Stephanie Plum 08 - Hard Eight by Evanovich Janet

Author:Evanovich, Janet
Language: eng
Format: epub

9

I READ THROUGH Evelyn's file one more time when I got to my car. Some of the information seemed invasive, but this is the age of data for anyone interested. I had a credit report and some medical history. Nothing struck me as incredibly helpful.

A rap on my passenger-side window pulled me away from the file. It was Morelli. I unlocked the door, and he slid in next to me.

“Hung over?” he asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“How'd you know?”

He poked at the fast-food carton. “McDonald's french fries and Coke for breakfast. Dark circles under your eyes. Hair from hell.”

I checked out my hair in the rearview mirror. Yow. “I overdid the wine last night.”

He took that in. Nothing was said for a long moment. I didn't volunteer more. He didn't ask.

He looked at the file in my hand. “Are you getting any closer to Evelyn?”

“I've made some progress.”

“You heard about Soder's bar.”

“I just came from there,” I said. “It looked bad. Lucky no one was in the building.”

“Yeah, except so far we haven't been able to locate Soder. His girlfriend said he never came home.”

“Do you think he could have been in the bar when the fire broke out?”

“The guys are in there checking. They had to wait for the building to cool. No sign of him so far. I thought you'd want to know.” Morelli had his hand on the door handle. “I'll let you know if we find him.”

“Wait a minute. I have a theoretical question. Suppose you were watching television with me. And we were alone in my apartment. And I had a couple glasses of wine, and I sort of passed out. Would you try to make love to me, anyway? Would you do a little exploring while I was asleep?”

“What are we watching? Is it the play-offs?”

“You can leave now,” I said.

Morelli grinned and got out of the car.

I dialed Dotty's number on my cell phone. I was anxious to tell her the news about the bar and about Soder going missing. The phone rang a bunch of times and the machine picked it up. I left a message for a callback and tried her work number. I got her voice mail at work. Dotty was on vacation, scheduled to return in two weeks.

The voice mail message sent a strange emotion curling through my stomach. I searched for a name for the emotion. Unease was the closest I could come.

In less than an hour, I was parked in front of Dotty's house. No sign of Jeanne Ellen. And no sign of life in Dotty's house. No car in the driveway. No doors or windows opened. Nothing wrong with that, I told myself. The kids would be in school and day care at this time of day. And Dotty was probably out shopping.

I walked to the door and rang the bell. No one answered. I looked in the front window. The house looked at rest. No lights on. No television blaring.

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