Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(2)

“She’s in her sixties,” Connie said. “Vinnie’s been with her for a long time.”

“She’s in good shape,” Lula said. “She’s got excellent biceps. Must be from all that whipping she does.”

Vinnie was on his feet. “What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled at Lula. “Why did you tell them I was in my office?”

“You need to pay the ladies,” Lula said. “It’s not good to stiff service providers. And you better shape up, because Madam Zaretsky said she was going to your wife next.”

“Maybe if you two loser enforcers would actually make a capture I could pay the ladies,” Vinnie said. “It’s like I’m running a charity bailout here. How about if you stop snarfing those donuts on Connie’s desk and make a feeble attempt to haul in Victor Waggle. Is that too much to ask?”

“How about if I rearrange your face so your nose is in the back of your head?” Lula said.

Vinnie closed his door and slid the bolt.

“Who’s Victor Waggle?” Lula asked Connie.

“Failed to appear for court on Friday. High bond. Nutcase. Stabbed two people on State Street and urinated on their dog.”

“That’s a terrible thing to do,” Lula said. “It’s not nice to urinate on a dog. I hope that dog’s okay. What kind of dog was it?”

“Shih tzu,” Connie said.

“What about the people?” I asked.

“They’ll live,” Connie said.

“Motive?” I asked.

“Waggle said he was having a bad day.”

Connie handed his file to me, and I paged through it. Photo of a guy with crazy bugged-out eyes and punked-up hair. Twenty-three years old. Eye color red. Hair color black. Had a tattoo of a snake coiled around his neck.

“Did anyone else come in?” I asked Connie.

“Annie Gurky didn’t show for court on Friday. She’s a low bond. Shoplifting while drunk and disorderly. And Wayne Kulicki. Eat and Go shorted him on his fries, so he destroyed the place.”

“I’ve been shorted on fries there too,” Lula said. “It’s the drive-thru window. They always screw you over at the drive-thru window.”

Connie handed me the two additional files, and I organized all three in order of difficulty. I’d go after Annie Gurky first, Wayne Kulicki second, and hope Victor Waggle got run over by a truck before I started searching for him.

Vinnie popped out of his office again. “And don’t forget about the deli.”

“Deli?” I asked.

Vinnie narrowed his eyes at Connie. “Didn’t you tell them about the deli?”

“I was getting to it,” Connie said.

“Well, get to it faster,” Vinnie said. “It’s not gonna run itself.”

Vinnie retreated back into his office.

Lula and I looked over at Connie.

“You remember Ernie Sitz,” Connie said. “He skipped out on a racketeering charge last year.”

“He’s still in the wind,” I said. “The rumor is that he’s in South America somewhere.”

Connie nodded. “One of his many businesses was Red River Deli. He used it as collateral on his bond, and two weeks ago Vincent Plum Bail Bonds was awarded ownership.”

“Red River Deli,” Lula said. “It does a good lunch trade. It’s in one of them gentrified high-crime areas.”

Vinnie reappeared. He had his arms wrapped around a paper grocery bag, and he had a Red River Deli ball cap on his head.

“I got your uniforms here,” Vinnie said to Lula and me. “Aprons and ball caps.”

Lula leaned forward. “Say what?”

“Harry has decided he needs to diversify,” Connie said. “He’s not going to sell the deli. He’s going to keep it and run it.”

“I’m not seeing the connection,” Lula said.

“Harry wants to keep the businesses under one umbrella,” Vinnie said. “So, he’s made Stephanie deli manager, and you’re the assistant manager.”

“I don’t know anything about running a deli,” I said. “And when am I supposed to do this job?”

“The deli doesn’t open until noon,” Vinnie said. “It’s not like a grocery deli. It’s more of a restaurant deli. You’ve got a couple line cooks and a waitress who do all the work. You just have to keep things running nice and smooth. You start today. The keys are in the bag. Deli opens at noon, but the cooks come in at ten.”

“No,” I said. “I already have a job that I suck at. I don’t need another one.”

“Yeah,” Lula said. “Me too.”

“You’ll get five hundred dollars a week plus lunch,” Vinnie said to me.

I reached for the bag. “I’ll take it.”

“What about me?” Lula asked. “What do I get?”

“You get lunch,” Vinnie said. “You already draw a salary for doing nothing.”

“Works for me,” Lula said. “I like lunch. It’s one of my favorite things.”

I’m five foot seven with blue eyes, shoulder-length curly brown hair, and a body that won’t get me a job walking the Victoria’s Secret runway but is good enough to get me a boyfriend. Lula is two inches shorter than me and has a lot more volume. Much of the volume is in boobs and booty, giving her a voluptuousness that would be hard to duplicate with surgery. Lula achieved her voluptuousness the old-fashioned way. Pork chops, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, tubs of mac and cheese and potato salad, barbecue ribs, chili hot dogs. Her hair was magenta today. Her skin is polished mahogany. Her dress and five-inch stiletto heels are from her Saturday night ’ho collection and two sizes too small. The overall effect is spectacular, as usual.