Game On: Tempting Twenty-Eight (Stephanie Plum #28)(68)

“Do you have any ideas about where you want to sniff?” I asked Lula.

“I’ve been thinking about it. We know that he spends time in the downtown area. So where does he eat? He doesn’t seem like a fast-food person. And the way he moves around doesn’t make it easy for him to do gourmet cooking. He could be eating in nice restaurants but that would make him easy to see. And anyway, I’m guessing by now he’s running out of clean clothes. So that leaves takeout food and stores with fancy prepared food. We can go to the fancy food stores and flash Oswald’s picture. I got an app on my phone that tells me where they are. And then you could ask Melvin to hack into some of the food delivery people.”

“That’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, and I wasn’t even high when I thought about it. Okay, so I might have been double dosing on the pain meds but I’m a big girl. You gotta take that into consideration when you prescribe for me.”

“Are you on meds now?”

“No. I used them all up and they won’t give me anymore. I could get some from the hair salon but I’m afraid Amy is still there, and I’d have to make an appointment.”

I called Melvin and asked if he could hack into delivery services in the downtown area.

“Easy peasy,” he said. “Are we looking for deliveries to O.W.?”

“Yes. How’s life at Rangeman?”

“It’s amazing. Ranger lets me hang in the control center and the internet speed is unbelievable here.”

“How about Charlotte?”

“I think she misses the freedom of being able to move around outside, but she’s able to keep her business going here. And she likes the egg salad and fresh fruit at the dining area. We always eat together.”

“Let me know if you get a hit on the deliveries,” I said. “I’m in the field.”

“Roger,” Melvin said.

“He’s a nice person,” Lula said. “I’m glad he didn’t get his tongue cut out.”

By the time I was rolling down South Broad, Lula had a list of stores to visit.

“There aren’t a whole lot of specialty shops in our targeted area,” Lula said. “I’ve got seven possibilities. If we don’t score in any of them, I can search a larger area.”

I turned onto State Street and Diesel called. “I’m hanging out on State Street, and I think you just drove by. Is that your new SUV?”

“Yep. Lula had a genius idea. Oswald has to be getting food somewhere. We’re checking it out.”

“He’s a food snob,” Diesel said. “Ditto wine.”

“We figured. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

I parked on a side street a couple blocks and around the corner from Diesel’s surveillance spot and pulled Lula’s list of eateries up on my phone. Four out of the seven possibilities were on East State Street. I hit all four while Lula stayed in the car. None of the four had an employee who recognized Oswald’s photo. When I returned there were three doughnuts left in the box, and two pieces of fried chicken left in the bucket. Lula was asleep, snoring. I heard her half a block away. It sounded like someone was working with a chain saw.

I decided it was easier to walk to the remaining three stores than to try to wake Lula.

Newman’s Specialty was one block off State. It was a high-end deli that had cases of packaged entrees, salads, and sandwiches. It also had delicacies like caviar, smoked salmon, foie gras, and Swiss chocolates.

I showed Oswald’s picture to the woman at the register and got an immediate response.

“He’s become a regular customer,” she said. “I hope he isn’t in any trouble. He’s so charming. Very discerning. Has preferences in caviar and salmon.”

“It’s a small matter,” I said. “I believe he might have some useful information. Do you know where he lives?”

“No. Sorry. He pays cash and he’s never asked for delivery.”

“Is he here every day?”

“No. It’s random. Frequently he’ll stop in after work. Once he mentioned that he took the train to New York.”

“Thanks,” I said. “This has been helpful.”

The last two stores were Korean groceries and couldn’t identify Oswald as a customer.

I left Lula sleeping in the car and walked down State Street to where Diesel was lounging in a doorway.

“You look like a street person,” I said.

“Mission accomplished.”

If I was being honest, he looked like a sexy street person, if such a thing existed.

“A woman working in a gourmet deli a block away said Oswald is a regular customer,” I said. “She told me that he frequently came in after work, but not on any set day of the week.”

I saw Diesel’s focus move from me to something in the near distance, across the street. I followed his line of sight and saw Wulf. He was in front of a coffee shop, watching us.

“What’s this about?” I asked Diesel.

“No clue,” Diesel said. “Maybe he’s shadowing me.”

“Is that normal? Does he always follow you around?”

“Only when hell gets boring.”

“He isn’t the spawn of Satan, is he?”

Diesel smiled. “He’s always evasive when I ask him that question.”