Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(32)

“It got punched by the FTA’s girlfriend.”

“That sucks,” Grandma said. “Are you sure you don’t want a whiskeytini?”

“It’s tempting, but no. Things to do. Places to go. People to see.”

“Anybody I know?”

“I’m still looking for Nutsy.”

“I heard his parents’ car got blown up,” Grandma said. “I can’t imagine who would do such a thing to the Manleys.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Grandma sipped her whiskeytini and smiled. “I suppose I’ve got one or two.”

“Me too,” I said. “You go first.”

“I think it has to do with Nutsy. It looked like Nutsy had settled into his job with Plover. He was living at home. He wasn’t doing anything nuts. And then there’s this robbery. And he’s accused of stealing a tray of diamonds after the robbery. And then he disappears, but he’s still in the area because people see him from time to time. Just glimpses of him. Like he’s in hiding. So, there’s something going on here, but the diamond robbery doesn’t fit. I can’t see it going down like that with Nutsy. I could see him taking something on a dare, but everyone would know about it. And he’d give it back.”

I nodded. “My exact thoughts,” I said to Grandma.

“There was some talk about the robbery and all in the beginning,” Grandma said, “but it got old pretty fast. Nutsy’s stunts aren’t exactly news anymore. Now all of a sudden, his parents’ car gets blown up. Now it’s getting interesting again.”

“Do you think someone thought it was Nutsy’s car?”

“Not for a second,” Grandma said. “Everybody knows Nutsy has a motorcycle. I think this was a warning. I think you’re not the only one after Nutsy. Someone’s trying to flush him out.”

“Who?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” Grandma said. “Who do you think?”

“I don’t know who it is, either. Maybe someone who thinks he’s got the tray of stolen diamonds.”

“Plover?” Grandma asked.

“I guess that’s one possibility, but I can’t see him skulking around under cover of darkness, planting a bomb.”

“He could have hired someone.”

“Or there could be undiscovered people involved.”

“I suppose you want me to help you unravel this mystery,” Grandma said.

“Keep your ear to the ground,” I told her.





CHAPTER TEN




Bob and I rumbled out of my parents’ garage in the Buick. I drove past Morelli’s house to make sure it hadn’t burned down. I drove past the Manley house to make sure Nutsy’s Yamaha SR400 wasn’t in the driveway. I drove past the office to see if the Jeep had been picked up. Morelli’s house looked fine. No motorcycle in the Manley driveway. My Jeep was still in front of the bail bonds office.

“I have a problem,” I said to Bob. “It’s meat loaf night at the Manleys’, and I’d like to hang out to see if Nutsy shows up. Rule number one on a stakeout is to be inconspicuous, and a ’53 powder-blue-and-white Buick isn’t inconspicuous. Lula’s fire-engine-red Firebird isn’t inconspicuous either. I could borrow a car from Ranger but that could get complicated.”

Bob looked like he was paying attention, but since he couldn’t speak human, he wasn’t able to make a contribution. I turned back into the Burg and drove to my parents’ house. My mother was home from shopping and her car was parked in the driveway. It was a very inconspicuous silver Camry.

“All I have to do is talk her into letting me borrow the Camry,” I said to Bob. “Easy, right?”

Bob’s mind was elsewhere. He was looking at the house with big bright eyes, remembering hugs and dog treats. I parked at the curb and kept a tight grip on Bob’s leash in case he remembered the treats with too much enthusiasm. Grandma was in the kitchen with my mom when Bob and I walked in.

“Back so soon?” Grandma asked. “We’re deciding on dinner. We don’t have to make such a big deal out of it with your father in AC. We were thinking we might get takeout.”

“You and Bob are welcome to have takeout with us,” my mom said. “Or we could heat up some leftover pot roast and gravy.”

“I’m going to pass on dinner. I need to be someplace at five thirty. I was hoping I could borrow the Camry for an hour or two.”

“Your grandmother said you came for the Buick,” my mom said. “Is there something wrong with it? It hasn’t been serviced in ages.”

“The Buick is fine, but I need a car that blends in. I’m still looking for Nutsy, and I think he might show up at his parents’ house for dinner tonight. The Buick is too recognizable. He might spot it and get scared away.”

“Good thinking,” Grandma said. “Do you have inside information that he’s going to be sneaking home?”

“I talked to his mother, and she said that she’s making his favorite meal tonight. Meat loaf.”

“That’s worth a stakeout,” Grandma said. “And it works out perfect. We can pick up some pizza at Pino’s and head for the Manleys’. We should wear hoodies, so no one recognizes us. This is going to be good. I don’t even care if I miss Jeopardy!”