Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(48)

“We went to high school together,” Charlotte said. “Do you remember me? We were in the chess club senior year, but we never played each other.”

“Maybe I remember,” Melvin said. “Your hair was different. It was short.”

Charlotte nodded. “I grew it out in college. It’s easier to keep this way.”

“I like it this way,” Melvin said. “It’s pretty.”

Charlotte froze for a beat, and it occurred to me that this might be the first time anyone had told Charlotte that anything about her was pretty. She dipped her head, hiding her smile, and she fidgeted with her braid. “Thanks,” she said. “I like your hair, too.”

Melvin rolled his eyes up into his head, as if he could see his hair. “I think it might be too thin.” He put his hand to his head and felt his hair. “It feels thin. The men in my family lose their hair early.”

“Grass don’t grow on a busy street,” Grandma said. “Better to be smart than to have hair.”

“I was hoping Charlotte could stay here for a couple days,” I told my mom. “She’s in a similar predicament as Melvin.”

“I’d like to help but I don’t know where we’d put her,” my mom said. “We don’t have any extra bedrooms.”

“She can have my room,” Melvin said. “I don’t sleep a lot and I can nap on the couch.”

That sealed the deal for Charlotte. Melvin was her hero. She was breathlessly besotted. I swear I could see stars in her eyes. Melvin looked like he’d just won the million-dollar lottery and was worried he might be dreaming.

“I guess it would be okay then,” my mom said.

“I understand why you chose Charley,” I said to Charlotte. “It’s from Charlotte. Why the Q?”

“It’s my favorite letter in the alphabet,” Charlotte said. “It’s an oval with a swirly tail. It’s elegant.”



* * *




I didn’t stay for lunch. My mom now had two extra people to feed. I didn’t want to add to the burden. I let myself into my apartment and saw that Diesel was in the kitchen, talking on the phone. He signaled me that he’d be off in one minute, and he told the person at the other end that it wasn’t necessary to replace the bike. I assumed he was talking to Ana.

He hung up, got a beer out of the fridge, and chugged half. “You saw the bike?” he asked me.

“Yep. Smush city.”

“He’s losing his edge,” Diesel said. “The Hahahahaha was middle school.”

I got bread and peanut butter and made myself a sandwich. “Do you want one?” I asked Diesel.

“I’ll pass. Ana brought me a salad. There’s some left if you want it.”

“I’ll pass.” I added slices of banana and took a bite. “I found Charlotte. She was living next door to the house Oswald broke into. The home invasion was a mistake just like Oswald said. He was actually after Charlotte. She’s Charley Q.”

“The fourth Trenton Baked Potato.”

“Yeah. She was hiding out, living in her car and using the Wi-Fi at the food court in the mall. I stashed her with Melvin at my parents’ house.”

Diesel grinned. “How’s that working out?”

“They’re a perfect match, but it would be good if we could catch Oswald sooner than later. I don’t know how long my parents are going to tolerate having two houseguests.”

“I have someone watching the train station and I have someone walking the streets downtown. My IT guy hasn’t been able to ping Oswald. He’s changed all his devices. Melvin got in and was able to download information but nothing that helped us get to Oswald. And what really pisses me off is that Oswald’s been playing with us while he continues to evade us. He’s making me look bad.”

“Not to mention, he’s killing people.”

“Yeah, that, too.”

“When I asked Charlotte about hacking into Oswald’s network she hesitated and sat back a little. Maybe Melvin got out right away and didn’t see anything, but I think Charlotte hung in there for a while.”

“It would make more sense if Oswald was killing Baked Potatoes for some reason other than retribution for hacking.”

“Exactly. Like he’s been killing people to keep them from talking. And the tongue thing would be appropriate.”

Diesel nodded. “So, you aren’t just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

That caught me by surprise. My self-image ran more toward pleasantly ordinary. Pretty is definitely a couple notches above pleasantly ordinary. I must be having a good day.

“We should capitalize on the pretty,” Diesel said. “Suppose we dress you up in a skimpy little skirt and put some socks in your bra and set you on a street corner in downtown Trenton. See if Oswald takes the bait.”

Obviously, my prettiness fell short of the mark when it came to breasts. “You think I need to put socks in my bra?”

“Not for me. I think you’re a nice handful, but Oswald likes big boobs.”

“How about if we dress you up in drag and see if that turns him on?”

“I’ve tried that in the past. I make a really ugly woman.”

“Okay, suppose I go out there as bait and he grabs me. You’re going to step in before he cuts my tongue out, right?”