Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(32)

“What the heck,” Ed said.

Without a thought in my head, I acted on the distraction, spun Potts around, and shoved him toward the door. “Run!”

“What?” he said.

“RUN!”

Ed yelled to the two guys in jeans to grab us, but we were already out of the room, rounding the bar. Potts stumbled into a waitress, carrying a tray full of food, and everything flew off the tray and crashed onto the floor.

“Oh jeez,” Potts said to the waitress. “I’m so sorry.”

“No time,” I said, grabbing him and shoving him through the room and out the door.

I stuffed Grandma and Potts into the Buick, jumped behind the wheel, and stomped on the gas pedal. The two suits stood squinting in the sun, watching us chug down the street.

“Did I save you?” Potts asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely.”

“Were those real guns?”

“Yes, again.”

“That caught me by surprise,” Grandma said. “I know I’m in a dangerous situation being that everyone thinks I hold the key to the treasure, but I wasn’t expecting to be kidnapped by two men in suits. They looked so respectable.”

“They looked like thugs to me,” Potts said. “Of course, they already had their guns out when I came in, so that might have something to do with my first impression. I thought they looked like mob guys in those old Al Capone movies.”

“You could be right,” Grandma said. “I wasn’t thinking about Al Capone. I was thinking about the La-Z-Boys. They wore more comfortable clothes that had some elastic in the waistband.”

“Elastic waistbands are excellent, especially if you have intestinal issues,” Potts said.

“Who are you?” Grandma asked Potts.

“I’m Potts,” Potts said.

I brought Grandma home and suggested she not share this adventure with my mother.

“No problem,” Grandma said. “I have enough problems getting out of the house as it is.”

I returned to the office and left Potts outside, guarding the door.

“I stopped in at the Mole Hole,” I told Connie. “The back room was getting a makeover. New chairs, new rug, and a poker table. New goons.”

“Who ordered the makeover?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you knew.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”

I set my messenger bag on the floor and sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “There were two young guys moving furniture around. Looked like wiseguy wannabes. And there were two guys in suits. Ed and Chick. They were in their forties. Chunky. Looked like muscle. They said someone wanted to see me and Grandma, and the two morons pulled guns on us.”

“Grandma was with you?”

“I caught up with her there. Anyway, Potts came bumbling in and created enough chaos that we were able to get out.”

“It sounds like someone is reorganizing the La-Z-Boys,” Connie said.

“Or someone is taking over the La-Z-Boy territory.”

“I’ll call Mom,” Connie said. “She’ll find out what’s going on. We haven’t got as much inside pull since Uncle Jimmy died, but we’re still in the network.”

I looked toward the front of the office. I could see Potts standing at attention, super alert.

“I can’t get rid of him,” I said. “He won’t go away.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Connie said. “And while we’re on the subject of good deeds, it would be good for my end-of-the-month balance sheet if you could snag Trotter.”



* * *




Potts was sitting on the edge of the Buick’s backseat, looking over my shoulder.

“Where are we going? Is it going to be dangerous? Should I have a gun? Do you have a gun?”

“We’re going to Stiller Street. And no, no, and no.”

There was a good chance that Trotter would be home for lunch. It didn’t go well last time I approached him, but I was better prepared this time. I knew what to expect. And with any luck at all, he’d be passed out.

I turned onto Stiller and parked behind Trotter’s van.

“Is this it?” Potts asked. “What should I do? Should I go in first and make sure it’s safe for you? I’m okay with taking a bullet. Just in case, I’m wearing a medical bracelet that has my blood type.”

“Wait in the car. I won’t be long.”

“You said that last time, but you didn’t come out right away.”

I walked to the door and rang the bell. I had my stun gun in one pocket and cuffs in another. Potts was behind me.

“I know you said to stay in the car,” he said, “but bodyguards in the movies are always close to the bodies they’re guarding. Besides, I could be helpful. I could tell this person about my positive experience with the bail bonds system.”

“No. No talking. I do the talking.”

The door opened, and Trotter’s mother squinted at me. “Do I know you?”

“Stephanie Plum,” I said. “Is Rodney home?”

“He’s in the kitchen, eating a late lunch. He had a big procedure this morning.”

I stepped around her and threaded my way through the hoarded groceries and stuffed dead animals. I could hear Potts wheezing, following in my footsteps.