Top Secret Twenty-One (Stephanie Plum 21)

“He’s some out-of-state relative who was visiting while he was on a job interview,” Grandma said.

“And the three older women next to him?”

“Sisters of the deceased. All of them spinsters. There was rumors of them always being a little off.”

“In what way?”

“I heard they liked each other too much, if you know what I mean.”

People were pouring in after us, filling all the seats, forming a line to give condolences and check out Mrs. Poletti’s hair and makeup.

Grandma knew everyone.

“Who’s that man?” I asked her.

“Buster’s father,” Grandma said. “He was a construction expeditor. The woman behind him knows Mrs. Poletti from Bingo.”

After an hour, the river of mourners dwindled to a small trickle, and I left my seat to eavesdrop and ask questions. Everyone had some connection to the Poletti family, whether it was blood or Bingo. Except for Grandma, who was just plain nosy.

Jimmy Poletti’s wife, Trudy, was noticeably absent. Silvio and Miriam Pepper arrived late, gave their condolences to the family, and left through a side door before I had a chance to talk to them. Aaron and his wife also left early. Oswald Poletti ambled out of the Slumber Room fifteen minutes before the viewing ended and pushed through the crowd to the cookie table. He was shoving Oreos into his rumpled jacket pocket when I cornered him.

“Sorry about your grandmother,” I said.

“She was, like, old,” he said.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from your father.”

“Dear old Dad don’t call much.”

“I don’t mean to be judgmental, but is there ever a moment in the day when you aren’t stoned?”

“What?”

Buster moved into my line of vision on his way to the door, and I ran after him.

“Stephanie Plum,” I said, extending my hand. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“You’re the bounty hunter who broke into my apartment and found Bernie.”

“I didn’t break in. The door was open.”

“I heard you were with Jimmy’s bookkeeper. For a little guy, he gets around.”

“He’s helping me find Jimmy.”

“Whatever.” He focused on my breasts in the stretchy white tanktop. “You’re cuter than I expected. I bet you’re good with handcuffs.”

“I’m even better with a stun gun,” I said. “And I’ve been known to shoot people on occasion.”

“Stop. You’re getting me excited. I’m getting a boner.”

“I guess that’s an accomplishment at your age,” I said.

Buster grimaced. “Jeez, you really know how to ruin a moment.”

“About Jimmy …”

“I don’t know anything about Jimmy. Personally, I think he was framed. And I don’t know where he is now. End of story.”