Seven Up (Stephanie Plum 7)

“How about strange phone calls?”

“There was just one, but it wasn't all that strange. A woman called up while I was at Dougie's and said she thought I had something that wasn't mine. And I was like, well, yeah.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“No. I asked her if she wanted a toaster or a Super Dude Suit, and she hung up.”

“Is that all the inventory you've got left? What happened to the cigarettes?”

“Got rid of the cigarettes. I know this real heavy smoker . . .”

It was as if Mooner had been caught in a time warp. I had memories of him in high school, looking exactly like this. Long, thin brown hair, parted in the middle and tied back into a ponytail. Pale skin, slim build, average height. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans that probably had been delivered to Dougie's house under cover of darkness. He'd floated through high school in a grass-induced fog of mellow well-being, talking and giggling through lunch, nodding off in English class. And here he was . . . still floating through life. No job. No responsibility. Now that I thought about it, it sounded pretty good.

Connie usually worked mornings on Saturday. I phoned the office and waited while she got off a call.

“That was my Aunt Flo on the line,” she said. “Remember I told you there was trouble in Richmond when DeChooch was down there? She thinks it's related to Louie D buying the farm.”

“Louie D. He's a businessman, right?”

“He's a real big businessman. Or at least he was. He died of a heart attack while DeChooch was making his pickup.”

“Maybe it was a bullet that caused the heart attack.”

“I don't think so. If Louie D was whacked we would have heard. That kind of news travels. Especially since his sister lives here.”

“Who's his sister? Do I know her?”

“Estelle Colucci. Benny Colucci's wife.”

Holy shit. “Small world.”

I hung up and my mother called.

“We need to pick out a gown for the wedding,” she said.

“I'm not wearing a gown.”

“You should at least look.”

“Okay, I'll look.” Not.

“When?”

“I don't know. I'm busy right now. I'm working.”

“It's Saturday,” my mother said. “What kind of a person works on Saturday? You need to relax more. Your grandmother and I will be right over.”

“No!” Too late. She was gone.

“We have to get out of here,” I said to Mooner. “It's an emergency. We have to leave.”

“What kind of an emergency? I'm not going to get shot again, am I?”

I took the dirty dishes off the counter and threw them into the dishwasher. Then I grabbed Mooner's quilt and pillow and ran into the bedroom with them. My grandmother lived with me for a short while and I was pretty sure she still had a key to my apartment. God forbid my mother would let herself into my apartment and find it a wreck. The bed was unmade, but I didn't want to take time to make it. I gathered up stray clothes and towels and threw it all in the hamper. I barreled through the living room, back to the kitchen, grabbed my bag and my jacket, and yelled at Mooner to get moving.

We met my mother and grandmother in the lobby.

Damn!