Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum 13)

Grandma patted her purse. “Don't worry about it.” She stepped inside and looked around. “What the heck's going on here?”

“Carl is a taxidermist,” I told Grandma.

“The best in the city,” Coglin said. “I'm an artiste.”

“I never seen anything like this,” Grandma said. “You should go on the shopping channel. I bet you could clean up.”

“I've thought of that,” Coglin said. “I even wrote a letter to Suzanne Somers once. I think my performance pieces would be especially popular.”

“Everything's real lifelike. You expect them to just start walking around.”

“Sometimes when pets die, people bring them here to get restored, so they can take them home and put them on display,” Coglin said.

Grandma was standing wide-eyed in front of a dog with big glass eyes and a tooth missing. “Isn't that something. That's a pip of an idea. I'm surprised they haven't thought to do that with people.” Grandma looked to me. “I could have brought your grandfather home and set him in his favorite chair.” She slid her dentures around and gave it more thought. “Would have been hard when I moved into your mother's house. It's already jammed full of furniture. I would have had to get rid of Harry.”

“Sometimes my pieces get sold on eBay,” Coglin said.

“I love eBay,” Grandma said. “Harry probably wouldn't have fetched much, but the chair was worth something.”

I put a call in to Connie and told her I was leaving for the courthouse with Coglin in tow.

“Just be careful not to touch any of the performance pieces,” Coglin told Grandma.

“Don't worry about me. I won't break anything,” Grandma said.

“And don't shoot anyone,” I said to Grandma. “Especially the cable people.”

“Those fuckers,” Grandma said.

“That wasn't so bad,” Coglin said when we turned onto his street. “I didn't have to wait in jail or anything.” He was sitting forward, straining against his seatbelt. “I don't see a cable truck.” “It s still early,” I told him.

I parked in front of his house and Binkie parked behind me. Coglin got out and checked the cable stretching across his street for breaks. It looked intact, so we went to the house to spring Grandma.

Grandma had the door open before we reached the porch. “Good thing I was here,” she said. “The cable man showed up almost as soon as you left. He ran a new cable under the road, and I stood out there and watched him to make sure he wasn't fibbing about the new cable. And then I wouldn't let him leave until he came in and tried the television. And it looks to me like everything's good now. And he's sending someone to remove the old cable that's running across the road. Probably won't happen for another six months, but it don't really matter.”

“Oh gosh,” Coglin said. “I can't believe it. The nightmare is over. I can leave the house during the day. I can fill e-mail orders and pay my online accounts.” He swiped at a tear. “I feel real stupid getting all emotional like this, but it's been terrible. Just terrible.”

“That's okay,” Grandma said. “We all get like that over the cable company.”

“I can't thank you enough. This was so nice of you to stay here.”

“I've been having a good time looking at all the animals,” Grandma said. “It's like being in a museum or something. My favorite is this big groundhog because he has three eyes. Imagine that, a groundhog with three eyes.”

Grandma reached out and touched an eye and bang!

Grandma was head-to-toe groundhog. There was groundhog hair stuck everywhere.

“Son of a bee's wax,” Grandma said.

“That's okay,” Coglin said. “I've got a bunch of groundhogs.”

I led Grandma down the sidewalk to the car and got her strapped in.

“He must have overstuffed it,” Grandma said.

“It happens all the time,” I said to Grandma. “Don't worry about it. I'm going to take you home, and we'll get you cleaned up and you'll be good as new.”

I called my mother from the road to warn her.