Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum 24)

“Did you catch any zombies?”

“We came close, but no. They were there. We could smell them. Carnations and rot. They must have another den somewhere in the woods. We’ll go back tomorrow when it’s light.” He spotted the measuring cup on the counter. “What’s this?”

“I went to the cemetery on Morley Street to look for Slick, and stumbled across two guys who were cooking something in this cup. They tossed the cup when they saw me and ran away. Whatever was in the cup glowed iridescent green and evaporated. Poof. There were a bunch of syringes lying around. I think this is some new street drug. And it occurred to me that it might be like the drug bath salts. Maybe something that makes people think they’re zombies.”

“Flakka?” he asked.

“Maybe a derivative of flakka,” I said.

“I’ll have CSI take a look at it. As it is, they’re working overtime. You can’t imagine what we found in the hole in Diggery’s woods.”

“Bones? Brains?”

“No brains. Everything else.” Morelli got a bag of chips out of the cupboard. “Talk to me about the cemetery. You went there alone?”

“Do you remember Diesel?”

“Big guy. Blond hair. Makes Ranger look normal.”

“Yeah. He was with me.”

“Do I want to know about this?”

“Nothing to tell. I’m letting him stay in my apartment since I’m here with you. He’s never in town for long.”

Morelli looked at the measuring cup. “So these guys just ran away?”

“Yep.”

“And whatever was in this evaporated?”

“Yes. It went hissss and evaporated. Okay, actually the one pulled a gun and shot Diesel. But it was just a nick. And then Diesel threw a knife that got stuck in the guy’s eye. And then they ran away.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. That’s the way it happened. I almost threw up. The knife was sticking out of his eye.”

“You could have a nice safe job stacking oranges at the grocery store. You could get a job at the button factory. Is it really necessary that you continue to be a bounty hunter?”

“You sound like my mother.”

Morelli put the chips back. “I’m too tired to eat these.”

We trudged upstairs, and Morelli headed for the bathroom.

“I’m going to take a fast shower,” he said. “Feel free to get started without me.”

&nb

sp; “I thought you were tired.”

“Cupcake, I’m never that tired.”

TWENTY-ONE

I WAS IN the kitchen, waiting for the coffee maker to dispense my coffee, when Morelli and Bob came in from their Sunday morning run. Hard to say which looked worse. Bob with his tongue hanging out of his mouth or Morelli dripping sweat.

“Looks like you guys had fun,” I said.