Twisted Twenty-Six (Stephanie Plum 26)

“What’s up?” I said to Eddie.

Eddie got out of the patrol car, stepped away, and turned his body mic off. “She bumped the lock on Marvina’s back door and let herself in. Tootie saw her do it and phoned it in. Luckily, dispatch sent me out, or Grandma would be sitting in the holding tank right now.”

“Did she explain any of this to you?”

“No. She won’t talk. She said she had a righteous mission to perform, and she has no regrets.”

“So, you bought her ice cream and called my mother?”

“Yes.”

Gazarra was great. It was a shame he married Shirley. He could have done much better. I gave him the long version of the regifting of potentially poisonous cookies. The more he heard, the larger the smile got until he was full-on cracked up.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “Barbara gave the cookies to Grandma. Grandma gave the cookies to the sisters. The sisters gave the cookies to Marvina. And Grandma broke in so she could get the cookies out of the house before Marvina came home and maybe ate another one.”

“Yep.”

“I love it,” Gazarra said. “I might have to confiscate that cookie tin. You never know when you want to give someone poison cookies. Good to have on hand.”

“I’m going to bury it,” I said.

“I’ll transfer Grandma over to your custody and write this up as mistaken identity.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

“Really? I could use a babysitter next Saturday.”

“Last time I babysat for your kids they set the kitchen on fire. I’d rather let you keep Grandma, and you could lock her up with the hookers.”

“I don’t want her,” Gazarra said. “I’d be laughed out of the building. I’d be known as ‘Granny Cop,’ and my mother would be mad at me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I TOOK GRANDMA back to my parents’ house. We emptied the cookies into a plastic bag, smashed them with a rolling pin, and put them in the garbage. If a pack of rats ate them at the landfill that was their problem.

“We’ll never know if they were poisoned,” Grandma said.

I nodded. “Another one of life’s mysteries.”

It was early afternoon when I drove away. I reached the cross street and stopped because I had a dilemma. If I went back to the office, Lula would want to go after Carol Joyce. Not only did I see riding up and down lanes in a shopping center parking lot as a waste of time . . . I also didn’t give a fig about capturing Carol Joyce. I honestly didn’t care about any part of the bail bonds business. I know this is a terrible attitude, but there it was.

Although, I had to admit I enjoyed taking down Charlie Shine with Ranger and Tank. It was nice to be part of a professional team. Nice to get the job done without a screwup and a skinned knee. And I was able to get Charlie Shine behind bars, where he wa

sn’t a threat to Grandma.

I was still wearing the baggy boyfriend jeans because there was nothing else in my closet. I had to do laundry, and I should go shopping. I was short on work clothes. Thanks to Steven Cross I had some money.

Thirty minutes later, I was in Macy’s. Buying jeans is a no-brainer. I always wear the same thing. Nothing fancy. After jeans it’s more of a struggle. I was looking at a red dress with a short swirly skirt when Carol Joyce walked up to me.

“You don’t want that dress,” he said. “It’s all wrong for you, and it’s not well made. Not worth the money.”

I gave up a moment of stunned silence before my brain kicked in.

“Carol Joyce?”

“Yes. And I’m going to save you the trouble of trying this disaster on. Trust me. I’m good at this. It’s one of the reasons I’m so successful. I only steal quality merchandise.”

“You’re serious? You risked getting cuffed to tell me this?”