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Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(49)

Author:Janet Evanovich

“There’s no Grendel,” I said, stepping into the apartment. “I’m right here.”

“Well, what was all the noise last night?” Lula asked.

“It was you,” I said. “You snore.”

“I definitely don’t snore,” Lula said. “Sometimes I might breathe heavy if I’m dreaming. And anyways I heard growling and snorting.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said. “It was you. It was horrible. And Nutsy isn’t much better. Bob and I slept in the hall.”

“Your problem is that you’ve got sensitive ears,” Lula said.

I filled Bob’s bowl with kibble and went to the fridge. No orange juice. No milk. No food. I looked in the freezer. No more ice cream.

“Somebody ate all the food,” I said. “I’m done. I’m moving out. You guys are on your own. I love you both, but I can’t live with you.”

“I guess I understand that,” Lula said. “It’s hard when you’re accustomed to being by yourself and then there’s someone else. I’m one of those flexible people. New circumstances don’t bother me.”

I shuffled off to the bedroom and stuffed some clothes into a duffel bag. When I got back to the kitchen Bob was done eating, so I took his bag of food and told Nutsy to take Rex’s aquarium downstairs and put it into the Explorer. I added my computer to the duffel bag and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Lula asked.

“My parents’ house,” I said.

“Good plan,” Lula said. “You’ll probably get there in time for breakfast. And I’m thinking your mom will do your laundry and everything. And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of our apartment. I’ll keep beautifying it too. I got a knack for interior decorations.”

“Am I getting kicked out?” Nutsy said.

“No, but I’m not buying your food anymore,” I told him.

“I can deal with that,” he said, following me to the elevator.

Bob and I drove to my parents’ house, and there was a white Subaru SUV parked in the driveway. I idled at the curb and called my mom.

“Hi,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going good,” she said. “Your aunt Bitsy and uncle Fred arrived last night. They’re staying with us for a couple nights, and then we’re all going to your cousin Loretta’s wedding. You sent in your reply, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t remember. I might have checked off not attending.”

“You and Loretta were never close,” my mom said, “but you really should be going to her wedding.”

“Why are Bitsy and Whatshisname staying with you?”

“Loretta shares an apartment with two other girls. They’re all nurses, and there wasn’t room for Bitsy and Fred.”

“I thought Bitsy and Fred lived in Mercerville.”

“They moved to Florida when Loretta graduated nursing school.”

I hung up and looked at Bob. “Guess where we’re going.”

Bob knew where we were going, and he was happy about it. Ranger’s apartment was always a nice cool temperature, and Bob’s water bowl was always filled with sparkling fresh water.

I called Ranger when I turned onto his street. “Is it okay if Bob and Rex and I move in for a couple days?”

“Did you bring pajamas?”

“I’m wearing pajamas.”

“Babe,” Ranger said.

The gate to the Rangeman garage opened before I inserted my key card. I parked in one of Ranger’s spaces by the elevator, and I was struggling with my duffel bag and Rex’s aquarium when Hal appeared and took the duffel and the aquarium from me. I followed behind him with the bag of Bob food and Bob.

“Ranger is in a meeting,” Hal said. “He said you should make yourself at home, and Ella will bring breakfast.”

I stashed Bob’s food in a corner and positioned Rex’s aquarium on a kitchen counter. I gave Rex fresh water, and Ella rang the bell once and walked in with the breakfast tray.

“This was a bit of a rush,” Ella said. “I’m afraid there aren’t any pastries. There’s just the usual assortment of granola and fruit and bagels and sides. There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice in Ranger’s fridge, plus milk and cream. Tomorrow I’ll make pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream. I never get a chance to make pancakes.”

Ella left and I made myself coffee in Ranger’s fancy built-in coffee machine. I pulled a stool up to the kitchen counter and buttered a bagel.

“This is nice,” I said to Bob. “It’s quiet.”

I was on my second cup of coffee when Ranger walked in and helped himself to smoked salmon and a bagel.

“What’s your plan for the day?” he asked.

“I haven’t got much of a plan right now. I didn’t get a lot of sleep, and my brain isn’t working at top speed.” I squinted at his face. “Why don’t you have black eyes? I got hit in the nose and I looked like I got run over by a truck.”

“I’m a fast healer,” Ranger said. “I got the report on the jewelry. The gemstones are all very good fakes. And that means the diamonds Plover accused Andrew of stealing were probably also fakes.”

“So, Plover has been selling fakes and charging real prices.”

“It looks that way. We were able to access his insurance policy, and there’s a large discrepancy between the value of what was stolen and what was insured. He’s insured for the full value of real gemstones. As far as we know, Plover hasn’t officially submitted a claim with his insurance company.”

“He needs to get the fakes back first.”

“Yes. He’s in an awkward situation. He raises suspicion if he doesn’t file a claim. If he files a claim for full value of the insured, he runs the risk of the fakes turning up. Then he’s committed insurance fraud. If he files a claim for the value of the fakes and it goes public, he could be sued by half the population of Trenton.”

“Should we just turn the fakes over to the police?”

“That would be a waste,” Ranger said. “Technically, Plover hasn’t committed a crime. He hasn’t given his insurers a dollar value on his stolen merchandise, and none of his customers have come forward with a complaint for past purchases.”

“I know a number of people who’ve bought jewelry from Plover. I could stir the pot a little.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to put some added pressure on him.”

“He inherited the store from his father and his grandfather. Every girl in my high school wanted a Plover engagement ring. People trusted Plover. How could this happen?”

Ranger shrugged. “People make bad decisions. And people aren’t always what they seem. Maybe Plover needed money, and he cheated a little, and then he got swept up in it. And now it’s spiraled out of control. It appears that he firebombed a car and he shot and killed an unarmed man, so either he’s a hardened career criminal or else he’s desperate and willing to do anything to cover his tracks. My guess is that he’s desperate.”

I selected a strawberry from the fruit plate. “The homicide is a biggie, but we only have the word of Nutsy and a homeless guy living in a crack house.”

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