Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(40)

“We brought your teddy bear,” Lula said.

“Mr. Bumbum!” Melvin said. “He’s my best friend. I tell him everything.”

Grandma set a platter of sandwiches on the table. “We got egg salad, ham and cheese, roast beef with horseradish, and chicken salad,” she said.

My mom set plates and napkins out. “Help yourself,” she said. “We have more in the kitchen.”

I took an egg salad sandwich and Morelli called.

“I got three hits on my query about murders involving tongue mutilation,” he said. “A nineteen-year-old male in North Dakota, a thirty-two-year-old male in Connecticut, and a thirty-six-year-old male in North Carolina. In each case computer equipment was missing and the crime was written off as a homicide committed during a burglary.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Morelli said. “That was my reaction, too. How’s it going on your end?”

“Nothing I can talk about right now, but it’s good.”

“Understood.”

“What about you?” I asked Morelli. “Are you making any progress with Stupin and the other hacker?”

“Gerard Gouge,” Morelli said. “Nothing I can talk about right now, but it’s going sucky.”

“Understood,” I said.

I finished my sandwich and took my plate to the kitchen. My mom was at the table, knitting.

“That looks great,” I said. “What are you making?”

“A scarf,” she said. “I started it last night.”

“She’s been working on it all morning,” Grandma said. “At this rate we’re going to have to go out and get more yarn.”

“I have to get back to work,” I said. “If you go shopping for yarn, leave Melvin at home. I don’t want him seen out of the house.”





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Mary Jane Merkle lived in a small two-story house positioned on a small lot in the middle of the block. The house was bookended by two driveways that led to single-car garages. One of those garages belonged to Mary Jane. I parked in front of her house, and Lula and I went to the door. I rang the bell and Mary Jane answered on the fourth ring. She looked more like her booking photo than Mary Jane the prom queen I remembered from high school.

She had a baby strapped to her chest and I could see two toddlers watching television in the living room. The volume on the television was deafening.

Mary Jane rotated her head and yelled over the television. “Benjamin Ryan Merkle! Turn the sound down or I’m taking the remote away. And stop eating those biscuits. They’re for the dog.” She turned back to Lula and me. “Omigod, Stephanie Plum?”

“Mary Jane? Holy cow, how many kids do you have?”

“Four. Dillon James is in first grade. Benjamin Ryan is four, Ethan Dale is two, and Samantha Louise on my chest is four months.” Mary Jane took a step back. “You have to come in the house. If the door stays open the dog will run out.”

I closed the door and a fat Chihuahua waddled in from the kitchen. It stopped inches from Lula and growled.

“I got a way with animals,” Lula said.

“Lula and I work for Vinnie,” I said to Mary Jane. “He wrote your bail bond when you got arrested for the bakery thing.”

Mary Jane looked like she was drawing a blank.

“You know,” Lula said. “When you shot up the bakery case with the cannoli and the éclairs. What the heck were you thinking? Why didn’t you just shoot up a loaf of bread?”

“I needed an éclair, and the bakery was closed,” Mary Jane said. “It wasn’t supposed to be closed. They closed early.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lula said. “That might make a difference.”

Mary Jane rocked back and forth with the baby. “I gave up smoking and drinking and coffee to have this baby. And now I’m breastfeeding so I’m still off smoking, drinking, and coffee. Do you know what’s left? An éclair. All I wanted was a stinking éclair. My mother-in-law came over to babysit, so I could go to my ob-gyn appointment, and after my appointment I had ten minutes left to go to the bakery and get an éclair.”

“And the bakery closed early,” Lula said.

“Exactly,” Mary Jane said.

“That’s outrageous,” Lula said. “They had no business doing that. Still, I had to eat a bagel on account of you shot up the éclairs and the custard-filled doughnuts.”

“I was able to get the front door open, but when I got inside, the refrigerator case with the éclairs was locked. Locked! I mean it was the last straw. What the Hellman’s Mayonnaise do I have to do to get an éclair?”

“You could have just stolen some cookies,” Lula said. “Nobody would have minded. They’re usually stale anyway.”

“I wanted an éclair,” Mary Jane said. “I needed an éclair. I totally freaked when I couldn’t get in the case. I found a gun behind the counter and I just started shooting.”

“You had bakery rage,” Lula said.

“Yes!” Mary Jane said. “Bakery rage!”

“I hear what you’re saying,” Lula said. “I get rage at the drive-thru when they short me on the fries. That’s why I don’t go to the drive-thru anymore. You always get forked at the drive-thru.”