Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum 25)

“Lula thinks it’s space aliens.”

“What do you think?” Morelli asked.

“I think it might be Ernie Sitz. Or someone associated with him.”

Morelli put the burgers on the grill. “What about motive?”

“Maybe he’s angry that he lost the deli and wants to get some sort of revenge.”

“I’m having a hard time with revenge. Sitz isn’t stupid. He had to know he was going to lose the deli when he used it as collateral against his bond. It was a calculated move. He traded the deli for his freedom. He never intended to hang around for his court appearance. He was out of the country less than twenty-four hours after Vinnie had him released.”

“That leaves us with the space aliens theory.”

Morelli grinned. “I like it. Takes the pressure off my department. Trenton PD doesn’t get involved in intergalactic crime.”

We ate burgers and chips and had ice cream for dessert. We walked Bob around the block and returned to the kitchen to do cleanup.

“Here’s the deal,” Morelli said, stuffing plates and utensils in the dishwasher. “The game doesn’t start until eight tonight, so we have some time to kill.”

“And?”

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

He pulled me close and kissed me. His hands were warm at my waist and the kiss was soft. I felt a rush of desire swirl through my stomach and head south.

Morelli was like the post office. He always delivered. If the delivery vehicle ran out of gas, there was no need to panic. Morelli had battery backup.

“Maybe we should move this upstairs,” Morelli said. “By the time I’m done we’re going to need a shower.”

Okay, this worked for me. We’ve had passionate experiences on the little kitchen table, bent over the kitchen counter, on the couch, the billiard table, the coffee table, the washing machine, and halfway up the stairs. His nice, big king-sized bed was definitely my favorite. I’ll take comfort over novelty any day of the week. An orgasm is an orgasm, but getting there can leave you with a herniated disc if you aren’t careful.

After the shower, we settled in to watch the game on Morelli’s big-screen TV. It’s a cozy seating arrangement since Morelli and I have to scrunch ourselves together at one end of the couch so Bob can sprawl at the other. My phone rang at nine-thirty.

“You gotta get here,” Lula said. “I’m totally freaked. I need tranqs or a burrito or something.”

“You’re in a deli,” I said. “Make yourself a grilled cheese.”

“That’s not going to do it. Maybe mac and cheese. I need a gallon of mac and cheese.”

“There’s a problem?” I asked Lula.

“Fuckin’ A there’s a problem. We got a freakin’ shoe in the parking lot. Next to the dumpster.”

“Oh boy.”

“Exactly,” Lula said. “It’s a ‘oh boy’ problem.”

“Do you know who belongs to the shoe?”

“Hell yeah. It’s Kulicki’s shoe. He was being all smart-ass about how nothing was going to happen to him. And how there weren’t aliens beaming people up to their spaceship. And next thing he was taking a bag of garbage to the dumpster and whoosh no more Kulicki. Only his shoe.”

“Did anyone see this happen?”

“No. We were all busy cleaning up and taking care of the last two customers. I couldn’t even say how long he was gone. Stretch went to the storeroom and noticed the back door to the deli was open and the light was on in the parking area. He looked out and saw the shoe.”

“Maybe Kulicki is playing a joke.”

“We called out to him but he didn’t answer,” Lula said. “And Raymond and Stretch went outside, looking around, but they couldn’t find him.”