Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum 13)

I followed Grandma up and down the aisles, past personal products to Metamucil, hemorrhoid remedies, hair spray, Harlequin romances, greeting cards. She got her denture glue and moved to lipsticks.

A gap-toothed, redheaded kid rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of us. “Hi!” he yelled.

He was followed by Cynthia Hawser. Cynthia and I had been classmates. She was married

now to a gap-toothed, redheaded guy who'd fathered three gap-toothed, redheaded kids. They lived a block over from Morelli in a little duplex that had more toys than grass in the front yard.

"This is Jeremy/' Cynthia said to Grandma and me.

Jeremy had trouble written all over him. Jeremy just about vibrated with energy. “What a cute little boy,” Grandma said. “I bet you're real smart.”

“I'm too smart for my britches,” Jeremy said. “That's what most people tell me.” An old man shuffled up and looked us over. He was wearing a wavy jet-black toupee that

sat slightly askew on his bald dome. He had bushy, out-of-control eyebrows, a lot of ear hair, and even more slack skin than Grandma. I thought he looked to be on the far side of eighty. “What s going on here?” he asked.

“This is Uncle Elmer,” Cynthia said. “There was a fire in his apartment at assisted living so he came to live with us.”

“It wasn't my fault,” Uncle Elmer said.

“You were smoking in bed,” Jeremy said. “It's lucky you didn't cream yourself.”

Cynthia grimaced. “You mean cremate”

Uncle Elmer grinned at Grandma. “Who's this sexy young thing?”

“Aren't you the one,” Grandma said to Elmer.

Elmer winked at her. “The boys at the home would love you. You look hot.”

“It's the coat,” Grandma said. “It's wool.”

Elmer fingered the coat. “Looks like good quality. I was in retail, you know. I can tell quality.”

“I've had it for a while,” Grandma said. “I was taller when I first bought it. I've shrunk up some.”

Elmer gave his head a small shake, and the toupee slid over one ear. He reached up and righted it. “The golden years are a bitch,” Elmer said.

“You don't look like you shrunk much,” Grandma said. “You're a pretty big guy.”

“Well, some of me s shrunk and some of me s swollen up,” Elmer said. “When I was young, I got a lot of tattoos, and now they don't look so good. One time, I got drunk and got Eisenhower tattooed on my balls, but now he looks like Orville Redenbacher.”

“He makes good popcorn,” Grandma said.

“You bet. And don't worry, I still got it where it counts.”

“Where s that?” Grandma asked.

“In the sack. Hangs a little lower than it used to, but the equipment still works, if you know what I mean.”

“Uncle Elmer poops in a bag,” Jeremy said.

“It's temporary,” Elmer said. “Jus* ^ the bypass heals up. They put some pig intestine in me on an experimental basis.”

“Gee,” I said, “look at the time. We have to be running along now.”

“Yeah, I can't be late for dinner tonight,” Grandma said. “I want to make the early viewing at the funeral parlor. Milton Buzick is laid out, and I hear you wouldn't even recognize him.”

“You got a good funeral parlor here?” Elmer asked Grandma.