Tricky Twenty-Two: A Stephanie Plum Novel by Janet Evanovich

Author:Janet Evanovich [Evanovich, Janet]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Humor & Satire, Humorous, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Women Sleuths, Romance, Romantic Comedy, General Humor, Mystery & Suspense
ISBN: 9780345542960
Amazon: B00TND3N7C
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2015-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

I KICKED MY shoes off when I walked into my apartment, and I left my wet clothes on the bathroom floor. I took a fast shower to wash the smell of funeral flowers out of my hair, and I dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. It was the moment of truth. I was going to bake a cake.

Rex was running on his wheel when I walked into the kitchen.

“I’m going to bake a cake,” I told him. “It’s going to be awesome.”

Rex stopped running for a moment, blinked his shiny black eyes at me, and went back to running. Not impressed.

I’d never seriously looked at my kitchen before, but it turns out I haven’t got a lot of counter space. I also haven’t got a mixer or a big bowl. I had a mixer when I first moved in but it got charred when my apartment was fire-bombed.

“No problem,” I said to Rex. “I’ll make my cake at my parents’ house.”

I packed my cake pans and all the cake ingredients into a shopping bag, laced up my sneakers, hung my messenger bag on my shoulder, and told Rex he was in charge of the apartment. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and it looked like the sun was trying to burn through. I parked in my parents’ driveway just as Mrs. Kulicki was dropping Grandma off from the wake.

“Too bad you couldn’t stay longer,” Grandma said to me. “Emily Root had too many highballs and started singing one of them Miley Cyrus songs and tried to hump the fire pole. She was doing pretty good, too, considering she’s so old.”

“I don’t think I know Emily Root.”

“She was wearing the purple dress. They bused her in from Senior Living. She had her teeth in her purse on account of they were giving her trouble.” Grandma looked at my shopping bag. “What have you got in there?”

“My cake stuff. I thought I’d make it here.”

“Good idea. There’s nothing better than smelling a cake baking in the house.”

Grandma went upstairs to get out of her wet clothes, and I went into the kitchen.

“I came over to bake a cake,” I told my mother.

My mother stopped chopping vegetables and made the sign of the cross. “Something’s wrong. You have breast cancer. You found a lump.”

“No!”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m fine. I just feel like making a cake.”

“Holy mother! Where did you get that bruise?”

“I walked into something.”

I unpacked my bag and set everything on the kitchen table. “I was going to make the cake at home but it turns out I don’t have a mixer. Or a bowl. So I brought everything here.”

“Maybe you should start with a box mix. I’ve got Duncan Hines in the pantry.”

“Nope. I’m making it from scratch. If this turns out I might go to school to be a pastry chef.”

My mother clapped her hand to her heart. “You got fired. The bonds office burned down again. Somebody finally killed Vinnie.”

“Everything is fine. I just got to thinking it might be fun to bake cakes.

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