Finger Lickin' Fifteen (Stephanie Plum 15)

I walked through the tangle of trucks and gawkers with Lula, keeping alert for the Chipotle killers. Hard to believe they’d still be around, but they were so stupid it was hard to predict what they’d do. We reached the street running parallel to the lot. The Rangeman SUV was parked about twenty feet away. I waved to Hal and he waved back at me. After a couple minutes, the cab arrived.

“I’m gonna have this guy take me to Dunkin’ Donuts,” Lula said. “I need a bag of doughnuts.”

“No! You’re supposed to be off doughnuts.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot. I’ll have him take me to the supermarket, and I’ll get a bag of carrots.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. You think I’m gonna feel better eatin’ a carrot? Get a grip. There’s two idiots out there trying to kill me, and you think I’m gonna waste my last breath on a vegetable?”

Lula climbed into the cab, and I returned to the parking lot. Water dripped down the side of the building and pooled on the blacktop. Some of the tenants were being allowed to return to their apartments. Dillon Ruddick was talking to a couple cops and the fire chief. I walked over to join them.

“I knew it would only be a matter of time before we met again,” the chief said to me, referring to the fact that this wasn’t the first time my apartment had been fire-bombed. Or maybe he was talking about the two cars that just got toasted.

“Not my fault,” I said, thinking that covered all the possibilities.

“What can you tell me about this?” he said to me.

Morelli was the principal on the Chipotle case, and I didn’t know how much he wanted divulged, so I didn’t say much. I described the firebomb and left it at that.

I looked up at my smoke-stained window. “How bad is it?”

“Some damage in the dining room and living room. Mostly rugs and curtains. The couch is gone. Some water damage and smoke damage. You should be able to get in tomorrow to look around, but you’re not going to want to live in it until a cleaning crew goes through.”

“What about the bathroom?”

“It didn’t reach the bathroom.”

I’d been hoping the bathroom was destroyed. I really needed a bathroom remodel.

It was another hour before the fire trucks rumbled out of my lot and I was able to move the Buick. Hal was still at curbside. I rolled my window down and told him he could go back to Rangeman.

“I’m going to spend the night at my parents’ house,” I said.

“Do you want me to follow?”

“No. I’ll be fine on my own.”

I drove down Hamilton, cut into the Burg, and parked in front of my parents’ house. The house was dark. No lights shining anywhere. Everyone had turned in for the night.

There are three small bedrooms and one bath on the second floor. My parents share a room, Grandma has a room, and the third room was mine when I lived at home. It hasn’t changed much over the years. A new bedspread and new curtains that look exactly like the old ones. I quietly crept up the stairs, carefully opened the door to my room, and had a couple beats of utter confusion. Someone was in my bed. Someone huge. Someone snoring! It was like Goldilocks, but reversed. The mountain of quilt-covered flesh turned and faced me. It was Lula!

I was dumbstruck.

When she said she’d find a place to stay, it never occurred to me it would be with my parents, in my bed. I was torn between hauling her out of my room and silently skulking away into the night. I debated it for a moment, took a step back, and closed the door. Let’s face facts, there was no way I could haul Lula anywhere. I tiptoed out of the house, got into the Buick, and drove to Rangeman.

RANGER WAS IN his apartment when I walked in. He was in the kitchen, standing at the counter and eating a sandwich.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to barge in on you. I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I wouldn’t have given you a key if I felt I needed privacy,” Ranger said. “You can come and go as you please.”

“Any more sandwiches?”

“In the refrigerator.”

I took a sandwich, unwrapped it, and bit into it. “It’s been a long night.”