Seven Up (A Stephanie Plum Novel) by Janet Evanovich

Author:Janet Evanovich [Evanovich, Janet]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780755388394
Publisher: Hachette Littlehampton
Published: 2011-10-26T23:00:00+00:00

Nine

Morelli’s pager went off at 5.30 a.m. Morelli looked at the readout and sighed. ‘Informer.’ I squinted into the darkness as he moved around the room. ‘Do you have to go?’

‘No. I just have to make a phone call.’

He walked into the living room. There was a moment of silence. And then he reappeared in the bedroom doorway. ‘Did you get up in the middle of the night and put the food away?’

‘No.’

‘There’s no food on the coffee table.’

Bob.

I dragged myself out of bed, shoved my arms into my robe and shuffled out to see the carnage.

‘I found a couple little wire handles,’ Morelli said. ‘Looks like Bob ate the food and the cartons.’

Bob was pacing at the door. His stomach was distended, and he was drooling.

Perfect. ‘You make your phone call and I’ll walk Bob,’ I told Morelli.

I ran back to the bedroom, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and rammed my feet into boots. I clipped the leash onto Bob and grabbed my car keys.

‘Car keys?’ Morelli asked.

‘In case I need a doughnut.’

Doughnut my foot. Bob was going to do a great big Chinese-food poop. And he was going to do it on Joyce’s lawn. Maybe I could even get him to hurl.

We took the elevator because I didn’t want Bob moving around any more than was necessary. We rushed to the car and roared out of the lot.

Bob had his nose pressed to the window. He was panting and belching. His stomach was swollen to bursting.

I had the gas pedal almost to the floor. ‘Hold on, big fella,’ I said. ‘We’re almost there. Not long now.’

I screeched to a stop in front of Joyce’s house. I ran around to the passenger side, opened the door, and Bob flew out. He rocketed to Joyce’s lawn, hunched over, and pooped what appeared to be twice his body weight. He paused for a second and horked up a mixture of cardboard box and shrimp chow mein.

‘Good boy!’ I whispered.

Bob gave himself a shake and bolted back to the car. I slammed the door after him, jumped in on my side and we took off before the stench could catch up with us. Another job well done.

Morelli was at the coffeemaker when I came in. ‘No doughnuts?’ he asked.

‘I forgot.’

‘I’ve never known you to forget doughnuts.’

‘I had other things on my mind.’

‘Like marriage?’

‘That, too.’

Morelli poured out two mugs of coffee and handed one to me. ‘Ever notice how marriage seems a lot more urgent at night than it does in the morning?’

‘Does that mean you no longer want to get married?’

Morelli leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. ‘You’re not getting off the hook that easy.’

‘There are lots of things we’ve never talked about.’

‘Such as?’

‘Children. Suppose we have children and it turns out we don’t like them?’

‘If we can like Bob, we can like anything,’ Morelli said.

Bob was in the living room licking lint off the carpet.

Eddie DeChooch called ten minutes after Morelli and Bob left for work.

‘What’s it gonna be?’ he asked.

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