Plum Spooky (Stephanie Plum 14.50)

I did a fast walk-?through of the house. Not much to see. Two small bedrooms, living room, single bath, small eat-?in kitchen. These houses were built by the button factory after the war to entice cheap labor, and the button factory didn‘t waste money on frills. The houses had been sold many times over since then and were now occupied by an odd assortment of se nior citizens, newly marrieds, and crazies. Seemed to me, Munch fit into the crazy category.

There were no clothes in the closet, no toiletries in the bathroom, no computer anywhere. Munch had cleared out, leaving a carton of milk, some sprouted onions, and a half-?empty box of Rice Krispies behind.

“It‘s the strangest thing,” Lula said. “I got this sudden craving for coffee cake. Do you smell cinnamon? It‘s like it‘s mixed up with Christmas trees and oranges.”

I‘d noticed the scent.

And I was afraid I recognized it.

“How about you?” I asked Carl. “Do you smell cinnamon?”

Carl did another shrug and scratched his butt.

“Now all I can think of is cinnamon buns,” Lula said. “I got buns on the brain. We gotta go find some. Or maybe a doughnut. I wouldn‘t mind a dozen doughnuts. I need a bakery. I got cravings.”

Everyone vacated the kitchen, I closed the back door, and we all piled into the Jeep. I found my way to Hamilton and stopped at Tasty Pastry.

“What kind of doughnut do you want?” I asked Lula.

“Any kind. I want a Boston Cream, a strawberry jelly, a chocolate-?glazed, one of them with the white icing and pretty colorful sprinkles, and a blueberry. No, wait. I don‘t want the blueberry. I want a vanilla cream and a cinnamon stick.”

“That‘s a lot of doughnuts.”

“I‘m a big girl,” Lula said. “I got big appetites. I feel like I could eat a million doughnuts.”

“How about you?” I asked Carl. “Do

you need a doughnut?”

Carl vigorously shook his head yes and jumped up and down in his seat and made excited monkey noises.

“It‘s creepy that this monkey knows what we‘re saying,” Lula said. “It‘s just not right. It‘s like he‘s a alien monkey or something.”

“Sometimes Morelli‘s dog, Bob, knows what I‘m saying. He knows walk, and come, and meatball.”

“Yeah, Tank knows some words, too, but not as many as this monkey,” Lula said. “Of course, that‘s ‘cause Tank‘s the big, strong, silent type.”

Tank is Lula‘s fiancé, and his name says it all. He‘s Ranger‘s right-?hand man, second in command at Ranger‘s security firm, Rangeman, and he‘s the guy Ranger trusts to guard his back. To say that Tank is the big, strong, silent type is a gross understatement on all accounts.

Fifteen minutes later, we were in the Jeep and we‘d eaten all the doughnuts.

“I feel a lot better,” Lula said. “Now what?”

I looked down at my shirt. It had powdered sugar and a big glob of jelly on it. “I‘m going home to change my shirt.”

“That don‘t sound real interesting,” Lula said. “You could drop me at the office. I might have to take a nap.”

Stephanie Plum 14.5 - Plum Spooky

TWO

I PARKED MY Jeep in the lot behind my apartment building, and Carl and I crossed the lot and pushed through the building‘s rear entrance. We took the elevator to the second floor, and Carl waited patiently while I opened my door.

“So,” I said to him, “do you miss Susan?”

He shrugged.

“You do a lot of shrugging,” I told him.