Finger Lickin' Fifteen (Stephanie Plum 15)

“I’m in the bedroom,” Ranger said.

“Are you naked?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“No.” That was a total lie, but I was too chicken to say yes. Even if a woman was sworn off men for life, she’d still want to see Ranger naked. And I was only sworn off men for the time being.

He walked out to see me. “What do you have?”

“Suppose our man gets into the house under some pretext. Like maybe he’s checking phone lines or cable lines. And then he plants a small camera in such a way that it gets a video of the owner punching in the code. And then a couple days later, he comes back and gets the camera. Or maybe the camera sends the video out to an exterior location and then he gets the camera when he commits the robbery. Could he do that?”

“I suppose it could be done, but there’ve been a lot of break-ins, and no one has noticed a camera.”

“Yeah, but these cameras are small. And maybe they get placed alongside other devices like smoke detectors or motion sensors.”

“I like it,” Ranger said. “Run with it.”

“Would you mind if I went to some of your accounts and did a fast check of the areas where touch pads have been installed?”

“Make sure you show them your Rangeman ID and tell them you’re a tech.”

I ROLLED OUT of the garage and realized it was barely seven o’clock. What on earth is a person supposed to do at this hour? I could go to breakfast at the diner, but I’d just eaten. My parents would be getting up around now, and it might be fun to see everyone fighting over the bathroom. But then, maybe not. I drove past the office. No lights on. Connie never came in this early. I cruised past Morelli’s house. No one on the front lawn. His SUV parked at curbside. A single light on upstairs. Morelli was most likely moving a little slow this morning. I avoided my apartment building. It was too soon to get in, and I knew the sight of the fire-blackened windows would make me feel sad.

That left me with Myron Kaplan. I returned to the center of the city and parked across the street from Kaplan’s house. It was Monday morning and some houses showed signs of life, but not Kaplan’s. If I was a television bounty hunter, I’d kick the door down and go in guns drawn to catch Kaplan by surprise. I elected not to do this because it seemed like a mean thing to do to a guy who just wanted to return his teeth, I wasn’t any good at kicking doors down, and I didn’t have a gun. My gun was home in my cookie jar, and it wasn’t loaded, anyway.

So I hung out in Ranger’s brand-new Cayenne, watching Kaplan’s house, telling myself I was doing surveillance. Truth is, I was snoozing. I had the seat reclined and was feeling very comfy inside the big car with the dark tinted windows.

I woke up a little after nine and saw movement behind Kaplan’s front window. I got out of the car and rang Kaplan’s bell.

“Oh jeez,” Kaplan said when he saw me. “You again.”

“I’ll make a deal,” I said. “I’ll take you to breakfast if you go to the police station with me when you’re done.”

“I don’t want to go to breakfast. I haven’t got any teeth. I have to gum everything to death. And if I swallow big chunks of stuff, I get indigestion. Can’t eat bacon at all.”

“You got your money back. Why don’t you go to another dentist and get new teeth?”

“I called some other dentists and couldn’t get an appointment. I think they’re all in cahoots. I’m on a blacklist.”

“Dentists don’t have blacklists.”

“How do you know? Are you sure they don’t have blacklists?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure doesn’t cut it, chickie.”

“Okay, we’ll go to plan B. Let’s pay a visit to your old dentist.”

“The quack?”

“Yeah. Let’s talk to him about your teeth.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a waste of time,” Myron said. “You’ll never get in.”