Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum 25)

“Were you able to find out who owned the security cameras?”

“They were placed after the unit was rented. We couldn’t trace them. We shut them down but left them in place, so Ranger could send his tech over to take a look. His guy is

better than my guy.”

* * *

¦ ¦ ¦

Big Wanger, Anthony, and Mooch were lined up on the couch, eyes glued to the television. Morelli was in the leather recliner. Bob was sitting next to Morelli, waiting for food to fall onto the floor. The coffee table was littered with takeout pizza boxes, empty beer cans, bowls of chips, and whatever.

“Do you want to sit?” Mooch asked me. “There’s room on the couch.”

“No, thanks,” I said. “I just came in to gather up some of the trash. I don’t want to encroach on your male-bonding experience.”

“That happened in seventh grade,” Big Wanger said. “We just tolerate each other now.”

I put a bunch of empty beer cans in one of the empty pizza boxes and carted it all out to the kitchen. I stopped short at the kitchen door when I realized Wulf was lounging against the counter. He was wearing black slacks and a black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up. No visible bat wings.

“We need to talk,” Wulf said.

“Okay.”

“As a courtesy to a friend, I’m looking for a man who is associated with the deli. I believe he’s also involved in the kidnappings.”

“Ernie Sitz? Harry the Hammer?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m telling you this because I want you to persuade Ranger to remove his men from their surveillance positions. They’re making my job difficult.”

“You should talk to Ranger directly.”

Wulf’s mouth curved into a smile, but his eyes were cold. “Ranger and I have an adversarial history.”

“I’ll pass the message along, but I can’t guarantee he’ll listen to me.”

“Understood.”

“What were you doing in the apartment above the KitKat?”

“Tracking my prey.”

“You left through the window,” I said.

“There were people in the hall, fumbling for their apartment key. It seemed expedient to exit directly to the alley.”

“The shoes?”

“The shoes are a mystery,” Wulf said. He looked toward the living room. “I have to leave.”

“Are you going to do the smoke thing?”

This time the smile was genuine. “Would you like me to do the smoke thing?”

“Yes.”

BANG! Smoke swirled around Wulf, and he was gone.

* * *