Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(14)

“And that’s not all,” I told Rex. “Vinnie is missing. We both know he’s never been my favorite person, but as it turns out, I don’t feel good about something bad happening to him. The police are involved, but I don’t see them making much progress. I feel like I should be doing something to help. I’m a recovery agent. I’m supposed to be good at finding people.”

Rex looked doubtful at this.

“True, I’m not the world’s best recovery agent,” I said, “but sometimes I get lucky.”

I left Rex to enjoy his peanut, and I marched off to take a shower and change into clean clothes. Morelli wasn’t going to be happy, but I had to do the right thing. I was going back to the deli. I was going to try to find Kulicki and Vinnie, dead or alive. And I was going to be careful not to end up snatched, leaving a single shoe behind.

A half hour later I returned to the kitchen, took my S&W .38 out of the brown bear cookie jar, and dropped it into my messenger bag. It probably wouldn’t be effective against aliens from outer space, but it might be helpful against any psycho who wanted to ship me off to Bogotá.

I called Ranger and told him about my moral dilemma.

“Babe,” Ranger said. “Your intentions are admirable, but chances are good that you’ll die.”

“I’d prefer not to die. I was hoping you could help me by installing and manning some security cameras behind the deli.”

“No problem.” And he disconnected.

Ranger is a man of few words but lots of action.

Lula and Connie were already at the office when I rolled in.

“Any word from Vinnie?” I asked Connie.

She shook her head. “No. He hasn’t been home. No one’s seen him.”

“I feel real sad,” Lula said. “And I don’t even like him.”

“He could be okay,” I said. “The aliens could bring him back.”

“That’s true,” Lula said. “Sometimes people get returned after they’ve been probed. Ordinarily getting probed would be a traumatic experience, but Vinnie might like it. He could even come back in a good mood.”

“I have some time before I have to open the deli,” I said. “I’m going after Victor Waggle.”

“You sure you want to be manager again?” Lula asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”

“You must be in a serious frame of mind,” Lula said when we were in my car, pulling away from the curb. “You didn’t even take a donut out of the box on Connie’s desk. And that’s too bad since it might be your last donut before losing your shoe.”

“I’m not going to lose my shoe.”

“You carrying?”

“Yes.”

“Your gun got bullets in it?”

“No. I have to buy bullets.”

“That’s just pathetic that you haven’t got bullets. You’re gonna give the rest of us women a bad reputation. You can’t even protect yourself, much less stop a terror attack. Good thing you got me along.”

“Because you could stop a terror attack?”

“Hell, yeah. I’m ready to take them idiot terrorists down.” Hard to believe since Lula was the worst shot ever. She was known to miss a target at point-blank range. “Jersey is full of those idiots,” Lula said. “And we even got out-of-state idiots coming here. We got terrorists coming here from Connecticut and New York. You don’t hear much about it because we got excellent law enforcement and they thwart the attacks.”

“I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want to get too comfortable because those terrorists might be idiots but they’re sneaky idiots. It’s only a matter of time before one of them slips in and rampages Jersey.”

I knew I was going to regret asking, but I couldn’t help myself. “Why Jersey?”

“All us good citizens in Jersey got attitude. We got pride. We got brass balls the size of watermelons. We got rude hand gestures and loaded guns . . . most of us. It’s not like we’re a pushover state like California. If you want to make points and get extra virgins when you blow yourself up, clearly Jersey is the place to accomplish that, you see what I’m saying? It’s not like we’re easy.”

I sucked in a grimace. It was always frightening when Lula made sense saying something stupid.

“And now that I’m thinking about it, that’s probably the same reason the aliens chose a deli in Trenton to suck people up into their spaceship,” Lula said. “Us Trentonians are a challenge. And for the most part we got good taste in shoes.”

I handed the Waggle file to Lula. “I glanced at this briefly when Connie first gave it to me. I think he lives on Stark Street.”

Lula thumbed through the file. “Yeah, but he’s way at the end, just before the junkyard. You want to get bullets for your gun before you go there.”

I cut across the downtown business district and turned right onto Stark.

“Drop me off at the beauty salon on the next block,” Lula said. “I’ll run in and get you some ammo.”

“At the beauty salon?”

“Lateesha sells some merchandise on the side. She’s been around for a long time. I used to shop there when I was a ’ho on account of my corner was only one block away. She’s got a real good nail tech too.”