Sizzling Sixteen

by Janet Evanovich

  “It was the rib thing.”

  “Yeah,” Lula said. “I get like that about ribs, too. I think we need to go to Tony’s when we get back to town. He makes kick-ass ribs.”

  We sat there for ten minutes more, waiting for the SUV, but the SUV didn’t drive by.

  “I’m going to leave the car here and walk back to the house,” I told Lula.

  “I’ll come with you. Good thing I dressed down to sneakers today.”

  I checked Lula out. She was wearing pink wedge sneakers loaded up with rhinestones, a super-short stretch denim skirt, and a way-too-small pink T-shirt decorated with silver glitter that was flaking off on everything. It was casual Tuesday. I was in my usual outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a slightly stretchy V-neck T-shirt. No glitter. No red sauce stains.

  “Here’s the plan,” I said, starting out on the dirt road. “If we hear a car coming, we jump off the road and hide in the woods.”

  “Sure, I can do that,” Lula said. “Only I hope we don’t have to, ’cause I have vegetation issues. I don’t do the nature thing. Remember when we were down in the Pine Barrens? I hated that shit. I’m a city girl. I like cement. As far as I’m concerned, you could cement this whole country over.”

  “Maybe you want to stay in the Jeep,” I said.

  “That might be a good idea. I could stay and make sure it don’t get stolen.”

  The road was hard-packed dirt and either side was forested. The sun filtered through the leaf canopy and the air smelled like the beginning of summer. I would have enjoyed the walk if only I hadn’t been terrified Bobby Sunflower would return and run me down.

  I moved from the road to the woods just before I got within sight of the house. I’m not as bad as Lula when it comes to nature, but I’m not a tree nymph, either. I’ve seen Ranger move through brush and never make a sound. As hard as I try to be quiet, I’m more of a thrasher. I crept along the edge of the property, looking for movement inside the house. The SUV was still parked just past the door. Shades hadn’t been drawn. There was no way of knowing who belonged to the SUV. No way of knowing if Vinnie was here. I returned to the Jeep and pulled myself up behind the wheel.

  “Well?” Lula wanted to know.

  “I have no clue. I couldn’t see anything in the house. And no one came out.”

  “Are you carrying the bottle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hunh, you’d think the bottle would do something for you.”

  I turned the key and put the Jeep into gear. “I didn’t get caught.”

  “That’s true,” Lula said. “So it could be working.”

  IT WAS AFTER four o’clock when we got back to the bonds office. Connie was painting her nails and looking not happy.

  “So?” I said.

  “I got a call from Bobby Sunflower at two o’clock. He said he was getting impatient. And then he put Vinnie on, and Vinnie begged me to get the money, and then someone started shrieking. I guess that was Vinnie. And the line went dead.”

  “Bobby Sunflower was at the Pennsylvania house at two o’clock,” Lula said to me. “Now we know where they got Vinnie.”

  “His car was at the house,” I said. “We never actually saw Bobby Sunflower.”

  “That man isn’t gonna let nobody drive his Ferrari,” Lula said. “That’s a personal Ferrari.”

  Probably true.

  “They got Vinnie at this house in Pennsylvania,” Lula said to Connie. “We know exactly where it is. We just gotta rescue him now. My Visa bill is due any day. I can’t take no chances.”

  Here was the deal. While I was looking for Vinnie, this sounded like a noble idea. Now that we might have found him and had to go in guns blazing, I was thinking . . . not so good. Morelli could pull this off, but I couldn’t ask him without agreeing to police involvement. Ranger would have Vinnie out in a heartbeat, but Ranger was in Atlanta. And even if Ranger were here, it wouldn’t feel right to make him do my dirty work.

  “Maybe instead of rescuing Vinnie, we should try to raise the money,” I said.

  “Okay,” Connie said. “How?”

  We all thought about it.

  “We could have a bake sale,” Lula said.

  “You can’t bake, Stephanie can’t bake, and I don’t want to bake,” Connie said. “And we need $786,000. That’s a lot of cake. Plus, the interest grows on that every day.”

  “Now that I think about it,” Lula said, “if I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t need this job.”

