Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum 18)
“That’s it,” I said to her. “I’m going to shoot you and bury your body where no one will ever find it.”
“Relax. I just dropped in to get my chest. You went to Korda’s house this morning, right?”
“Right. So I have some good news, and I have some bad news. The good news is the Pink Panthers aren’t trying to kill you. Probably no one’s trying to kill you. The bad news is, I found the treasure chest, but the only treasure in it was the remains of Korda’s cat, Miss Kitty.”
Joyce went pale. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it. It’s true. Ask Pat Korda. She’s got it sitting on her mantel. And just out of morbid curiosity, what did you really want with the chest?”
Joyce pressed her lips together and took a couple beats to get it together. “This is a real pisser,” she finally said. “I actually think you’re telling the truth. You haven’t got enough imagination to invent something that hideous.”
“About the chest?”
“What the hell, it doesn’t matter now. Frank said he kept the safe combination in it. He said half the combination was on my key, and the other half was in the chest.”
“You were going to rob the safe?”
“No. I was going to sell the combination. If I robbed the safe, I’d have to find a fence, and I didn’t
think chances were good I could depend on the Pink Panthers. I tried picking the lock to the store, but I couldn’t get in. Then I thought of you. I figured you were dumb enough to get Ranger to open the door for you. Then you could get me the chest.”
“How about the guy who bought the combination? How was he getting in?”
“Not my problem,” Joyce said. “He could go in the front window with a bulldozer for all I cared.”
It was comforting to know Joyce was still her old obnoxious, rotten self. Parts of my life were so beyond my control that it was nice to have consistency in others.
“Since we have everything settled, I guess you’ll be leaving now and not coming back,” I said to Joyce.
“Yeah, I suppose, but I need a ride. In case you forgot, my car got compacted.”
“How did you get here?”
“Taxi. And I’m not taking one home. My income source just evaporated.”
• • •
Forty-five minutes later, I dropped Joyce off at her town house.
“You’re positive the Pink Panthers aren’t looking for me, right?” Joyce asked.
“Positive. Korda made the whole thing up. It was a line he used to get women to sleep with him. You weren’t the only one. And if he gave you any jewelry it was probably fake.”
“No shit. I found that out when I tried to pawn my necklace. I didn’t get crap for it.”
I drove away half afraid if I looked in my rearview mirror I’d see Joyce running after me.
I had a bunch of open files in my messenger bag that I should have started working my way through, earning rent money. But having resolved Lahonka, Buggy, and Joyce, I thought it was time to focus my energy on staying alive, and that meant I had to get rid of the photograph hunters. Raz was in the wind, and I had no good way to find him. Brenda was going to stick with her lame fiancée story, at least for now. That left Lancer and Slasher as the weak link. I was convinced they knew nothing beyond their instructions to follow me. I had to go farther up the food chain if I wanted real information.
I called Berger on my way across town. “Anything new on the photograph thing?” I asked him.
“Nothing significant.”
“How about insignificant?”
“Two out of three people polled agree that the second sketch looks like Ashton Kutcher.”
“Anything on Lancelot or Larder?” I asked.