Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(21)

“Um, is everything okay here?” one of the men asked.

“Yeah,” Hal said. “What’s up? You want a sandwich?”

They ordered and took a step back. A woman rushed in and went to takeout. She looked at Hal, rolled her eyes, and did a small head shake. Like, what next? Hal took her order and turned to help Lula.

Dalia seated a couple and put their order in. I stepped around to the register to look at the monitor. Nothing going on by the dumpster. So far, I didn’t recognize anyone as a repeat customer. A family came in. Mom and dad and two kids. They took a booth.

After an hour, everyone was pretty much looking the same. Men and women in rumpled suits, lining up for takeout. Families with restless kids looking for fast food. An occasional senior couple sometimes with another senior couple on a night out. No one looked like a killer or a space alien. Not a single Klingon in the room.

When someone complained about their sandwich, Dalia sent Hal to apologize, and that ended the sandwich dispute. Takes a special person to argue with a 250-pound guy packing a Glock.

It was almost eight o’clock when a man sauntered in and sat in a booth. I remembered him from yesterday. He’d come in at about the same time and ordered takeout. He was built like a bulldog and had short-cropped curly red hair.

“Who’s the big muscle man behind the counter?” the red-haired guy asked Dalia. “Is he the new manager?”

“No,” Dalia said. “Stephanie is the new manager.”

Red Hair looked over at me, and my heart skipped a beat. I forced a smile and gave him a little finger wave. He stared at me for a long moment before looking down at his menu.

So, here’s the thing. I’m not actually very brave. And I’m not skilled at solving crimes. Truth is, I have no business hanging myself out like this. And yet, here I am. Stephanie Plum, manager, sitting duck, idiot.

Dalia put her order in to the kitchen, and I pulled her aside.

“Who is the red-haired guy?” I asked.

“His name is Mike. I don’t know his last name. He pays with cash. Started coming in a couple months ago. He comes in late, and he always gets an extra side of slaw.”

Mike ate his meal, put some cash on the table, and left. I followed him to the door and watched him walk down the street. He turned at the corner and was gone from view. I ran after him, but by the time I got to the corner he’d disappeared. I waited for a few minutes to see if a car drove away from the curb. When no one did I assumed Mike lived in one of the row houses that lined both sides of the street.

I turned to go back to the deli and bumped into Wulf. He’d been standing inches behind me without my knowledge.

I yelped in surprise and jumped away.

“What the heck?” I said.

The sun was setting, and the whites of Wulf’s eyes were very white in the semi-darkness. His voice was soft when he spoke.

“Return to the deli,” he said. “Close up for the night, but don’t go out the back door.”

“Have you been following Mike?”

“No. I’ve been following you. We’re both on a mission, and you have a knack for unwittingly stumbling across your prey.”

“And we’re both looking for the same man?”

“It’s possible. It’s necessary for me to leave for a short time. Until I return you are on your own, so be very careful.”

Wulf stepped away and swept his arm out in a wide arc. There was a flash of light, some smoke, and he was gone.

“I hate when you do that!” I yelled after him. “It’s freaky.”

I stayed in place for several minutes, hoping to catch another glimpse of Mike or Wulf. Neither reappeared, so I walked back to the deli.

Raymond and Stretch were standing outside, smoking weed.

“It is good to see you,” Raymond said to me. “You left very abruptly and didn’t return, and we thought you might have fallen victim to the manager snatcher.”

“Why are you out here? Why aren’t you inside, working?”

“There are no more customers,” Raymond said. “We are on a mental health break. We will clean everything perfectly when we are sufficiently relaxed.”

I pushed through the door and found Dalia wiping down tables and Lula eating pie with Hal.

“This is a good job,” Hal said. “We don’t get pie at Rangeman. He doesn’t want us to get fat.”

Raymond and Stretch waltzed in, and we all got busy scrubbing down the kitchen. Almost an hour later, the kitchen was clean and Stretch had taken inventory and passed his list on to his vendors. Bags of garbage were lined up in the hall that led to the back door.

“Someone needs to take the garbage out to the dumpster,” I said.

“I’d do it,” Lula said, “but I don’t want to be on video being the garbage girl. It would be unflattering.”

“And I would do it, but I cannot lose my shoe,” Raymond said. “I must wear two shoes at all times.”

We all went to the back door. I opened the door, and we looked out. The parking area was lit by new floods installed by Rangeman.

Stretch picked up a garbage bag and flung it at the dumpster. It hit on the top corner and burst, spewing garbage onto the pavement. Two raccoons and a pack of rats as big as barn cats suddenly appeared and ransacked the mess. We all jumped back, and I closed and locked the back door.