Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(35)

“Bob is standing in the kitchen looking hungry. How often do you feed him?”

“Twice a day and he gets a treat at bedtime.”

“That’s all?”

“How often have you been feeding him?” Morelli asked.

“It varies. I guess he eats when I eat.”

“Including the doughnuts?”

“Yeah. And then sometimes he eats other people’s food if they aren’t careful.”

“He’s lactose intolerant. Don’t let him eat cheese.”

“Does that include when it’s on pizza?”

“Oh man, did you feed him pizza?”

“We were staking out the Manley house and I didn’t have dog food with me.”

“He’ll be okay, but make sure you get him outside fast when he goes to the door.”



* * *




I was outside with Bob when I saw Ranger’s 911 roll into my building’s parking lot. It was the third time in an hour that I’d had to take Bob out and we were now sitting on the curb.

Ranger parked a few feet away and walked over to me. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“I didn’t know Bob was lactose intolerant and I fed him cheese. We’re waiting to see if he’s empty.”

“I’m on my way to a break-in and robbery in Hamilton Township, and I saw your Cherokee getting loaded onto Sanchez’s flatbed. What happened?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No,” Ranger said. “I see the Buick parked here. Do you want a loaner?”

“Yes. I can’t sneak around in the Buick.”

“I’ll have something dropped off.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN




I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled off to the bathroom. The sun was shining, and the day had started without me. I took a fast shower with the hopes of waking up. I got dressed in my usual uniform of T-shirt and jeans. I went to the bed and looked down at Bob. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t moving. It had been a long night for both of us. It had been after midnight when Bob made his final trek down to the parking lot.

“Time to get up,” I said. “We have things to do. You should have breakfast. You’ll feel better.”

Bob plodded after me, into the kitchen.

“Do you have to go out first?” I asked him.

Bob looked at the door and then he looked at me. He didn’t move.

“Okay then,” I said. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

I filled Bob’s bowl with dog kibble, and I stared into the refrigerator for a couple beats. Nothing jumped out at me, so I settled on a frozen waffle with peanut butter. When in doubt, there’s always peanut butter.

“I’m sorry about the cheese last night,” I said to Bob. “I didn’t know you were lactose intolerant.”

Bob gobbled his dog kibble and came to me for some ear scratches. Bob wasn’t the sort of dog who held a grudge. I gave Rex fresh water and filled his food cup with hamster food and a peanut. This concluded my duties as earth mother. I hooked Bob up to his leash and we went downstairs.

The Buick was gone and in its place was a shiny black Ford Explorer. It was a Rangeman fleet car. This wasn’t the first time Ranger had left a car for me, so I knew the drill. I reached under the right front wheel well and removed two keys. One for the car and one for the locked gun box under the driver’s seat. The note on the passenger seat told me that Big Blue had been returned to my parents’ garage. I got behind the wheel and texted a single word to Ranger. Thanks.

“This is going to be an excellent day,” I said to Bob. “My black eyes are turning green and orange, and my nose isn’t swollen anymore. In a couple days I’ll be as good as new. I have a nice car to drive, and I think I’m closing in on Nutsy and Duncan Dugan.”

When Bob and I walked into the office, Lula was on the couch with her iPad, Connie was at her desk, and Vinnie’s door was closed.

“Is he here?” I asked Connie.

“No,” she said. “He’s downtown, bailing someone out.”

I got coffee and returned to the desk.

“Your Jeep got picked up,” Connie said. “Sanchez emailed me last night. I printed it out for you.” She handed me the email. “Bottom line is that your frame is bent, there’s massive bodywork to be done, and the thing that was lying on the ground was critical to the performance of the car. He also said that the car smells like nothing he’s ever smelled before and doesn’t want to ever smell anything like that again. He said for a lot of money, he can fix everything but the smell. He’s suggesting you junk it.”

I stuffed the email into my messenger bag. “Tell him to junk it.”

“You don’t look unhappy about your car,” Lula said to me.

“I’m in a very good mood,” I said. “Every single traffic light was green for me this morning. And I didn’t get stuck behind a school bus. And I have a nice car to drive in place of my Jeep.”

Lula looked out the front window. “I’m thinking that’s a Rangeman car,” Lula said. “No wonder you’re in a good mood. Tell me you started your day taking care of business with Mr. Hot and Handsome.”