Finger Lickin' Fifteen (Stephanie Plum 15)

“Some of those cops aren’t real smart.”

“Even the dimmest bulb would be suspicious of two guys wearing Zorro masks.”

“How’d they find me here anyway?” Lula wanted to know.

“They’ve probably been following your Firebird.”

“Well, I’m not drivin’ it no more. I’m leaving it here, and I’m calling a cab. And I’m not going home, neither. I’d be sitting there waiting for them to set me on fire.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that out.”

We left the stairwell and inserted ourselves into the middle of a clump of displaced tenants. Lula called for a cab, and I called Morelli.

“Are you out of the bathroom yet?” I asked him.

“Yeah, but it’s probably temporary.”

“How’s Bob doing?”

“He’s looking better.”

“Our two hit men, dumb and dumber, just firebombed my apartment. I think they must have been following Lula and figured out that she was living here.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“I don’t think so. The firemen are here. And a bunch of cops. Everyone’s out of the building, and I don’t see the EMTs treating anyone. Marco and his partner are so inept, they shot the first firebomb into my neighbor’s window by mistake.”

“Were they captured?”

“No. Lula and I heard the shot and went to the window. We saw them in the lot, and they saw us in the window, and next thing, there was a firebomb in my dining room.”

“How bad is the fire?”

“I think it was confined to the two apartments. I don’t see any more flames coming out the windows, so I’m thinking it’s under control. I won’t know how much damage was done for a while.”

“I’d offer to come rescue you, but I’m not sure I can drag myself to the car.”

“Thanks for the thought, but I’m okay. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow.”

I disconnected and Ranger called.

“Babe,” Ranger said.

“You heard?”

“The control room picked the call up on the police scanner.”

“It was my apartment, but I’m not hurt. I think most of the fire is out, but the firemen are still working in the building.”

“Hal is sitting just outside your lot in case you need help.”

“Thanks.”

The parking lot was clogged with emergency vehicles and fire trucks fighting for space around the parked cars. Fire hoses snaked over the pavement and it was difficult to see past the glare of spotlights and strobe lights.

“The cab’s gonna pick me up on the road,” Lula said. “It’ll never get into the lot.”