“This is so lame,” Zook said, dragging his feet. “I can't believe my mother tried to rob a stupid booze shack.”
I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't want to make out like armed robbery was okay, but at the same time, I didn't want to be gloom and doom. “Sometimes good people do dumb things,” I said. “If you hang in there with your mom, it'll all work out... eventually. Step back when I open the door, or Morelli's dog will knock you over.”
I unlocked the door, and there was a woof and the sound of dog feet galloping toward us from the kitchen. Bob appeared, ears flapping, tongue out, slobber flying in all directions. He hurtled past us
, leaped off the small porch, went straight to the nearest tree, and lifted his leg.
Zook went wide-eyed. “What kind of dog is he?”
“We're not sure, but we think he's mostly Golden Retriever. His name is Bob.”
Bob peed for what seemed like half an hour and trotted back into the house. I closed the door after him and checked the time. Four o'clock. Morelli's shift ended at four. It would take him thirty minutes to drive home. I had to be dressed and at the hotel by five. The hotel was thirty minutes from my apartment at this time of night. It wasn't going to work.
Zook looked around Morelli's living room. “Can I go wireless here?”
“I don't know. Morelli's computer is upstairs in his office, but I've seen him work down here as well.”
Zook pulled his laptop out of his backpack. “I'll figure it out.”
“That's great, because I have to go. Morelli should be home any minute now. I'm going to trust you to stay here and wait for him and not get into trouble.”
“Sure,” Zook said.
I called Morelli on his cell. “Where are you?”
“I just turned onto Hamilton.”
“We're at your house. Unfortunately, I have a job at five, and I have to go home first to change, so I'm going to leave Zook here alone for a few minutes.”
“Who's Zook?”
“You'll see. And just a suggestion, but you might want to put the Kojak light on the top of your car and step on the gas.”
Stephanie Plum 14 - Fearless Forteen
CHAPTER TWO
I live IN a one-bedroom, one-bath unit on the second floor of a no-frills, three-story, redbrick apartment building. There's a small lobby with a small unreliable elevator. The front entrance looks out on a busy street filled with small businesses. The rear exit backs up to a tenant parking lot. My bedroom and living room windows look out at the parking lot. Lucky me, because this is the quiet side, except at five a.m. on Mondays and Thursdays, when the Dumpster gets emptied. I share my apartment with a hamster named Rex.
I rocked to a stop in the lot, bolted from the car, bypassed the elevator, and took the stairs two at a time. I ran down the hall and rammed my key into my front door. I yelled hello to Rex on my way to the bedroom. No time for extended pleasantries.
Ten minutes later, I was out the door in black heels and my little black suit with a white tank top under the jacket. I'd spruced up my makeup and fluffed out my hair, and I'd dropped my Smith & Wesson into my purse. The gun wasn't loaded, and I didn't have time to hunt for bullets, but if I had to whack someone in the head with my purse, it was nicely weighted.
I took a call from Morelli while I unlocked my car.
“I just walked into my house, and the kid is wearing a black satin cape, he only answers to the name Zook, and he seems obsessed with someone named Moondog.”
“Order a pizza and go with it,” I told him.
I WAS FIVE minutes late when I pulled into hotel parking. This wouldn't be an issue if I was meeting anyone other than Ranger. Ranger has many good qualities. Patience isn't one of them.
I ran through the parking garage, slid to a stop when I got to the hotel lobby, adjusted my skirt, and crossed to where Ranger was standing. He was wearing black slacks, black blazer, and a black dress shirt with a black tie.
The black tie had a black stripe. If GQ ran an issue on contract killers, he'd make the cover.
“Nice,” I said to him.
“Playing the role,” Ranger said.