Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum 25)

“No,” Connie said. “Maybe something will come in later today.”

“I tell you it’s a sad day in Trenton when there’s so little crime that us bounty hunters are out of work,” Lula said. “What’s this town coming to? I think it’s all because of those damn tax cuts. People don’t have to steal and deal drugs no more.”

“Drug dealers don’t pay taxes,” I said to Lula.

“Say what?”

“It’s illegal to deal drugs, so drug dealers don’t declare income.”

“Hunh, I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Lula said.

“Let’s go take a look at the Snake Pit before we open the deli.”

I cut across town, turned right onto Stark, and cruised past the hookers, the gangbangers, and the stoop sitters. I reached the first block of war-zone buildings and looked for any indicators that one of them was the Snake Pit. I hit the second block and slowed when I approached Waggle’s address.

“There’s only one building standing here,” Lula said. “This has to be where the band plays.”

I didn’t see any activity in the area. No cars. No people. No lighting equipment. No marauding packs of feral cats.

“I guess they set everything up last minute,” Lula said.

I looked in my rearview mirror. The Rangeman SUV was still on my bumper. This gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I wasn’t on my own in no-man’s-land. I cut off Stark at the end of the block and headed for the deli.

* * *

¦ ¦ ¦

Lula and I were the first to arrive. Hal pulled in just as I was opening the door. Stretch and Raymond wandered in minutes later. I flipped the lights on, Lula unlocked the back door for the provisions delivery, Raymond went to the fry station. The phone rang, and Hal took the first order of the day. We were settling into a work rhythm. This scared the bejeezus out of me. I didn’t want to settle into a work routine here. This wasn’t my dream job. Truth is, I didn’t have a dream job in mind. I just knew this wasn’t it. This job was even less it than my job as a bounty hunter. I thought after a couple weeks of working at this job it might be a relief to get abducted.

Lula had decided to wear her ’ho leathers as an accompaniment to her massive magenta hair. She was stuffed into over-the-knee black stiletto-heeled boots, a tight black leather skirt that barely covered her hoo-ha, and a black leather bustier that was struggling to contain her triple-D boobs. When she stood next to Hal in his Rangeman uniform they looked like they were working the lunch shift for S&M Deli.

A horn blared from the back lot, telling us the provisions truck had arrived. Raymond grabbed the clipboard hanging by Stretch’s station and went to check off the supplies. There were several companies that made deliveries to the deli. The main provisioner, Central GP, came daily. Twice a week we received frozen foods. Twice a week the laundry was collected and returned by Kan Klean. And twice a week a Berger’s Bits butcher shop truck delivered meat that wasn’t frozen or pre-packaged. The only fish on the menu was tuna that came from a big restaurant-sized can.

Frankie drove the

Central GP truck that brought us paper products, condiments, canned goods, baked goods, fresh produce, packaged lunch meats, dairy, and weed. My understanding was that the more exotic controlled substances were a special order. I personally don’t do drugs. I have enough trouble making smart decisions when I’m clean and sober.

“We have received everything we asked for,” Raymond said when the truck pulled away. “I will put all these things in their proper place.”

“It’s Thursday,” Stretch said. “Bonus day. Did Frankie leave us anything interesting?”

“Yes, I have some blue pills,” Raymond said.

Stretch looked over at the bottle of pills. “What are they?”

“Frankie didn’t know. Frankie found them in the pocket of a dead man. He was one of the line cooks for the East Street Banana Kitchen. Frankie carried a five-gallon container of rice pudding into the walk-in refrigerator and found the cook. He said even in his dead condition the man looked excessively happy, so he thinks the blue pills might be excellent.”

“Have you tried them?”

“No,” Raymond said. “I’m currently in an agitated state from many uppers. It would not be a good test of the happy pills if I tried them in my present condition.”

* * *

¦ ¦ ¦

We made it through lunch with fewer than normal complaints, and several diners took selfies with Lula and Hal.

“This is most interesting,” Raymond said. “We have become a theme deli. I have some black leather chaps in my closet for special occasions that I might wear tomorrow. They would be appropriate for the fry station because they only expose my butt cheeks. I would not be in jeopardy of getting splatter burns on my sensitive frontal private areas.”