Between the Plums by Janet Evanovich

Author:Janet Evanovich
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781429986304
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

10

My phone rang while I sat in my car watching Diesel drive away.

“Hey, cupcake,” Morelli said. “Just checking in. Anything I need to know?”

“Speak of the devil. I was just going to call you. I have some information to share. Vinnie bonded out a woman named Annie Hart. She supposedly robbed a pawnshop and shot the owner in the foot.”

“I remember that,” Morelli said. “The pawnshop owner is a little weasel named Stanley Cramp.”

“Yeah. Turns out Cramp faked the robbery and shot himself in the foot. The gun and the necklace are in a crawl space under the back room. I can give you more details later, but you should get someone over there before Cramp decides to get rid of the evidence.”

“I’ll call it in. How’s everything else?”

“It’s really slow at the bonds office. Only one big outstanding . . . and that was Annie Hart. Bob is good. He’s visiting with my parents today. Diesel’s in town.”

“Diesel?”

“Yeah, you remember Diesel, right?”

“Ranger’s half-brother.”

“He’s not Ranger’s half-brother.”

“He might as well be. They both run in the fast lane with their lights off.”

“You used to do that.”

“No. I was an asshole. I never actually thought I was Batman.”

“I see your point.”

“I’m locked away in a sleazoid motel, doing my cop thing. Do I need to come home?”

“Nope. I’ve got it all under control.”

“Good to know,” Morelli said. “I should have this wrapped up Tuesday or Wednesday. See you then.” And he disconnected.

I cut down to Klockner Boulevard and then to Hamilton and left-turned into the Burg. I eased to a stop in front of my parents’ house and killed the engine. Grandma was at the storm door, looking out at me, driven there by some mysterious inner radar that tells her when a granddaughter is approaching. Not that different from Diesel, when you think about it.

“Just in time,” Grandma said to me, holding the door open. “Your sister is here, and we got a nice coffee cake from the bakery.”

Bob heard my voice and came thundering down the hall, ears flopping, tongue out, google-eyed. He slid on the polished wood floor and plowed into me, knocking me into the wall.

I scratched his head and gave him a hug, and he galloped back to the kitchen and the coffee cake.

“He’s been such a good boy,” Grandma said. “It makes a house feel like a home when you got a dog in it. And he didn’t hardly eat anything this time. The TV Guide and a loaf of bread, but the good thing was he horked up the plastic wrap.”

Valerie was at the little kitchen table. She had the baby on her lap and coffee in front of her.

“Where are the girls?” I asked.

“Playgroup,” Valerie said. “They go every day now.”

I sliced off a chunk of coffee cake and out of habit I stood at the sink to eat.

My mother put a plate and fork and napkin on the table. “Sit,” she said. “It’s not good for your digestion to eat at the sink.

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