Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(17)

“Vinnie is in Vegas,” Connie said. “Poker tournament.”

I hiked my messenger bag higher onto my shoulder. “Let’s see if there’s a ten-year-old Chevy Nova parked on South Clinton.”

“I guess I could go along with that,” Lula said.

I drove a short distance down Hamilton Avenue, turned onto South Clinton, crossed over the railroad tracks, and followed Clinton to the cemetery. There were some cars parked at the curb alongside the cemetery, but none of them looked like they were home to a fry cook.

“He could be camped out inside,” Lula said. “This is a cozy cemetery. It’s got lots of trees, and I can see from here that they keep the grounds nice.”

I parked behind one of the cars.

“Hold on here,” Lula said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to walk around and see if he’s camped out behind a tombstone.”

“I’d just as leave stay here, thank you. Cemeteries bring me down. And on top of that I’m not looking forward to seeing the roach cooker. I got a bad feeling about him.”

“Okay,” I said. “You stay here and guard the car while I prowl around the cemetery. Make sure the roach cooker doesn’t carjack us.”

“You didn’t believe in my nipple radar, either, and look where that got us,” Lula said.

I left Lula in the car, found the entrance gate, and meandered around, following paths, listening for activity. I walked up a small hill and saw a solitary figure on the other side. It was a slim woman dressed in black. She was very still, staring at a headstone on a relatively new grave. It was Gabriela. She turned as I crested the hill and glanced my way. She did a small nod of acknowledgment and returned her attention to the simple granite marker.

I walked downhill and joined her. The name on the headstone was Julius Roman. He’d been one of the six La-Z-Boys. He’d recently been killed execution-style and one of the clues in the Mole Hole safe had been his.

“A relative?” I asked Gabriela.

“No,” she said. “And you?”

“No.”

“But you knew him.”

“We met shortly before he died,” I said.

“I understand he was killed. Gunshot. Deliberate.”

I nodded. “Yes. Was he a close friend?”

“No,” she said.

“Are you here looking for someone who knew Julius or are you looking for something else?”

“Just looking.”

She turned and walked away, following a path that led in the opposite direction from where my car was parked.

After ten more minutes of wandering around, looking for Rugalowski, I was back behind the wheel.

“How did that go?” Lula asked.

“I didn’t find Rugalowski, but I ran into Gabriela.”

“Who?”

“The woman in black with the Fendi bag. More and more I’m thinking she’s after the treasure. She was at Julius Roman’s grave.”

“What was she doing there?”

“Nothing. Looking at the gravestone.”

“Did she have a shovel?”

“No,” I said. “This time she had a Hermès purse.”

“I always wanted a Hermès purse. They’re real classy.”

“I didn’t know you were into classy.”

“You bet your ass,” Lula said. “I’m all about it.”

I backtracked down Clinton to Hamilton and drove past Cluck-in-a-Bucket. An aging Chevy Nova was parked in the lot.

“Looks like he’s got the breakfast shift,” Lula said. “Probably people coming in for their morning nuts.”

I made a U-turn, swung into the lot, and idled next to the Nova.

“Now what?” Lula asked.

“Now you’re going to look in his car to see if he’s asleep in there.”

Lula got out and looked in the car.

“Nobody here,” she said, “but this car is a mess. It’s full of crumpled-up beer cans and dirty clothes. And there’s a bunch of ratty magazines.”

“Porno?”

“Mostly Guns and Ammo and Food Network.” Lula got back into my CR-V. “You aren’t planning on another takedown attempt while he’s working the fry station, are you? I couldn’t come up with a lot of enthusiasm for that.”

“No. I want to get him after hours. I’ll have Connie do some research on his schedule and maybe she can find an address that isn’t a cemetery.”

“That leaves the butt guy,” Lula said. “It used to be that we went after carjackers and armed robbery guys, and now we got a bunch of creepers.”

I was with Lula. I couldn’t get excited about another face-to-face with Rodney Trotter. I had treasure on my mind.

“I say we go back to the office and see if anything good came in this morning,” Lula said. “A killer or a serial rapist. Something normal.”



* * *




“Sorry,” Connie said, “I haven’t got any new skips, but I made a couple phone calls while you were gone, and it looks like Charlie Shine is definitely in town. Marge Russo saw him yesterday. She said she was crossing the street and he drove past her. He was wearing a hat pulled down low and dark sunglasses but she was sure it was him. And Loretta Bettman saw him over the weekend. She said he was behind her at the Dunkin’ drive-thru. Both times he was alone and driving a white Kia.”