Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(73)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE




I dropped Grandma off and drove to my apartment to check on Lula and Nutsy.

“How’s it going?” I asked Lula.

“It’s good,” Lula said. “Nutsy got an Xbox, and he’s downloaded some awesome stuff.”

“Have you heard from Duncan?” I asked Nutsy.

“Yeah. He called me today. He’s up and walking a little.”

My phone rang. Diggery.

“I got a good one,” Diggery said. “It’s a male and he hasn’t been in the ground all that long. He was buried wearing a cross necklace and he has a knife but no fork or spoon. Even Snacker thinks this one has some potential.”

“Shoes?”

“Somebody took his shoes.”

I couldn’t imagine Plover taking Stump’s shoes.

“I’ll take a look,” I said. “Where are you?”

“Willow Street Cemetery. It’s not real big so you should be able to find us. You can’t drive in at this time of the night. They got the gates closed. You have to park on the street. Give me an owl call when you get here, and I’ll call back.”

“Okey dokey,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

“What was that about?” Lula asked.

“Diggery has a body for us to look at.”

“Who do you mean by us? Am I included in the us? Because you know how I feel about bodies when they’re dead. Is this one dead?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t suppose it’s in the parking lot to a mall.”

“It’s in a cemetery.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“You don’t have to go with me,” I said. “Nutsy can go with me. He needs to identify it anyway.”

“He’s not a trained protective agent like me,” Lula said. “He probably wouldn’t even know what to do if zombies attacked.”

“Cold water? Silver bullet? A stake in the heart?” Nutsy said.

“See? He don’t know anything about zombies,” Lula said. “You need a machete. You need to dismantle the brain.”

“Do you have a machete?” I asked Lula.

“No,” she said. “I got a nail file, and we could take one of your steak knives.”

“I don’t have any steak knives,” I said.

“Then I guess we could take a table knife. We might be okay if it’s a small zombie.”

“Diggery is waiting,” I said. “Let’s roll.”



* * *




Willow Street Cemetery is attached to a small white Presbyterian church with a classic steeple. It’s on the fringe of the downtown area, and it’s surrounded by nicely maintained modest homes. Lights were on in most of the houses. The church was clearly visible against the dark night. The cemetery was pitch-black. I parked on Willow Street, near the cemetery gate, and we walked into the cemetery.

“Hooty hoooo,” I said.

“Hooo. Hooo,” came back at me.

There wasn’t much moon, and it was difficult to follow the unlit path. Mostly I could feel when I stepped off the cement onto grass.

“Hooo hooo.”

“That better be Diggery hoooing at us,” Lula said.

My thoughts precisely. I’d used up all my adrenaline and bravado at the funeral home. I was running on empty, and I was every bit as freaked out as Lula.

The cement path ended, and we stopped walking. A hooo hooo called to us from the left. I flashed my penlight and caught sight of Diggery and Snacker standing about fifty feet away, next to a large headstone. I doused the penlight and cautiously made my way across the grass.

I had Bob on a short leash. I didn’t know what was in front of us. In case there was more decomposition than Diggery had suggested, I didn’t want Bob to get carried away and make off with a thigh bone.

“I’m gonna wait back here,” Lula said. “It’s not like I knew the deceased or something. I don’t want to intrude on his current resting place.”

“Good decision,” I said.

Nutsy stepped forward. “I guess I’m needed here.”

I looked at Diggery. “Light it up.”

Diggery hit the grave site with his wide-angle Maglite.

“As you can see,” Diggery said, “he’s got on a cross necklace. And there’s a knife lying next to him that I’m thinking fell out of his pocket when they dumped him into the ground. And there’s a clump of gray hair clinging to his skull. Snacker and me think we have a winner here.”

“It’s the wrong cross,” Nutsy said. “That’s not at all how Marcus described it. And there’s not much left of this dead guy but there’s still a lot of his clothes, and it looks like he’s wearing a suit and a tie.”

“Yeah, but he’s got a bunch of bullet holes in him,” Diggery said. “We thought that counted for something.”

Nutsy shook his head. “I don’t think this is Stump.”

“Bummer,” Diggery said. “That’s a big disappointment.”

“It was a good try,” I said to Diggery. “You’re definitely getting closer. Keep looking. I’m sure you’ll find him.”