  “The bonds office is now owned by a venture capital group called The Wellington Company. Last I looked, they weren’t happy with the office performance. I don’t think we want to rock that boat by asking them for a loan.”

  “Let’s just rescue him and get it over with,” Lula said. “How hard could it be? There was one SUV sitting in the driveway. So I’m thinking there’s Vinnie tied to a chair in the kitchen and some goon in the living room watching TV.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And we go in, shoot the goon, rescue Vinnie, and we go home.”

  “I’m not comfortable with shooting the goon,” I told her. “And we aren’t a hundred percent sure Vinnie is in the house.”

  “I know,” Connie said. “Stink bomb. We lob a stink bomb in there, everyone runs out, and in the confusion we rescue Vinnie.”

  “I like it,” Lula said to Connie. “Boy, you’re good. I could see you’ve done this before.”

  “High school,” Connie said. “I was the stink bomb queen. One time, I stink-bombed the principal’s house and he blamed it on Jimmy Rubinowski.”

  “What happened to Jimmy Rubinowski?” Lula wanted to know.

  “Nothing. He was a football player. He was golden.”

  “Is this stink bomb going to damage the house?” I asked.

  “No,” Connie said. “It takes a couple days for the smell to go away, but then everything’s good. Except for the window you broke getting the bomb into the house.”

  “I hate to be a wet blanket, but I don’t like doing this without making sure Vinnie’s in the house,” I said.

  Lula and I broke a few minor laws from time to time in the pursuit of felons, but for the most part, we had paperwork giving us wide authority for search and capture. We all knew Bobby Sunflower was pond scum, but that didn’t give me the right to lob a stink bomb through his window.

  “This isn’t a whim,” Lula said. “There’s circumstantial evidence. And anyway, this here’s Bobby Sunflower we’re talking about. He probably gets stink-bombed all the time.”

  “How about this,” Connie said. “I go home and whip up a stink bomb. And then we go back to the house at night so we can creep around better and look in windows. And then if it looks like Vinnie’s in the house, we bazooka the bomb in.”

  “I guess that’s okay,” I said. “Unless Sunflower has family in the house.”

  “Sunflower hasn’t got family,” Lula said. “Only thing he’d have in the house is armed entourage and maybe a ’ho or two.”

  “The sun goes down around eight-thirty,” Connie said. “So let’s meet here at the office at eight-fifteen. And everyone wear black.”

  “Black’s not my best color,” Lula said.

  NINE

  I LEFT THE bonds office, drove to Quakerbridge Mall, and went straight to the food court. I had a photo of Chopper, and I’d become pretty good at spotting drug dealers. Not to mention I had the lucky bottle. So maybe with all those things going for me, I could snag Chopper. I got a cheeseburger and a vanilla shake, and I sat at a table that would allow me to see almost the entire food court area.

  According to the photo and file description, Chopper was a Hispanic male, 5′9″ tall, medium build, no piercings or tattoos. A smashed right hand. Forty-five years old. One eyebrow.

  I finished my burger and shake, and I sat for a while, trying to look like I was waiting for someone. I got up and walked around a little. I bought a chocolate chip cookie. I sat at a different table. I did another tour of the food cour
t. I walked beyond the food court and looked around. No Chopper. I bought an ice cream cone, and I sat and ate it. Still no Chopper. By seven o’clock I’d had enough of the food court, so I went home and changed into black commando gear. Black jeans, black T-shirt, black sweatshirt.

  Lula and Connie were already at the office when I pulled in. Connie was dressed just like me. Lula looked like an ad for S&M clothes for plus-size women. Black leather boots up to her thighs, black stretch skirt that hung two inches below her ass, black Spandex wrap shirt.

  “I got my gun, my stun gun, my pepper spray, my flashlight,” Lula said. “And then I got my other gun and a bread knife.”

  “I have an Uzi and the stink bombs,” Connie said.

  They looked at me.

  I had hairspray and a nail file, but it didn’t stack up next to guns and stink bombs. “I have the lucky bottle,” I told them.

  “Now you’re talking,” Lula said.

