Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(43)

“This is interesting,” I said to Diesel. “Grandma sent me a photo that was taken at Clark Stupin’s viewing. I’m almost positive that this woman in the photo was at Melvin’s door this morning. Lula and I went to Melvin’s loft to get him fresh clothes and we saw her knocking on his door. When he didn’t answer, she left. I took her picture and when I showed it to Melvin, he said that he didn’t recognize her.”

“Maybe she was a hooker and Melvin didn’t want you to know. Maybe she was selling Girl Scout cookies.”

“Maybe she was sent by Oswald,” I said. “He likes pretty women and she’s kind of pretty. They could be a couple.”

“Do you have a name? An address?”

“I have both.”

“Let’s go for a ride,” Diesel said.

Charlotte Huck lived on a quiet side street in downtown Trenton. There were two blocks of narrow two-story attached town homes and they all looked the same. Her house was in the middle of the block.

“This is it,” I said, “108 Spruce Street.”

“I don’t see a Porsche parked anywhere on the street,” Diesel said.

“She drives a Kia, and I don’t see it here, either.”

Diesel drove to the end of the street and turned the corner. A one-lane alley divided the block of town homes. He took the alley and counted off houses. He stopped at the fifth house.

“This is the back of her house,” he said.

There were no garages, but cars were parked in pull-off areas behind all the houses. No Porsche or Kia in sight. Diesel parked two houses down and we walked back to Charlotte Huck’s house. No lights were on. No sign of activity. Diesel knocked on the back door. No answer. He carefully opened the door. We stepped inside and looked around.

“Bail bonds enforcement,” I said, just to make things legal.

“The air smells stale,” Diesel said. “I think this place has been closed up for at least a week. No mess in the kitchen.” He opened the refrigerator. “Not a lot in here.”

We walked through the house, looking in closets and dresser drawers. Everything was neat and organized. Clothes were minimal. Mostly casual, leaning to oversize cotton. All clothes were female.

An upstairs bedroom had been made into an office. Desk, chair, printer. No computer.

“She’s not out of town,” I said. “She was at a viewing last night.”

“She’s staying with someone,” Diesel said, “but after looking in her closet and going through her drawers, I find it hard to believe she’s with Oswald. I can’t see him doing someone who wears granny panties. My guess is she’s staying with a less demanding boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“Why was she knocking on Melvin’s door?”

“I don’t know the answer to that.”

“And why was she at Stupin’s viewing? I think there’s a connection. Charlotte Huck, Melvin Schwartz, and Clark Stupin. They’re local. They’re all around the same age and they all went to Trenton High.”

“Maybe she was Stupin’s girlfriend,” Diesel said.

“Melvin would have recognized her. Suppose she’s the fourth Baked Potato?”

“Then she’s smart to be hiding.”

Diesel locked Charlotte’s back door and we walked to the Bronco.

“Now what?” Diesel asked.

“Carrot cake,” I said.

“Works for me.”

“When is your game on?” I asked him.

“It starts at three o’clock.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Three in the morning. New Zealand is playing Argentina.”

“I get that game?”

“You do now,” Diesel said.

“Have you heard any more from Wulf?”

“No, but I got a call from Auntie. Oswald is still creating havoc within the organization, overriding security systems and shutting down energy sources, projecting doomsday videos on monitor screens.”

“Why is he doing this? Has he made ransom demands?”

“No ransom demands yet. It appears to be a show of force leading up to something serious.”

“The something ‘big.’?”

“Yeah. The details are on a need-to-know basis,” Diesel said, “and I don’t need to know. Oswald hacked in about four weeks ago and the worst was expected, but it’s turned into a show of gamesmanship. Not sure why he’s charting this course, but it’s given us time to track him down. Maybe that’s part of the thrill for him. Maybe he enjoys increasing his own personal danger.”

“Or maybe the Baked Potatoes hacked Oswald and screwed something up?”

“The timing fits,” Diesel said.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


I woke up feeling energized. I was sure Charlotte Huck was a piece of the puzzle. And I had a strong suspicion that she was a Baked Potato. She had a degree from MIT. She was hiding out somewhere with her computer and she had an interest in Melvin and Clark.

I was enjoying leftover carrot cake for breakfast when Diesel walked into the kitchen. He was barefoot and tousled, wearing jeans that were sitting low on his hips. I suspected he was commando under the jeans. I was making an effort to look him in the eye, but the temptation to stare at the perfect ripped part of him between navel and denim waistband was undeniable.