “Do you have ten thousand?”
“Not yet.”
“How are you going to get it?”
“I’ll take it out of the money in the duffel bag.”
Snuggy looked over his shoulder, back at the entrance to the cafe.
“Is there a problem?” Diesel asked.
Snuggy dragged his attention back to us. “No. Everything’s good.”
A half hour later, we were knocking on Grandma’s door.
“You’re just in time,” Lula said, letting us in, trotting back to the couch and wedging herself in between Grandma and Briggs. “This here’s the beginning of that show where they made what’s-?her-?name cry ‘cause she wasn’t hot enough. And then after that one is the time the fat chick wore the ugly blue dress.”
Diesel had his mouth to my ear. “She’s kidding, right?”
“Don’t you watch television?”
“Yeah. Ball games, boxing, hockey.”
“This isn’t any of those,” I told him.
Grandma had a two-?room suite. The bedroom had a king-?size bed, bureau, and two boudoir chairs. The sitting room had a large couch, a desk and chair, a comfy club chair and ottoman. The walls were butter yellow, dotted with pictures of beagles. The carpet was yellow with black dog paw prints. The draperies, couch, and chairs were done up in a yellow, orange, and white floral-?print fabric. It was like the Snoopy Boom at the insane asylum.
“What do you think of the room?” Grandma asked. “Don’t you think it’s cheery?”
“Yep,” I said. “Very cheery.”
Diesel was back at my ear. “If I stay in here too long, I’ll have a seizure.”
“We came to get some money from the bag,” I said. “Diesel needs it.”
“You have to wait,” Briggs said. “I don’t want to miss this part. The money’s all the way down in the vault. You have to go to the desk, and they take you down two flights, where they’ve got safety deposit boxes for hotel guests.
It’s a whole big deal. It’ll take a half hour, and I’ll miss the rest of the show.”
“Can I get the money?” Diesel asked.
“No. I put the money in, and I’m the only one who can get the money out. You need a picture ID, and they do a fingerprint scan. It’s like Fort Knox.”
“What kind of show is this?” Diesel asked. “They’re dancing.”
“Dancing with the Stars,” I told him. “Dancing with the Stars.”
“I’d jump off a cliff if I had to watch this every week.”