Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum #27)(33)

“I need my inhaler,” he said. “Did I tell you I was claustrophobic? Do I smell formaldehyde? I’m pretty sure I smell formaldehyde.”

If he crashed to the floor and his lips were blue and his eyes were rolled back in his head, I’d drag him out to the sidewalk and call 911. Otherwise I was going to ignore him.

“I don’t like these dead animals,” he said. “They aren’t smiling. They don’t look happy. When I’m laid out, I want to be smiling. Not a big smile like the joker. Just a little smile, like I know a secret.”

Trotter was at the table when I walked into the kitchen. There was a half-eaten sandwich and a half-empty vodka bottle in front of him.

“Hi,” I said. “Remember me?”

“Yes, I remember you. Go away.”

“If you would come with me to get re-bonded, you would never have to see me again. It would take a half hour.”

“I’m not wasting a half hour on bogus charges. I’m a renowned dermatological enhancement specialist. I have a wait-list of customers.” He reached down, took a tackle box off the floor, and opened it. “The syringes in this box are filled with my unique enhancement formula. If you go away, I’ll give you one free of charge.”

“What would I do with it?”

“Inject it somewhere. Blow up your lips. Puff up your cheek bones. Inject it in the pencil dick standing behind you and he’ll have a custard launcher the size of a horse.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but we aren’t in need of a syringe, and you’re going to have to check back with the court. Because you failed to appear for your first date, you’re now officially a felon.”

“Screw the court. I have a business to run.”

He threw a syringe at me and I jumped away. The syringe missed me and tagged Potts in the thigh, sticking in him like a dart in a corkboard.

“Omigod, omigod, omigod,” Potts said, staring down at the dart. “What should I do? Should I take it out? I’m afraid to touch it. I’m paralyzed with anxiety.”

I grabbed the dart and yanked it out.

“I think my leg is going numb,” he said. “I’m having one of my allergic reactions. I’m having a panic attack. Is my face getting blotchy? It feels blotchy. Next thing my tongue will swell up and I’ll choke to death.”

“Has that ever happened?” I asked him.

“All the time,” he said. “Except I don’t usually die.”

“What exactly was in the syringe?” I asked Trotter.

“Nothing. It was empty. Look at the syringe.”

“I need air,” Potts said. “I need to get out of here. Where’s the door? Everything is going black.”

He staggered into the living room, knocking over a stack of Ritz cracker boxes, a taxidermied groundhog that was missing a leg, and a tower of toilet paper.

“That was a mean thing to do,” I said to Trotter.

“Bite me,” he said. “And anyway, I was aiming for you.”

I caught up to Potts on the sidewalk. He had his finger on his jugular, taking his pulse.

“There was nothing in the syringe,” I said. “You just got stuck.”

“Are you sure? I could feel the serum going into me.”

“I have the syringe. It was empty.”

“My heart is racing,” he said.

“No doubt. Get in the car and I’ll buy you some ice cream. Do you like soft-serve?”

“Yeah. I like when they swirl the chocolate and vanilla together.”

“Me, too.”





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Connie looked up from her computer when I walked into the office. “Where’s your new best friend?”

“He had a tough afternoon. I bought him ice cream and took him home. Any news from your mom?”

“Yes. None of it good. Charlie Shine arranged the back room remodel. It’s primarily for some bad guys he brought in from Miami. He felt like he needed new muscle to run his operation.”

“He has an operation?”

“Apparently he’s coming out of retirement. My mother thinks he’s two cans short of a case. I think he needs money to hire lawyers to keep him out of jail.”

“Do we know what the operation includes?”

“The usual. Prostitution. Extortion. Old-school stuff. Plus, I don’t know what Jimmy had stashed away, but the word is that Shine wants it bad. And there are people who think the only reason the two witnesses in Shine’s murder charge are still alive is the fact that one or both of them holds the road map to the La-Z-Boys’ treasure.”

“Grandma and me.”

“Yes.”

“You’re right,” I said. “This isn’t good news.”

The big takeaway from Connie’s news was that Shine now had the ability to grab Grandma and me. He had henchmen.

“I don’t suppose you have a body receipt for Trotter?” Connie said.

“No, but I’m making progress. Have you heard anything from Lula?”

“The tooth she cracked had already been capped, so they popped it off and gave her a temporary. She would have come back to work, but she also chipped a nail and had to wait for an appointment with her nail tech.”