Three to Get Deadly (Stephanie Plum 3)

I got out of the elevator and confronted Mr. Wexler. “Killing is wrong.”

“We kill chickens,” Mr. Wexler said. “We kill cows. We kill trees. So big deal, we kill some drug dealers.”

It was hard to argue with that kind of logic because I like cows and chickens and trees much better than drug dealers.

I got back into the elevator and rode to the second floor. I stood there for a few minutes, trying to talk myself into a relaxing afternoon of doing nothing, but I couldn't t sell the idea. I returned to the lobby, stomped over to my truck and wedged myself behind the steering wheel. As long as I was already in a fairly vicious mood I thought I might as well visit Dickie, the little crumb. I wanted to know what he told Morelli.

I parked in a lot a block from Dickie's office, barreled through the lobby and gave his receptionist my power smile.

“I need to have a few words with Dickie,” I said. And before she could answer I turned on my heel and stalked off to Dickie's office.

Stephanie Plum 3 - Three To Get Deadly

15

Dickie didn't look happy to see me. In fact, Dickie didn't look happy at all. He was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands and his hair rumpled. This was serious stuff, because Dickie's hair was always perfect. Dickie woke up in the morning with every hair neatly in place. That he was having a bad day did nothing to dampen my spirits.

He jumped in his seat when he saw me. “You! Are you nuts? Are you wacko?” He shook his head. “This is too much. This time you've gone too far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about restraining orders. Harassment charges. Attempts at intimidating an attorney.”

“Are you putting that funny white powder in your coffee again?”

“Okay, so I fooled around a little while we were married. Okay, our divorce didn't go smooth as silk. Okay, I know you have some hostile feelings for me.” He unconsciously ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. “That's no reason to turn into the Terminator. Christ, you need help. Have you ever thought of getting some counseling?”

“I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something.”

“I'm talking about sending your goon to attack me in my parking lot this morning!”

“Lula attacked you?”

“Not Lula. The other one.”

“I don't have another one.”

“The big guy,” Dickie said. “In the ski mask and coveralls.”

“Hold the phone. I've got the picture. That wasn't my goon. And there's more than one. There's

a whole pack of them, and they've been threatening me, too. Just exactly what did he say to you?”

“He said Mo didn't need a lawyer, and I was off the case. I said Mo would have to tell that to me personally. And then the guy pulled a gun on me and said that for a lawyer I wasn't very smart at reading between the lines. I told him I was getting smarter with each passing minute. He put the gun away and left.”

“He drive away? You get a plate number?”

Dickie's face flushed. “I didn't think.”

“Mo's got a fan club,” I said. “Concerned citizens.”

“This is too weird.”

“What was the deal with Mo? What's your contribution here?”

“You're wasting your time. I'm not discussing this with you.”

“I know a lot of stuff about you that you probably wouldn't want to get around. I know about your coke habit.”