Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(44)

“Carrot cake for breakfast is going to go straight to your hips,” Diesel said. “Of course, that’s only conjecture since I never get to see your hips.”

“Did your team win?”

“Yeah, they always win.”

“Do you have plans for the day?” I asked him.

“No. I thought I’d sleep for most of it. How about you?”

“I have plans but they’re vague.”

“Let me know if they involve me.”

I finished my cake and went out to the parking lot. Diesel’s Ducati and Bronco were parked side by side at the edge of the lot. The Ducati looked like it had been run over by a steamroller. It was squashed flat, and a note had been pinned to it. The message on the note was “hahahahahahaha! O.W.”

Bad Stephanie wanted to laugh along with the note. I told myself that would be inappropriate and quickly walked to my car. I debated telling Diesel but decided there was no reason to ruin his morning. He’d find out soon enough.

I drove to my parents’ house, and I could smell the coffee brewing the instant I opened the front door.

My mom was knitting at the little kitchen table and Grandma was setting out pastries on a platter. Melvin was working at the dining table.

“We got a new coffeemaker,” Grandma said. “It can do all kinds of fancy things except we don’t know how to do them, but the coffee is real good. It’s got something called crema on top of it. It’s like being in Italy where they have all those special coffee shops. I know about it because I watch the travel channel. I like the ones on Italy, and I like the one with Stanley Tucci. He’s hot.”

The pastries looked tempting, but I’d just had carrot cake, so I bypassed them and got a cup of coffee with crema.

“The scarf looks like it’s coming along,” I said to my mother.

“I don’t know why I didn’t take this up sooner,” she said. “It’s so satisfying.”

“It’s nuts,” Grandma said. “All you do is knit all day. You got a scarf that’s seven feet long.”

“I’m perfecting my stitch,” my mom said.

I took my coffee into the dining room. “How’s it going?” I asked Melvin.

“Okay, I guess,” he said. “I’m making progress and I think I’ve figured out some of O.W.’s tricks. If the fake files are any indication of what’s in the real files, I’m kind of sorry I can’t do something with the downloads when I get them. But that’s not the deal.”

“What deal is that?”

“The deal with Diesel and then I have a deal with the police guy, Morelli.”

“Morelli talked to you?”

“Yeah. He’s okay. He has a job to do. I get it. And he’s been good to me and not turned this over to the feds. Except I’m sure at some point the feds and who-knows-what will be involved.”

“Why do you think Oswald is killing Baked Potatoes?”

Melvin shrugged. “Crazy? A show of strength? Pissed off at being hacked?”

“Is it possible the group saw something they shouldn’t have during the initial hack?”

“I guess it’s possible O.W. thinks we did, but I didn’t see anything.”

I broke down and ate a cheese Danish.

“Remember I showed you a picture of Charlotte Huck yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“She was at Clark’s viewing. She’s around your age and she went to Trenton High School. Are you sure you don’t remember her?”

“I didn’t know a lot of girls. Clark and I mostly hung together and looked at girls, but we didn’t get to talk to them.”

“Is Clark still talking to you from the great beyond?”

“No, he checked out. I guess he’s talking to someone else.”

“You must miss him.”

“Yeah. Clark was cool. He was a good friend. It’s lonely without him.”

“Maybe you need to spend some time with your family.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, but I’d have to do a lot of changing. I don’t fit into their adult son image. And the thing is, I’m comfortable with myself the way I am right now. My life was okay until O.W. decided he had to kill me.”

I left Melvin and drove to the office. Connie was at her desk, and Lula was pacing in front of the big plate glass storefront window. Lula’s hair was still retro seventies, but it had chunks taken out of it at random places.

“How’s your life?” Lula asked.

“It’s good,” I said.

“Mine’s crap,” Lula said. “I’ve totally lost my mojo. Something happened in the universe, like an asteroid passed too close and sucked out my mojo, and I’m pretty sure it got transferred over to you. Now you’ve got my mojo, and I’m a walking disaster waiting to happen. Just think about it. Who had the bat get stuck in her hair? Me. Who got their purse snatched and ended up in a dumpster? Me. I was the one who did an overnight with Melvin Stupin. I was the one who got hosed down by the mooner. I was the one who had to babysit the toxic pooper. I’m the one in hair hell. And it keeps getting worse. Those things always happen to you, you see what I’m saying? They’re supposed to happen to you and not to me. It’s all topsy-turvy. You’re even the one with a hottie sleeping at your house.”