Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum 25)
“Did you call the police?”
“I’m thinking that’s what I’m doing now. And remember I need a ride to my car. It’s at the office.”
“Okeydokey then. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
I disconnected, gave up a sigh, and stood. “It looks like Kulicki lost a shoe.”
“Who’s Kulicki?”
“He was the new deli manager. We sort of hired him.”
“And he lasted how long?”
I checked my watch. “Approximately four hours.”
“Damn,” Morelli said. “Those aliens are good. They spotted a new manager after only four hours.”
“You’re thinking someone on the inside is involved.”
“It’s possible.”
“There were only three people who knew Kulicki was the manager.”
“Krut probably wants to talk to them . . . again.”
I grabbed my messenger bag off the coffee table and hiked it onto my shoulder. “I have to roll.”
“I’ll roll with you. I want to make sure you don’t get beamed up by mistake.”
* * *
¦ ¦ ¦
Morelli called Jimmy Krut from the car, and by the time we got to the deli there were already two uniforms on the scene. Krut arrived a couple minutes after us. Lula, Stretch, Raymond, and Dalia were hunkered down inside.
“This is getting very old,” Raymond said to me. “I am thinking this is not such a good place to work.” He looked over at Morelli. “I have a green card.”
“Good for you,” Morelli said. “Can I see it?”
“No,” Raymond said. “It would not be possible to show it to you at this time. I fear I have misplaced it.”
“You should try to find it,” Lula said. “You could lose your job here without that green card.”
“Fortunately, this is a sanctuary deli,” Raymond said. “It is a prime consideration for maintaining employment at this establishment.”
One of the uniforms ran a strip of crime scene tape across the back of the deli parking lot, and a photographer showed up to take pictures of the shoe before Krut bagged and labeled it. Morelli walked the alley with a flashlight, and I stayed inside and helped myself to a piece of coconut cream pie.
“We should get Vinnie to put up a security camera over the back door,” Lula said. “Then we’d see next time someone got snatched.”
“Vinnie is MIA,” I said. “He’s not going to be a lot of help here.”
“I forgot,” Lula said. “There’s so many people missing I could hardly keep track of them.”
I ate my pie and considered Raymond, Stretch, and Dalia. Morelli brought up a good point. Kulicki disappeared in record time. Not many people knew he was the manager. That information had to have been passed on from Raymond, Stretch, or Dalia.
We were all sitting in the dining area. Lula was checking out Facebook. Dalia was filing her nails. Raymond and Stretch were texting on their smartphones.
“Did any of you tell anyone we had a new manager?” I asked.