Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum 27)

“Yep,” I said. “Definitely the multivitamin.”

We got to the house and did a slow drive-by. There were no vehicles in the driveway. No activity on the street. Lula parked a couple of houses down and we sat for ten minutes.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to take a look around.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lula said.

“Me, too,” Potts said.

“No. It’ll attract too much attention with all of us creeping around,” I said. “I’ll signal you if I need backup.”

“What’s the signal going to be?” Potts asked. “You could do a special bird whistle. Can you whistle?”

“I was thinking about waving my hand,” I said.

“Okay,” Potts said, “but if this gets made into a movie or a video game, we’ll need something better.”

I walked down the street to the safe house, went to the door, and rang the bell. No answer. The shades were open on the front windows. No one walking around. No television playing. I went to the backyard and looked in the kitchen window. No mess. No lights on. No dishes in the sink. The back door was locked. I returned to the car.

“It looks empty,” I said. “I couldn’t see in the garage or in any of the bedrooms, but the downstairs is clean.”

“I could open a door for you, if you want,” Lula said. “I’m real good with a screwdriver and a hammer.”

“You have a screwdriver and a hammer?” I asked.

“Of course, I have a screwdriver and a hammer,” Lula said. “Who doesn’t carry a screwdriver and a hammer? Actually, it’s not a big hammer. It’s more like a mini hammer, but it works fine if you put some muscle into it.”

We left Potts in the car and Lula and I walked around to the back of the house. We banged on the door and when no one answered, Lula did her thing and popped the new door lock open.

“You’re right about it being clean,” Lula said, looking in the refrigerator. “Nothing much in here. Some mustard and ketchup.”

We did a fast search of the rest of the house and found nothing. Closets were empty. No car in the garage. Trash had all been taken out.

“They must have had one of those maid services come in here yesterday,” Lula said. “There’s little points on the toilet paper like you see in a hotel. It doesn’t look like the new guys were staying here. How many houses does Shine have?”

“Maybe the new guys don’t need a house. Maybe they’re local. Jersey or Pennsylvania. Hopefully Connie gets a hit at one of the hospitals. They got scooped up and tossed into a blue pickup. I didn’t get a chance to check the plate, but it looked like the same truck Shine’s nephew was driving.”

“Are you sure one of them wasn’t the nephew?” Lula asked.

I shook my head. “They were new.”

We returned to the car and Lula drove out of the neighborhood. “Now what?” she asked.

“The Mole Hole,” I said.

Potts started humming, caught himself, and stopped.

“Isn’t that like walking into the hornets’ nest?” Lula asked.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what it is.”

“Okay,” Lula said. “I’m in.”

“Me, too,” Potts said.

* * *

There were only a handful of vehicles in the Mole Hole parking lot and none of them was a blue pickup, a white Taurus, a black Escalade, or a Mercedes sports car. It was midafternoon and the dining area was empty when we walked in. The bar was half full and a rhythm-challenged woman was on the pole.