Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum #24)(65)

“He gets excited,” Grandma said. “It’s only a little tinkle. He’s mostly empty.”

I picked Henry up and carried him into the kitchen.

“How did it go with Judy Chucci?” I asked Grandma.

“Pretty good, except her house is a mess. Gnomes everywhere. You can’t hardly walk. Henry tinkled on a bunch of them, but she didn’t notice, and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think it mattered, what with the state of things.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Well, she can fry up an egg and make coffee. Beyond that it’s hard to tell. I told her she should take up bingo. It’ll get her out of the house. She said Mr. Murphy would have loved bingo, even though he could see out of only one eye.”

I put Henry down and went to the fridge. “Do we have any meatloaf?”

“Sit and I’ll make you a sandwich,” my mother said. “You look pale. Are you eating? You aren’t living on candy bars, are you?”

“I try to get ones with nuts in them,” I said, taking a place at the kitchen table. “Keeps my protein level up.”

I couldn’t see my mother’s face, but I knew she was rolling her eyes and asking for help from whoever was working the help desk in heaven.

She gave me a meatloaf sandwich with chips and pickles. I broke off a small piece of meatloaf and fed it to Henry.

“We aren’t feeding him at the table,” my mother said.

“Of course, we are,” Grandma said. “Look how little he is. Look how cute. And he was an orphan. Poor thing.”

My mom pulled a chair out, sat down, and Henry jumped into her lap. Her shoulders slumped a little and she scratched him behind his ear. She was doomed. She was a sucker for kids and helpless little creatures.

I finished my food and called Morelli.

“I’m at my mom’s,” I said. “Do you need me to walk Bob?”

“No. I left Bob with my sister-in-law. I suspected I’d be late.”

“How’s it going with the zombie roundup?”

“We’ve gone through almost the entire area and cleaned out the underground dens. We’ll stay here until dark and then pack it in. We haven’t found any more zombies. Impossible to get a grip on the numbers. I’m sure the users are scattered.”

“Why the underground dens? Why not abandoned buildings?”

“Don’t know. Maybe we just haven’t found the abandoned buildings. We have three users, but so far they’re only talking gibberish.”

“I don’t suppose one of them was Slick?”

“Sorry. No.”

“Do you have any more thoughts on the Tabasco zombie?”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I think you need to know. They lifted Slick’s fingerprints off the deli container.”

It took a beat for me to catch my breath. “Do you still think it was a setup?”

“Yes. But I don’t know why. It doesn’t fit the user profile.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Be careful,” he said.

I stood and stuffed my phone into my jeans pocket. I had an idea about the setup and Slick. He was making a video. It had started as a documentary, but now maybe he was fabricating. Maybe it had turned too ordinary when it became just another drug story. Maybe he had to sensationalize it. Problem was, I didn’t know how far he would go to get good film. And I didn’t know if he was using the drug. Bottom line was that I had to find Slick.

“Gotta go,” I told my mom and Grandma. “I’m still looking for Zero Slick.”

“If you find him, I wouldn’t mind meeting him,” Grandma said. “He’s a real celebrity. He’s the Zombie Blogger.”

I felt my eyebrows lift halfway into my forehead. “How long has he been the Zombie Blogger?”

“Not too long. I started following him over the weekend. He’s got some good videos on YouTube, too. He’s making a real name for himself.”

“I’d like to see some of his videos,” I said.

“I got my computer on the dining room table,” Grandma said. “All you have to do is look for Zero Slick.”

I sat down, typed in his name, and there he was. The videos were all short. The cemetery during the day. Just scenery. The cemetery at night, badly lit, as if he was holding his cellphone camera with one hand, and a flashlight with the other. There were zombies in the night videos. Dirty, dull-faced creatures. Their gait was halting and stiff-legged. One of them fell into a pit that I assumed was an open grave. The camera cut away to another zombie sticking a needle into his arm.

More dark footage from inside one of the dirt caves. What appeared to be part of a head on a small table. Some surgical instruments also on the table. Sickening to look at given the atrocities of the past week. No sound with the video beyond some scraping and heavy breathing.

“He’s good at making horror movies,” Grandma said. “He has a real flair.”

I didn’t tell Grandma this was probably real. Better only one of us has nightmares.

The last two videos were my door with the words BRAINS and DIE scratched into it, and Morelli’s vandalized door. Two blurred figures could be seen very briefly staring at Morelli’s door. Morelli and me. I doubt anyone else would recognize us. The video had been shot from a distance, and the quality was poor.