Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum 27)

Lula was surfing the net on her phone when I walked into the office. Connie was reading a Nora Roberts page-turner.

“What’s new?” I asked.

“I have a positive ID on the dead hooker for you,” Connie said. “No surprise. Alice Smuther. AKA Patches.”

“I did some research last night,” I said. “She owned a gray Range Rover.” I handed Connie a slip of paper. “Here’s the plate number. Pass it on to your network of snitches.”

“You think Shine killed her and took her car?” Lula said. “That’s not smart to be driving around in someone’s car after you drill two holes in them.”

“People aren’t always smart,” I said. “Shine has gotten away with a lot of horrible things. I suspect he feels above the law after all these years.”

Charlie Shine was the La-Z-Boy dandy. He wore flashy jewelry, drove flashy cars, and enjoyed abusing beautiful young women. He was a ruthless killer who left his calling card of a bullet in the forehead and another in the chest. In his prime, he supplemented his wet work business with a variety of illegal activities, including but not limited to white slavery, gaming, pushing drugs, and extortion. He was frequently charged with crimes but never convicted. Witnesses always recanted or disappeared. Evidence vanished.

“What do you want to do? Do you want to ride around and look for him?” Lula asked.

“No. I want to see if Trotter is home. I have a responsibility to Vinnie to bring him in, and I need the capture money. We can keep our eyes open for the gray Range Rover on our way across town.”

“I guess I’m game for that,” Lula said. “Maybe we can lure Trotter into your car with the promise of roadkill. We can tell him we saw a nice bloated dead possum on the side of the road, and he can have it if he comes with us. In case that doesn’t work, we should take the giant can of bear Mace we got in the back room.”

I hiked my messenger bag higher on my shoulder and headed for the door. “I’m hoping he’ll be more reasonable before lunch.”

“What about breakfast? You think he doesn’t drink breakfast?”

“Maybe, but I have a new attitude. I’m going to be the ball-breaker I want to be.”

“Who said that?” Lula asked. “Was that AC/DC? They had a lot of songs about balls.”

“I don’t know. It just popped into my head.”

“I noticed you got a bunch of those things popping into your head lately. Motivational sayings. We should choose one and make business cards. Like how about Stephanie and Lula, Apprehension Agents. We do epic shit.”

I liked it. Might not be accurate but it was something to work toward.

Lula followed me out and pulled up when she saw my car. “Hold on. Your car is clean. It’s all shiny and the inside looks clean, too. There’s something wrong here. Your car is never clean. It wasn’t clean when I drove it home.”

I got behind the wheel. “It’s clean sometimes.”

“It wasn’t even clean when you bought it.”

She buckled in, leaned close to me, and sniffed. “Ah hah! I know that smell. That smell is delicious. You smell like Ranger. Holy cow, you spent the night with Ranger, didn’t you? And that’s why one of his muscle men picked your car up this morning. And they got it detailed! Girlfriend, you must have done something special for that man last night.”

I pulled out into traffic. “I called him to give me a ride home from the crime scene.”

“See, now that’s an invitation.”

“It wasn’t an invitation. I needed a ride.”

“You could have called Morelli.”

“We aren’t a couple anymore.”

“Yeah, but you’re friends. And you know you’re going to be a couple again. You break up and get back together all the time. You been doing it since you were five years old.”

“This is different. He has a girlfriend.”

“Already? That’s just wrong.”

“Exactly!”