Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(8)

Diggery had Ethel by the tail end and was trying to pull her toward the trailer, but he couldn’t get a good grip.

“Get in front of her and shoo her back to me,” Diggery said.

Yeah, right. I don’t think so. “How about if you get in front of her and maybe she’ll curl up on you,” I said.

Diggery trotted around and stood in front of Ethel. “Come on, Ethel. I got a candy bar for you in the kitchen.”

Ethel stopped all forward motion and thought about it.

“What kind of candy bar?” Lula asked.

“I got a Snickers,” Diggery said.

“That’s a good candy bar,” Lula said. “I wouldn’t mind having a Snickers. I got a piece of Cluck-in-a-Bucket fried chicken left over in the car. I’d trade you that piece of chicken for the Snickers.”

“Ethel would most likely rather have the chicken,” Diggery said. “It’s a deal.”

“It’s only a deal if you come back to town with me after you give Ethel her chicken,” I said.

“You got my word,” Diggery said.

Lula got the chicken from the car, handed it over to Diggery, and Diggery waved it in front of Ethel and led her back into the double-wide. After he got her into the trailer he slammed the door shut. Five minutes went by and there was no Diggery.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Simon!”

The door opened and Simon stuck his head out. “What?”

“Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“You know where,” I said. “We made a deal. You gave your word.”

“Everybody knows my word isn’t worth crap,” Diggery said. And he slammed the door closed again.

“That really burns me,” Lula said. “He took my chicken, and I didn’t get no candy bar.”

I blew out a sigh. This wasn’t going to be easy. I was going to have to go in there and drag him out, all the while trying to avoid Ethel.

“I want my candy bar!” Lula yelled at the trailer. “You better not be eating my candy bar.”

Nothing. No response from Diggery.

“That does it,” Lula said. “He’s not gonna get away with this. I was all set to have a tasty treat, and now I’m in a cranky mood. If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate it’s a man who doesn’t deliver on a dessert.”

Lula stomped up to the trailer, climbed the rickety steps, and hammered on the door. “Open up,” she said. “You better open this door and give me my Snickers bar or else.”

“Waa, waa, waa,” Diggery said on the other side of the door. “You’re just a sore loser on account of I outsmarted you.”

“Outsmart this,” Lula said, hauling her Glock out of her purse and drilling seven rounds into the door.

About forty snakes rushed out from under the trailer and made off for the woods. I shouted at Lula to stop shooting. And Diggery wrenched his door open and glared out at Lula.

“What are you, nuts?” Diggery said. “You can’t go around shooting up a man’s home. This here’s a respectable neighborhood. Look what you did to my door. Who’s gonna pay to fix this door?”

“Where’s my candy bar?” Lula asked.

“I don’t have no candy bar,” Diggery said. “I lied about the candy bar.”

Lula leaned forward. “I smell Snickers on your breath. And you got a little smudge of chocolate stuck in your whiskers. You ate my candy bar, didn’t you?”

“I was under stress,” Diggery said. “I needed it. I could feel my blood sugar plummeting.”

“Well, I’m not wasting any more time with you,” Lula said. “I got better things to do. And now I got a craving for a Snickers.”

Lula grabbed Diggery by his shirtfront, yanked him out of the double-wide, and kicked the door shut. She wrestled him down the stairs, lost her balance, and the two of them went to the ground. They rolled around a little. Lula got the top and sat on Diggery.

“I can’t breathe,” Diggery said. “How much do you weigh? Good thing for you I ate that candy bar. You don’t need no more candy bars.”

I got Diggery into plasti-cuffs, and Lula crawled off him. We lifted him to his feet and walked him to my car.





FOUR


IT WAS ALMOST noon by the time we left the police station. Diggery was in police custody, waiting for Vinnie to bond him out again, and I was in possession of a body receipt stating I’d recovered Diggery.

“I don’t know why we bother doing this,” I said to Lula. “It’s just wasted time and energy. Vinnie bonds him out, he goes FTA, and we bring him in. And then it starts all over again. It’s like we have a job doing nothing. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Nope,” Lula said. “I’m in it for the money.”

“The money sucks. Look at this car I’m driving!”

“Yeah, you must not know how to manage your money, because I have a kick-ass car.”

“You make less than I do. You get a percentage of my percentage.”

“True, but I’m also pulling a salary, and I do a little of this and a little of that.”

I cut my eyes to her. “What’s ‘a little of this and a little of that’?”