Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum #27)(22)

Potts jumped up when he saw me in the hall. “Surprise,” he said. “Are you surprised? I saw your picture on social. The one with you jumping out of the window of the burning hotel. It went viral. You’re famous. Anyway, I got worried about you, so I thought I’d come be like, you know, a bodyguard.”

“I didn’t jump. I dropped,” I said. “And it’s nice that you were worried about me, but I’m really in no danger.”

“That’s not what social is saying.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “You smell smoky… like weed.”

I unlocked my door and stepped inside. “Thanks for stopping by,” I said. “Don’t forget you have a court date coming up.”

Potts opened his mouth to say something, and I closed and locked the door before he uttered a word.

I waited a minute and looked out my security peephole. He was still there, staring at my door as if it would open at any minute and he’d be invited in. Don’t encourage him, I told myself. Eventually he’ll go away.

I stripped, threw my smoky clothes in the laundry basket, and took a shower. I dried my hair, got dressed in new clothes, and went to my front door. I looked out the peephole and I didn’t see Potts. Hooray. I put my ear to the door and listened. Someone was humming. Dear God, Potts was still there, sitting with his back to the door, in my peephole blind spot.

I made myself a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich for dinner. Rex came out of his soup can den to get a potato chip and I told him not to worry about Potts.

“I’m almost positive he’s harmless,” I said to Rex.

I called Lula and made arrangements to pick her up at her house at seven thirty.

“That’s a good time,” Lula said. “Some of the ladies start work early to service the geriatric losers who need to be home in bed by nine o’clock.”

I checked my email and spent some time rereading the file I had on Charlie Shine, hoping I’d missed something that resembled a clue. At seven o’clock I stopped reading, grabbed my messenger bag and a sweatshirt, and went to the door. I made a fast promise to God that I’d go to church if I opened the door and Potts wasn’t there. I looked out my peephole and saw Potts. He was marching back and forth in front of my door.

“You can kiss that promise good-bye,” I said to God.

I opened my door and Potts stopped marching.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now I go to work and you go home.”

“No way,” he said. “I’m sticking to you like glue. I’ve made up my mind. You saved my life by putting up my bond and now I have to save yours.”

“I didn’t save your life,” I said. “You would have managed.”

“No, no, no. I would have died. I had a premonition. Did I tell you I get premonitions? It’s a curse. They’re always terrible.”

“Do they come true?”

“I don’t know, they’re usually about people in Slovenia.”

“Do you have relatives there? Do you know anyone there?”

“No. That’s why it’s so odd. Sometimes my premonitions are local and then I just avoid the situation. Like once I had a premonition that I was going to get run over by a clown on a motorcycle, so I stayed home, and it didn’t happen.”

“Smart.”

“Yeah. So, where are we going? Are we going out after some real bad guy? Like a murderer?”

I locked my door and headed for the stairs. “Just doing some research.”

“I’m good at research. I’m like a Google pro.”

My plan was to take the stairs fast, sprint across the lot to my car, get in, and lock the doors before he could reach me. I was halfway down the stairs when he suddenly catapulted past me and rolled head over teakettles to the bottom.

He was flat out, on his back with his eyes open and unblinking.

“Holy crap,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m okay,” he said. “I need a minute. Do you see any bones sticking out like they’re broken? Do you see any blood?”

“No.”

“I can wiggle my toes in my shoes, so I’m not paralyzed. And look, I can move my fingers.”

“Those are all good signs,” I said. “I have to go now. I’m meeting someone.”

“What about my head?” he asked. “Did I hit my head?”

“Yeah, lots of times. All the way down.”

“I could have a concussion.”

He stood and swayed back and forth. “Am I swaying?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“That’s good because I’m trying to sway.”

I looked around. “Do you have a car here?”

“No. I had my friend Morgan drop me off. I thought I’d be going in your car, being that I’m protecting you.”

“Wrong.”

“Here, look at this. I’m walking. And I’m talking. I was afraid I might black out. I did that once at the dentist office. And while I was out, I peed my pants.”

“You aren’t going to do that now, are you?”

“I don’t think so, but I might be a little dizzy. I’ll feel better when I get to your car and I can sit down.”

I was doomed. I was never going to be rid of him. This is what happens when you try to be nice. You find out your ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend and you get stuck with George Potts.