Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum 18)

“Wonderful. Anything else?”

“Be careful.”

I took Route 1 back to Trenton. I turned off Broad and parked in front of the bonds office. Lancer and Slasher were across the street, sound asleep in the Lincoln. Connie was inside at her desk, wearing a disposable surgical mask.

“What’s with the mask?” I asked her.

“This office reeks,” Connie said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

Lula tipped her head back and sniffed. “Rat fart,” she said. “They probably got into the deli Dumpster. Smells like they been eating sauerkraut.”

“You’re an expert on this?” I asked her.

“I know a rat fart when I smell one. And there’s more than one rat farting up there. You probably got a rat condo over you. Personally, I don’t like rats. They got those beady eyes, and skinny tails, and they give you the plague.”

Connie was staring at my hair. “Speaking of rats’ nests!”

“Brenda thought I needed to glam up,” I said to Connie.

“It looked good before Miss Prim and Proper here tried to comb it,” Lula said. “She ruined the dramatic effect of the line.”

“I like the color,” Connie said.

“It’s Brenda’s specialty,” Lula said. “It’s called Route 1 Sunrise.”

Connie adjusted her mask. “It takes the attention away from the black eye.”

“I’m leaving,” I said. “The rat farts are getting to me.” I turned to Lula. “I’m going after Magpie tonight. Are you in?”

“Hell, yeah. And if we get done early enough, we could go to a club and test-drive your hair.”

Oh boy.

• • •

It took half a bottle of detangler and two sheets of Downy fabric softener to untease my hair. I showered and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, my thinking being to not compete clotheswise with Route 1 Sunrise.

At seven-thirty, I grabbed my bag and a black hooded sweatshirt and went to the lobby to wait for Lula. Ordinarily, I’d wait outside, but Raz was still at large, and I didn’t want to chance running into him in the dark.

Lula’s Firebird cruised up to the door, and I jumped in.

“Where we going?” Lula looked over at me.

“All Saints Cemetery. It’s behind the big Catholic church on Nottingham.”

“I know that cemetery. It’s real pretty. It’s got hills and woods and shit.”

Twenty minutes later, Lula pulled into the church parking lot, cut her lights, and crept to the back of the lot, where a single-lane road led into the cemetery. We got out of the Firebird and stood for a moment, letting our eyes adjust to the darkness.

“I smell campfire,” Lula said. “Magpie’s out there, heating his beans like a hobo.”

I had cuffs stuck into my back pocket, stun gun in my sweatshirt pocket, Glock in my bag. I was carrying a Maglite, but I didn’t want to use it and spook Magpie. There was a sliver of moon behind broken clouds. Enough light to see three feet in front but not much more. The church was lit from the front. The rear was dark, as was the graveyard.

“This is creepy,” Lula whispered, following close behind me. “I don’t like walking around cemeteries at night. All the ghosts come out at night. I can feel them breathing on me.”

We were deep into the cemetery when a set of headlights flashed into the parking lot and instantly blinked out. Lancer and Slasher, I thought. In a strange way, it was comforting.

We were following the road, and I could see a dark shape ahead. Something large. Magpie’s Crown Vic. Beyond the Vic, I could hear the crackle of wood burning and see the occasional red ember float skyward. This wasn’t the first time I’d captured Magpie. We had a fairly cordial relationship, all things considered. He wasn’t a violent person.