Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum 18)

“Yeah.”

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Morelli said. “Korda wasn’t a Pink Panther. In fact, there’s no actual organization called the Pink Panthers. Interpol assigned that name to cover a group of diamond thieves loosely associated with one another. For the most part, they’re hardened criminals from what was once part of Yugoslavia and is now Montenegro.”

I finished my cinnamon roll and sipped my coffee. I wasn’t completely shocked to hear this. It had all seemed pretty far-fetched.

“Moving on,” Morelli said. “We collected enough forensic evidence from Frank Korda and the crushed Mercedes to build a case. I can’t tell you more than that because we’re still waiting on some of the tests, but I can guarantee you the killer wasn’t from Montenegro.”

“Joyce?”

“Unlikely, but she’s not ruled out.”

“I know she’s a primo liar, but she seemed to believe the Pink Panther thing.”

“Maybe Korda was conning her,” Morelli said.

“For what reason?”

Morelli shrugged. “Not for sex. You could buy Joyce with beads from the Dollar Store.”

I didn’t want to get into the treasure chest thing. In light of the information Morelli just gave me, the treasure chest story made no sense. Still, on the very slim chance I would go after the chest and break into the Korda home, I didn’t want to involve Morelli in the crime. Mostly because I was afraid he’d choose the law over me and turn me in.

Morelli ran a finger along the neckline of my T-shirt. “Speaking of sex, I have some beads upstairs, if you’re interested.”

“Are you equating me with Joyce?”

“No. I wouldn’t offer my beads to Joyce.”

“It’s an attractive offer, but I’m off men.”

“All men?” Morelli asked.

“Yes.”

“As long as it’s all men, I guess I can deal. Let me know when the policy changes.”

I hiked my bag onto my shoulder. “Places to go. Things to do.”

Morelli grabbed me and dragged me up against him. He kissed me with enough tongue to make me reconsider the beads, and I felt the heat curl through my stomach.

“Mmmmm,” I said.

“Too bad you can’t stay. I could sweeten the bead deal by throwing in another cinnamon roll.”

“It was a really great cinnamon roll.”

An hour later, I was back at Morelli’s front door. “I can’t believe I did that,” I said to Morelli.

“Does this count as our make-up sex? Or do we still have make-up sex coming to us?”

“I was supposed to be off men. And I didn’t get any beads.”

“Yeah, I lied about the beads, but you can have another cinnamon roll if you want.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” I told him.

“Do you need help getting Joyce out of your apartment? I could physically remove her.”

“I’ve done that. She comes back in through the fire escape.”