Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum 25)

“Of course not.”

“You are. I just heard them announce a flight to Miami.”

Annie disconnected.

I banged my head against the steering wheel and told Lula that Annie was at the airport.

“She’s sneaky,” Lula said. “You gotta respect that.”

“I’m going back to the office,” I said. “I want to talk to Vinnie.”

“You aren’t going to quit the deli job, are you? That would be a big mistake. Huge mistake. We got a future with sandwiches. I could see people traveling for hours just to get one of our sandwiches. We could be up there with the Amazon guy and the Facebook guy except with sandwiches. I’m thinking about taking out patents on my sandwich creations. You know that last sandwich that we made where we started to run out of stuff so we put in whatever was left?”

“The sandwich with the green sliced turkey?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking about getting a patent on that one and calling it the Garbage Truck.”

I thought it might be more accurately called the Salmonella Special.

I left the apartment complex, drove to the office, and parked.

“The place looks closed up,” Lula said.

We got out and went to the door. Locked. No lights on inside. I called Connie.

“Where are you?” I asked her.

“I’m still at the courthouse. Did you find Annie Gurky?”

“No. I’m at the office and it’s locked. Where’s Vinnie?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Try his cellphone.”

I called Vinnie’s cellphone and home phone. No answer on either.

“This is fate stepping in,” Lula said. “Fate doesn’t want you to quit the deli.”

I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, thinking fate was a load of baloney, when Morelli cruised down the street. He hooked an illegal U-turn and pul

led in behind my car.

It was September and Jersey was still feeling like summer. Morelli was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. His hair was curling over his ears and down the back of his neck, and he had a five o’clock shadow a couple hours early. He smiled at me, and my doodah got happy.

“I was just about to call you,” he said. “Are you up for burgers tonight?”

Morelli and I don’t live together, but I keep a change of clothes and a toothbrush at his house. Burgers would be good. What followed would be even better.

“Burgers sound okay, but I might be late,” I said. “I’m helping out at the Red River Deli.”

“Yeah, she’s the new manager,” Lula said. “And I’m the assistant manager.”

Morelli wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me to the side of the building.

“I suppose you want to have a private conversation,” Lula yelled after us. “I’ll just wait in the car, being that I’m tired from eating all that pie anyways.”

“Are you serious?” Morelli asked me. “Manager?”

“The agency was awarded the deli on a bond foreclosure. Harry’s decided to keep it, and he asked me to be manager.”