Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(76)

“I have a miscellaneous FTA to clear off the books and I have a torched apartment to inspect.”



* * *




My apartment was at the top of the list. The fire trucks were gone, but puddles of sooty water remained in the parking lot. The exterior of the building around my bedroom window was stained with soot. The living room windows were intact. I hoped that was a good sign.

I left the parking lot and went into the small foyer. It smelled smoky but it looked okay. I bypassed the elevator and took the stairs. The second-floor hall was a little sooty and the carpet was water soaked. Do Not Enter crime scene tape had been stretched across my door. I removed the tape and stepped inside.

There was a lot of soot and water damage, but the kitchen and the dining room seemed untouched by the fire. The living room had some fire damage, and the bedroom was charred trash. I looked in at the bathroom.

“Damn,” I said to Bob. “It’s not fair. Every time my apartment gets firebombed, nothing happens to the bathroom. I hate this freaking bathroom.” I looked down at Bob. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that the fire marshal hasn’t been here yet, so I could set fire to the bathroom, and no one would be the wiser. Well, here’s the problem. The stuff I hate won’t burn. The medicine cabinet is metal and the toilet, sink, and tub are porcelain. And I’m pretty sure the gross wallpaper is washable and fire retardant, because it survived the last fire. I’m boned with the bathroom.”

I returned to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Nothing worth taking. Nutsy had eaten everything.

“Here’s the good part about the fire,” I said to Bob. “It got rid of Lula and Nutsy. I have my apartment back. Not that it matters because I can’t live in it the way it is.”

I left my apartment building and drove to the office. Lula’s car was parked at the curb, and I pulled in behind it.

“I bet you’ve been to your apartment,” Lula said. “You smell like cooked couch and Bob’s feet are wet.”

“It could be worse,” I said. “The kitchen and dining room are mostly okay. Water and smoke damage but salvageable. The bedroom is a complete loss.”

“How about your TV?” Lula asked.

“Melted.”

“Bummer. At least you can stay with your parents.” Lula sat up straighter on the couch. “Hold on! I saw that look just now. You aren’t staying with your parents.”

“What look?”

“You should never play poker,” Lula said.

“She’s right,” Connie said. “You can’t bluff.”

“Omigod,” Lula said. “You’ve been staying with Ranger.”

“Aunt Bitsy and Uncle Whatshisname are visiting with my parents.”

“This is big,” Lula said. “Does Morelli know?”

“There’s nothing to know,” I said.

Lula and Connie exchanged looks that were the equivalent of Are you kidding me?

“Moving on,” I said. “I thought I’d look for Henry Scargucci today. He’s the guy who hijacked an eighteen-wheeler loaded with electronics and tried to sell them to an undercover cop. Now he’s FTA.”

“I could help with that,” Lula said, “but I’d like to take a look at my apartment first. Julio said he would be there with some plans.”

I hiked my messenger bag higher onto my shoulder. “Not a problem.”

Julio’s truck was parked in front of Lula’s apartment house, and we found Julio inside Lula’s apartment.

“I have a drawing,” he said, “of what I can do. You have to use your imagination, but the little kitchen will be here, and we will make your closet smaller by relocating a wall that no longer exists, but your closet under my design will still hold as many clothes.”

“That’s okay,” Lula said, “because after the fire I don’t have a lot of clothes.”

“Yes, but you will,” Julio said. “I can see these things are important to you. You are a beautiful woman.”

“That’s true,” Lula said. “I appreciate that you recognize it.”

“We should have dinner sometime and we can talk about the design some more,” Julio said.

“Are you a single man?” Lula asked.

“Yes. I have never found just the right woman.”

“And you have your own place?”

“I have a little house.”

“I’m all about dinner,” Lula said. “I’m even free for tonight.”

“Bob and I are going to wait in the car,” I said to Lula. “I have some emails to catch up on.”

Lula came down a half hour later. “We got everything all straightened out,” she said. “He has good ideas and insurance is going to pay for some of it, and my landlord is going to pay for some of the improvements. And we’re going to discuss it at dinner tonight at his house. It turns out that he likes to cook. It’s a wonderful quality in a man. He said he learned to cook from his mama. Having his own house is another wonderful quality. Plus, he has an excellent tool belt. I noticed it contained a big hammer. It’s always a good sign when a man has a sizable hammer.”

I hadn’t noticed Julio’s hammer, but I felt like I was supposed to comment.