Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

“You aren't really going to keep working for him, are you? He's a nut. Plus half his workforce has graduated from Jersey Penal,” Morelli said. “And what about not wanting a dangerous job?”

“The job isn't dangerous. It's boring. I sit at a computer all day.”

I had Morelli up and dressed. I got him down the stairs and into the kitchen. I sat him at the table, put the coffee on, and left for a short walk with Bob. When I came back, Morelli was asleep with his head on the table. I put a mug of coffee in front of him, and he opened an eye.

“You have to open both eyes,” I said. “You're going to work today. Laski's picking you up in five minutes.”

“That gives me five minutes to sleep,” Morelli said.

“No! Drink some coffee. Get some legal stimulants into your system.” I danced in front of him. “Look at me. I'm wearing a gun! And look at the short shirt. Are you going to let me go to work like this?”

“Cupcake, I haven't got the energy to stop you. Anyway, maybe if you look slutty enough, Ranger will take up some of the slack in the bedroom before you make a permanent cripple out of me. Maybe you should wear that shirt with the neckline that lets your boobs hang out.” Morelli squinted at me.

“Why aren't you tired?”

“I don't know. I feel all energized. I always thought I couldn't keep up with you, but maybe you've just been slowing me down all these years.”

“Stephanie, I'm begging you. Eat some doughnuts. I can't keep going like this.”

I poured his coffee into a travel mug and got him to his feet. I shoved the crutches under his arms and pushed him to the front door. Laski was already at the curb. I helped Morelli hobble down the stairs and maneuver himself into the car. I threw his crutches onto the backseat and handed Morelli his mug of coffee.

“Have a nice day,” I said. I gave him a kiss, closed the car door, and watched as Laski motored them away, down the street.

There was a chill to the air, so I went back to the house, ran upstairs, and borrowed Morelli's leather biker jacket. I tied the Rangeman windbreaker around my waist, I gave Bob a hug, and I let myself out through the back door. I unlocked the shed and rolled the bike out, and a half hour later, I was at my desk.

I went straight into the newspaper search. I limited the search to the last three months the men were at Dix. It seemed to me that was the most likely time frame for them to do something catastrophic. I began with a name search and came up empty. None of the men were mentioned in any of the local papers. My next search was front page. I was only reading headlines, but it was still a slow process.

I stopped the Fort Dix search at nine-thirty and switched to Rangeman business, working my way through the security check requests. By noon I was questioning my ability to do the job long-term. The words were swimming on the screen, and I felt creaky from sitting. I went to the kitchen and poked at the sandwiches.

Turkey , tuna, grilled vegetables, roast beef, chicken salad. I dialed Ranger on my cell phone.

“Yo,” Ranger said. “Is there a problem?”

“I don't like any of these sandwiches.”

There was a moment of dead phone time before Ranger answered. “Go upstairs to my apartment. I think there's some peanut butter left from last time you stayed there.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm with an account. I'm inspecting a new system.”

“Are you coming home for lunch?”

“No,” Ranger said. “I won't be back until three. Are you still off sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I can get back sooner.”

“No rush,” I said. “I'm happy with peanut butter.”

“I'm counting on that being a lie,” Ranger said.

I let myself into Ranger's apartment and went straight to the kitchen. He still had the peanut butter in his fridge, and there was a loaf of bread on the granite countertop. I made myself a sandwich and washed it down with a beer. I was tempted to take a nap in Ranger's bed, but that felt too much like Goldilocks.

I was on my way out when I got a call from Lula. “I got him trapped,” she yelled into the phone. “I got Willie Martin trapped in the deli at the corner of Twenty-fifth Street and Lowrnan Avenue . Only I'm gonna need help to bag him. If you're at Rangeman it's just around the corner.”

“Are you sure you need my help?”