Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(66)

“Lula is ready to solve the world’s problems,” I said to Diesel.

“I’ll hang out here,” he said. “I’m not doing any more door-to-door, but surveillance sounds manageable.”

Lula was waiting at the curb when I pulled up in front of her house. She was wearing black tights that bulged slightly where she was bandaged, black biker boots, and a bright yellow sequined tank top under a black leather jacket. Her hair was hidden under a pink Marilyn Monroe–style wig.

“Ow,” she said, getting into the Buick. “Ow, ow.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Hell, yeah. I’ll be fine. I just need a doughnut. Maybe a bucket of chicken.”

“I thought we could check in with Connie and then pick up your car.”

“Perfect. I’m ready to kick some butt. I want a piece of that Oswald creep.”

“We’re working on it.”

“Are you making any progress?”

“Diesel thinks we are, but I’m not convinced.”

Lula’s red Firebird was parked in front of the office. I pulled in behind it and Lula got out.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” she said, limping up to the office door.

I opened the door for her, and she limped in. “Ow, ow, ow, ow.”

Connie looked over her computer at Lula’s leg. “I guess that hurts,” Connie said.

“Only when I walk or move or breathe,” Lula said. “Where’s the doughnuts?”

“I skipped the doughnuts this morning. I didn’t think you’d be coming in,” Connie said.

“This office is going to heck,” Lula said. “One day we gotta eat bagels instead of doughnuts and then next thing you know there’s nothing. Not even a stale bagel.”

“We can get a box of doughnuts on the way to get a bucket of chicken,” I said.

“I guess that would be okay,” Lula said. “It’s not like we’re on the same schedule, anyway. This would be more like lunch doughnuts.”

“Anything new going on here?” I asked Connie. “Has anyone seen Oswald?”

“No word on Oswald. Vinnie called in and said he had a headache.”

“Lucca head-butted him in the men’s room.”

“Vinnie said you saved the day. He’s giving you credit for the capture. Do you want a check, or do you want me to deposit it in your account?”

“Deposit it. I need a car.”

“That could be first thing on our agenda,” Lula said. “We should go car shopping. There’s a new place where the farmer’s market used to be in North Trenton. I got a special relationship with the owner, Slick Eddie. He used to negotiate levels of enjoyment when customers wanted to spend time with my friend Nicole. Nicole and me worked the same corner on Stark sometimes during the rush hour.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look,” I said.

“He’ll give you a good price,” Lula said. “He owes me some favors. And now that I’ve been shot, I can play the pity card. The way I see it, if you got cards you gotta play them.”

I helped Lula make her way back to the Buick and I drove to the bakery.

“I’ll wait here,” Lula said. “I want a dozen Boston crèmes.”

I came back with the Boston crèmes and drove to Cluck-in-a-Bucket.

“I want a big bucket of extra crispy,” Lula said. “And then I want curly fries and some Clucky Biscuits with gravy. No, wait. Skip the gravy. I don’t want to get gravy on my tank top. Gravy’s hard to get out of sequins.”

I returned with the food and drove to North Trenton. The car lot was next to an auto body repair shop. I thought this arrangement was very convenient for spiffing up beaters so they looked nice, and also for creating new VIN tags to stick on the car if one was needed. Not that I was judgmental. Every car deserved an owner, right? It wasn’t the car’s fault if it had an unfortunate history.

Lula got out of the Buick and approached the extra-large guy who was standing in the doorway of the cargo container office.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Lula said.

The guy recognized Lula and was all smiles. “Lula! Good to see you. Been a long time. What’s with the ow, ow, ow?”

“Some lunatic shot me. Can you imagine?”

“Anybody I know?”

“He’s an out-of-town lunatic,” Lula said.

“I see you’re driving a classic,” he said. “Are you looking to trade it?”

“No,” Lula said. “Stephanie needs a car. Gotta be four doors and in good shape. She’s on a limited budget but I know you’ll give her a good deal.”

He spread his arms wide. “Take a look at what’s here. Let me know if you see something you like.”

“None of these cars have prices on them,” I said to Lula.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “He’s a businessman.”

I thought that might be code for fence, but best not to ask.

“How about this white Honda CR-V?” I asked.

“Good choice if you’re on a budget,” Slick Eddie said. “It’s a 2002 and in great shape. Low mileage.”

“How much is it?” I asked.