  Connie grabbed her purse, and we followed her out of the office.

  “I’ve got my brother Tony’s car,” Connie said. “It’s a P.O.S. Explorer, and no one will pay any attention to it sitting on the side of the road.”

  Lula got in front with Connie, and I got in back with the box of stink bombs. The adapted for stink bombs rocket launcher was behind me. It was deep dusk when we drove over the bridge to Pennsylvania, and by the time we reached the dirt road, it was black as pitch out. No moon. Overcast sky. Connie pulled off to the shoulder and parked on Lower Buck’s Road just before our turn-off. We all piled out and waited while Connie loaded the rocket launcher up with a stink bomb.

  “It’s a big house,” Lula said. “How many of these bombs do you think we gotta fire off?”

  “One will probably do it,” Connie said, slinging the Uzi strap over her shoulder. “But we could do an upstairs and a downstairs if we want to be sure of covering the whole house.”

  “What’s it smell like?”

  “The one I made today smells like a combination of cat pee and diarrhea fart,” Connie said, handing me the box with the extra bombs. “And maybe it has a hint of throw-up.”

  We walked about twenty feet down the road and had no idea where we were.

  “I don’t know if I’m in the middle of the road or the middle of the forest,” Lula said. “I can’t see nothin’. There’s no light here. There’s . . . whoops!”

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not okay. I’m on my ass, and I found the edge of the road on account of I’m in a bush. Where the heck are you?”

  “Everyone stay still until our eyes adjust,” I said.

  “How long’s that take?” Lula wanted to know.

  “A couple minutes, I think,” I told her.

  “It’s been a couple minutes,” Lula said, “and I’m not adjusted. I think that adjusting is a lot of hooey.”

  “Give it a minute more,” I said.

  We waited a minute more, but we still couldn’t see.

  “I’ll show you adjusting,” Lula said. And she flipped her flashlight on.

  So much for the stealth approach.

  We followed Lula and her flashlight until we reached the grassy area around the house. Once we were out from under trees, we were at least able to differentiate structure from sky. Light blazed from several windows. A television flickered in a downstairs room. A figure moved from one room to the next. The SUV was still parked by the door.

  “We need to get closer,” Connie said. “Someone should run across the lawn and look in the windows.”

  “Someone?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Connie said. “You.”

  “Why me?”

  “It’s your job. I’m the office person, and you’re the sneaking around, chasing down bad guys person.”

  “What about Lula? Why can’t Lula be the sneaking around person?”

  “Yeah,” Lula said, “what about me? I could sneak your ass off.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Connie said to Lula. “You’re the one wants to get thrown under the bus.”

  “Since you put it that way, it occurs to me Stephanie has the skill sets needed for this operation,” Lula said.

  I did an eye roll that no one could see, because it was too friggin’ dark. I set the box of stink bombs on the ground, laid my purse on it, and I jogged across the lawn to the house. I pushed my way into some big azalea bushes and stood on tiptoe to look in the window. A fifty-something guy was sitting on the couch watching television. He was in his socks, kicked back, with a bag of chips and a beer on the coffee table in front of him. A second guy was slouched in a La-Z-Boy type chair.

  I struggled to get out of the azaleas, and I moved around the house, peeking in windows, listening for conversation. I got to the kitchen, and there was a tray on the kitchen counter with some dirty dishes and a can of Coke tipped on its side. There were also a couple dishes, some silverware, and two glasses on the counter by the sink. It could be that someone was served on a tray and two people ate in the kitchen. Not conclusive proof Vinnie was being held in the house, but it was worth considering.

  I jogged back to the woods and told Connie and Lula what I’d found.

  “I say we rocket a bomb in there and see what comes out,” Lula said.

  “Suppose only the guys watching television come out?” I said. “Is someone going in to make sure Vinnie isn’t there?”

  “That would be you again,” Lula said, “since you’re so good at finding people.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “No, no, no. I already did my thing. Someone else’s turn. I’m not going into a house that smells like cat pee and diarrhea fart.”

  “I’d be happy to do it, but I got asthma,” Lula said. “I might have an attack in there. It could kill me.”

