Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(54)

“Get rid of the bike so you aren’t so easy to spot, and you can stay with me. I’m going to help you. I don’t know why. I’m not sure I even believe you.”

“It was our intimate moment when we were at Louise Kutka’s party in eighth grade,” Nutsy said. “We have a bond.”

“I’m helping you in spite of our intimate moment,” I said. “I have to go to the bail bonds office now. Try to keep a low profile and pick up when I call you.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN




Lula and Connie were finishing lunch when Bob and I walked in.

“We got all my problems solved,” Lula said. “Except for my clothes. I need to go to the mall and get some essentials.”

“Have you had lunch?” Connie asked me. “There’s some pasta salad in the fridge.”

I got the salad and pulled a chair up to Connie’s desk. “Have you been in touch with your neighbors?” I asked Lula. “Maybe one of them rescued your clothes.”

“I talked to all of them but crazy Becky. No one has my clothes. What’s new with you?”

“Not much. I ran into Nutsy. He was getting his stuff from Sissy’s house.”

“That’s too bad,” Lula said. “I was hoping he’d stay with Sissy. That would have been a better arrangement. He already had a bedroom in Sissy’s house. He kind of cramps my style when he’s living with us in your apartment.”

My heart stopped dead in my chest for a full thirty seconds. “Are you staying with me? I thought you and Connie solved all your problems.”

“We did,” Lula said. “Figuring out living arrangements until my apartment is fixed up was easy. I told Connie we’re like two peas in a pod in your apartment. There’s no reason to look any further. And by the way, what were you planning for dinner? Nutsy finished off your peanut butter. And I don’t think there’s any more bread or beer. Maybe a glass of wine would be nice for tonight. Personally, I like white because if you spill some it doesn’t leave a stain. We could celebrate being together. Just like sisters. Do you have cable? I have my favorite shows. Most of them we can stream but sometimes there’s something on cable.”

I finished the pasta salad and stood. “Gotta go. Things to do.”

“Me too,” Lula said. “What time is dinner?”

“There’s no dinner,” I said. “I don’t cook.”

“Yeah, but you defrost.”

“I don’t defrost,” I said. “Sometimes I toast. And frequently I dial. That’s as complicated as it gets.”

I have nothing against cooking. I have pots and pans. I watch cooking shows and I buy foodie magazines. I actually like food a lot. It’s just that I can’t get motivated to spend hours in the kitchen when the only other creature eating my food is a hamster. He’s happy with a grape. I suppose I could find joy in fixing dinner for Lula and Nutsy, but if I feed them real meals, they might want to stay longer. I like them, but not in my apartment.

“Okay,” Lula said, “I’ll be in charge of dinner. I’m excellent at dialing. Dinner is at six o’clock.”

Bob and I left the office and got into Ranger’s SUV. I settled myself behind the wheel, took a calming breath, and called Nutsy.

“Hey,” he said.

“Where are you?”

“I’m leaving Sissy’s house. I swapped out my bike for Duncan’s Kia Rio. Sissy’s okay driving my bike. She’s done it before.”

“Not perfect but good enough. Let’s find the homeless guy. Pick a meet spot.”

“The coffee shop on Broad and Twenty-Third Street.”

Nutsy was already there when Bob and I arrived. He was sitting at an outside table, and he was looking nervous. I left Bob with him, went inside to get a coffee, and returned to the table.

“You can relax,” I said to Nutsy. “Plover isn’t sniper material.”

“He might have hired someone,” Nutsy said. “A hit man.”

“Do you have reason to believe this?”

“It’s what happens on television.”

“Tell me about the homeless guy. What does he look like? Have you seen him since his friend was killed?”

“He was a little past middle-aged. Maybe late fifties. Hard to tell with homeless because they have hard lives, and they age. A white guy but weathered and tan. Sort of faded brown hair. Ponytail. Maybe five foot ten. Shorter than me. Medium build. He was usually in sneakers and baggy pants and a T-shirt and sweatshirt. Mostly clean-shaven.”

“That describes half the men in Trenton.”

“He had a spider tattoo on his hand. Both homeless guys had the spider tattoo.”

“That’s helpful.”

“They were always on the corner, outside the jewelry store, but I haven’t seen them since the one guy was shot.”

“Have you talked to anyone else in the area who might know them? Other panhandlers, crazies, drug dealers?”

“A hooker knew them as Marcus and Stump. Stump is the one who was killed. He was taller than Marcus and he had gray hair that looked like steel wool. Frizzy. She said they weren’t customers but she talked to them sometimes, and sometimes they showed up for the evening food truck.”