Fortune and Glory (Stephanie Plum, #27)(43)

I grabbed a pair of dark denim jeans and went to the dressing room. I had the jeans and white shirt on, and Potts came back with more jeans and jackets and sweaters and shirts. I worked my way through the stash and liked everything.

“What’s your budget?” Potts asked. “We’re in four digits.”

“That’s over my budget but everything looks great.”

“If you take everything, you have a week’s worth of clothes.”

Grandma looked at the bundle of clothes in my arms. “You really need the clothes. I can’t remember when you bought work clothes last. And you can even wear these on a date. If anyone ever asks you out.”

“You need boots or flats,” Potts said. “Maybe both. You can’t wear these outfits with your sneakers.”

By the time we got back to the car I was in a cold sweat and my stomach was sick. I’d blown the entire apprehension check, and I wasn’t sure I was comfortable trading my hooded sweatshirt for tailored jackets and chunky sweaters. The ankle-high rubber soled boots and the black flats were keepers.

“I just got a text from your mother,” Grandma said. “Carla Skootch passed this morning. The viewing is tomorrow with the burial on Saturday. Good thing I didn’t wait to go shopping for a dress.”

“I can’t go to viewings and funerals,” Potts said. “I’m allergic to carnations and there are always carnations in the flower arrangements. Mostly I get congested but sometimes I wheeze if there are carnations and lilies. Lilies are the worst. Most funeral directors know CPR and have defibrillators to counteract the lily reactions.”

“I didn’t know that,” Grandma said.

“I read it somewhere,” Potts said. “It might have been in the AARP magazine, or I might have seen it on YouTube.” The timer went off on his phone. “I have to eat,” he said. “I’m overdue for dinner. Are my lips blue? Am I pale?”

“You’re always pale,” Grandma said. “You need to get more sun.”

“I can stop at Country Diner when I get off the highway,” I said.

“That suits me,” Grandma said. “I eat there sometimes with the girls after bingo. I like their rice pudding.”

“I need a booth,” Potts said. “I get agitated if I sit in the middle of a room.”

“You’ve got a lot of rules,” Grandma said.

“I know,” Potts said. “I’m annoying. I can’t help it.”

“Of course, you can help it,” Grandma said. “Make a list of everything you think is annoying and then stop doing all the things on the list.”

“That’s a good idea,” Potts said. “You tell me when I do something annoying, and I’ll put it on my list.”

I turned off the highway and took Mitchell Street.

“What’s that noise?” Grandma asked.

“It’s Potts,” I said. “He’s humming.”

“Good Lord,” Grandma said.

“Is my humming annoying?” Potts asked. “It annoys some people.”

“It annoys me,” Grandma said. “Put it on your list.”

“I don’t know if I can stop humming,” he said. “It keeps me calm. I hum during times of stress. Also, when I’m thinking. And I hum when I’m bored.”

“How about if you hum on the side of the road, watching us drive away and go to the diner without you,” Grandma said.

“That would be terrible,” Potts said. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“Problem solved,” I said, pulling into the lot to the diner. “Here we are.”

We snagged a booth and gave the waitress our order.

“It doesn’t seem to me that we’re making much progress getting to my treasure,” Grandma said. “We’ve got clues, but we only have two of them, and we don’t know what they mean without the rest of the clues.”

“I’m good with clues,” Potts said. “What are they?”

“Ace it. And Philadelphia,” Grandma said.

“I see your problem. Standing alone those clues aren’t helpful. How many more clues are there?”

“Four more,” Grandma said. “The six gangster owners of the Mole Hole each had a clue to a treasure.”

“And you want their treasure?” Potts asked.

“One of the gangsters was my late husband,” Grandma said. “I got a rightful claim on his share.”

“That sounds fair,” Potts said. “What’s the treasure?”

“We don’t know,” Grandma said, “but we hear it’s worth a lot of money. Three of the gangsters are dead, including my honey, Jimmy. The other two are scumbags who are trying to kidnap Stephanie and me.”

“What about the last one?” Potts asked. “Will he give you his clue?”

“We’re working on it,” Grandma said.

“We should go talk to him,” Potts said.

“His wife just died,” I said.

Potts looked to Grandma and then to me. “Is that a problem?”

“I guess we could offer our condolences and work the treasure into the conversation,” Grandma said.

Our food arrived. Turkey dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy for Grandma. A burger, no bun for Potts. Grilled cheese and fries for me. This is the joy of a Jersey diner. Something for everyone.