  We were standing at the edge of the woods arguing, and headlights appeared on the dirt road. The car was traveling at a good speed, coming in from Lower Buck’s Road, almost on top of us before we saw it. We dove for cover, flat on our stomachs, hidden in shadow. The car roared into the circular driveway, stopped in front of the brown-shingle house, and Bang—fired off an object that broke the foyer window. Bang—another shot fired at an upstairs window, and the car spun its wheels and careened out of the driveway, back toward the road. It was a dark-colored SUV. I couldn’t see the plate or the make. We got to our feet and stood in shock for a moment.

  “What the heck was that about?” Lula wanted to know.

  In a moment, we knew what it was about, because the inside of the house was engulfed in flames, and smoke billowed out the broken foyer window.

  “Fire bomb,” Connie said.

  We ran to the house to make sure everyone got out, and just as we reached the house, three men ran from the opposite side, jumped into the SUV, and took off. Hard to tell in the dark if one of them was Vinnie, it all happened so fast. There was a small explosion from somewhere inside, windows blew out, and flames shot out the windows and licked up the side of the house.

  “We need to get out of here,” Connie said. “We need to get to the car before the police and the fire trucks show up. The police will wonder why a car’s parked there.”

  I grabbed my purse and the box of stink bombs, and we hustled down the road, with Lula in the lead holding her flashlight.

  “Boy, Bobby Sunflower is a really unpopular person,” Lula said. “You gotta get in line to bomb his house.”

  We were walking fast. I was sweating holding the box of stink bombs, and I could hear Lula breathing hard in front of me. We were almost to Lower Buck’s Road when we heard the sirens.

  “Crap,” Connie said. “How did they get here so fast?”

  I hiked my bag farther up on my shoulder. “I’m sure the house had a security system, and fire always goes directly to police and the fire department.”

  A police car was the first on the scene. It turned onto the dirt road, and we jumped into the woods. A second car was close behind, but it stopped on Lower Buck’s Road, behind Connie’s SUV.
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  “I’m screwed,” Connie said.

  The cop sat in his car for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the driver’s door opened, and the cop got out and walked to Connie’s car. A beam of light swept over the SUV. We held our breath and didn’t move. A fire truck chugged past and turned onto the dirt road. It was followed by an EMT truck. The cop returned to his car, pulled onto the road, and turned into the dirt road.

  Connie called the Trenton police and reported her brother’s car stolen.

  “I parked it at Quakerbridge Mall,” she said. “And I just came out of Macy’s, and it’s not here.”

  She gave all the necessary information and said she had a ride coming and needed to get home.

  “That was quick thinking,” Lula said. “It wouldn’t be good if Bobby Sunflower found out we were parked here. He’d think we were the fire bombers. The police probably would think that, too.”

  “Unfortunately, we can’t use the car to get home,” Connie said. “We’re going to have to leave it here.”

  “I bet your brother’s gonna be pissed,” Lula said.

  Connie shrugged. “He’ll understand.”

  Connie’s family took crime in stride. It was a family activity.

  “So how we gonna get home?” Lula wanted to know. “It’s getting late, and I got television shows I want to watch.”

  “My brother Tony would pick us up but his car’s on the side of the road,” Connie said.

  “I got no one,” Lula said. “I don’t got a special someone in my life right now.”

  I shoved my hand into my pocket and came up with Mooner’s card.

  ______

  THE RV CREAKED to a stop behind Connie’s SUV and Mooner leaned out the driver’s side window. “Have no fear, Mooner’s here,” he said.

  “What the heck is this?” Lula said, taking in the hand-painted peace signs, swirly wind, and stars symbols on the side of the bus.

  “It’s a motor home,” Mooner said. “It’s a quality recreational vehicle.”

  Connie sniffed the air drifting out the open window. “It smells like dog.”

  “Yep,” Mooner said. “And it comes by it honest.”

  We scrambled inside and looked for a place to sit. The walls were covered in velvet-like leopard-print fabric. The couches and chairs were upholstered in fuzzy faux zebra. The tabletop and kitchen counter were red Formica. Even in the dark of night, it was a migraine.