Stephanie Plum - Finger Lickin' Fifteen Part 15

"It's like a cat was burning," Lula said. "I never actually smelled a cat burning, but if I did, it would smell like this. And do you think it's getting smokey in here?"

"Smokey?"

"Yow!" Lula said. "Your backseat is on fire. I mean, it's a inferno. Let me out of this car. Pull over. I wasn't meant to be extra crispy."

I screeched to a stop, and Lula and I scrambled out of the car. The fire raced along the upholstery and shot out the windows. Flames licked from the undercarriage and Vrooosh! Vrooosh! The car was a fireball. I looked up the street and saw the pea green VW lurking at the corner. The car idled for a few moments and sedately drove away. The car was a fireball. I looked up the street and saw the pea green VW lurking at the corner. The car idled for a few moments and sedately drove away.

"How long do you think it's gonna take the fire trucks to get here?" Lula wanted to know.

"Not long. I hear sirens."

"This is gonna be embarra.s.sing. This is the second thing we burned up this week."

I dialed Ranger. "Did I wake you?" I asked.

"No. I'm up and functioning. I just got a report that the GPS unit we attached to your car stopped working."

"You know how when you toast a marshmallow it catches fire and gets all black and melted?"

"Yeah."

"That would be my car."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I'm stranded," I told him.

"I'll send Tank."

_______

I WATCHED THE fire truck disappear down the street, followed by the last remaining cop car. What was left of my Escort was on a flatbed.

"Where do you want me to take this?" the flatbed guy asked me.

"Dump it in the river."

"You got it," he said. And he climbed into the cab and rumbled away.

"Guess you gotta be careful when you're going after someone who likes fire," Lula said.

I had a shiny new black Porsche Cayenne waiting for me. Tank had dropped it off, made sure I didn't need help, and returned to Rangeman. The car was one of several in Ranger's personal fleet. It was immaculate inside, with no trace of Ranger other than a secret drawer under the driver's seat. The drawer held a loaded gun. All cars in Ranger's personal fleet had guns hidden under the seat.

I remoted the car open, and Lula and I got in.

"Now what?" Lula said.

"Lunch."

"I like that idea. And I think we should take something to Larry on account of he's still working on your kitchen."

"It sounds like things went okay last night."

"One thing you learn when you're a 'ho is there's all kinds in this world. Bein' a 'ho is a broadening experience. It's not just all hand jobs, you know. It's listenin' to people sometimes and tryin' to figure out how to make them happy. That's why I was a good 'ho. I didn't charge by the hour."

"And Larry fits in there somewhere."

"Yeah. He's a real interesting person. He was a professional wrestler. His professional name was Lady Death, but he was one of them niche market wrestlers, and his feelings got hurt when the fans didn't like him in his pink outfits. So he quit, and he got a job as a fireman. Turns out he's a hottie, too. He likes wearing ladies' clothes, but he isn't gay."

We decided Larry was probably tired of chicken, so we got ham and cheese and hot pepper subs and brought them back to my apartment.

"Boy, that's great of you to bring me lunch," Larry said. "I'm starving."

He was still wearing the Dolly Parton number. It had a fitted bodice with spaghetti straps and a swirly chiffon skirt, and there was a lot of chest hair and back hair sticking out of the top of the dress. There was also a lot of armpit hair, leg hair, and knuckle hair. He'd accessorized the dress with heels and rubber gloves.

"I know this looks funny," he said, "but I like to feel pretty when I clean."

"Go for it," I told him. And I meant it. I didn't care what he was wearing as long as I was getting barbecue sauce removed from my walls.

My cell phone buzzed, and I recognized Morelli's number.

"I'm trying to find Lula," he said. "I called the office, and they said she was with you."

"Why didn't you just call her cell?"

"She's not answering her cell."

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"I need to show her a photograph. Where are you?"

"We're in my apartment."

"Stay there. I'm a couple minutes away."

"That was Morelli," I said to Lula. "He's coming here with a photograph he wants you to look at. He said you're not answering your cell phone."

"It's out of juice. I forgot to plug it in."

Five minutes later, I opened my door to Morelli. He looked at me in my Rangeman clothes, and the line of his mouth tightened. "Why don't I just lie down in the parking lot and let you run over me a couple times. It would be less painful."

"Been there, done that," I said.

The bright red splotches in my kitchen caught his attention. "Remodeling?" he asked.

"Pressure cooker full of barbecue sauce."

That got a smile. "Where's Lula?"

"Eating lunch in the dining room."

The smile widened when Morelli walked into the dining room and eyeballed Lula in her flak vest and Larry in his c.o.c.ktail dress.

"This here's Larry," Lula said to Morelli. "He's Mister Clucky."

"I'm a fireman full-time," Larry said. "Being Mister Clucky is my part-time job."

Morelli extended his hand. "Joe Morelli. Isn't it early in the day for a c.o.c.ktail dress?"

"I guess," Larry said, "but I stayed over, and this was all I had to wear."

Morelli cut his eyes to me. "He stayed over?"

"It's complicated."

"I bet."

"Are those pictures you're holding for me?" Lula asked. "You need to be figuring this out, because I'm gettin' tired of this kill Lula kill Lula bulls.h.i.t." bulls.h.i.t."

Morelli gave her the photos, and Lula flipped through them.

"This one," Lula said. "This guy with the bad haircut and a nose like Captain Hook. He's one of the killers. He's the one with the meat cleaver."

"That's Marco the Maniac," Morelli said.

"Oh s.h.i.t," Lula said. "I got a killer named Maniac. Where's my helmet? I need my helmet. I think I left it at the office."

"His profile finally popped out of the system," Morelli said. "He's from Chicago. Works as a butcher, but he makes spare change by chopping off fingers and toes of people who annoy the Chicago Mob. Mostly gets off on insufficient evidence, but did some time a couple years ago. I don't know how he's connected to Chipotle. I'm a.s.suming it was a contract hit, but we don't really know."

"You're gonna arrest him, right?" Lula said.

"As soon as we find him."

"Well, what are you doing standing here!" Lula said. "You gotta mobilize or something. Put out one of them APB things. I need all my fingers and toes. I got some Via Spiga sandals that aren't gonna look right if I only got nine toes. And what about the guy with the gun? Why don't you got a picture of him?"

"We're working on it," Morelli said.

"Working on it, my a.s.s," Lula said. "I'm gettin' the runs. I need a doughnut."

Morelli grabbed my wrist and tugged me to the door. "I need to talk to you alone," he said, moving me into the hall and down toward the elevator.

"I don't want to argue about Rangeman," I told him.

"I don't care about Rangeman," Morelli said, his voice cracking with laughter. "I want to know about the guy in the dress. What the heck is that about?"

"Lula exploded the barbecue sauce in my kitchen and didn't want to clean it up, so she told this cross-dresser he could wear her dress if he scrubbed the sauce off the walls and ceiling."

"And he spent the night?"

"Lula's guest."

"The crime lab got to her apartment first thing this morning. She can change out that door anytime she wants."

"I'm not sure she'll go back there. She's really freaked."

"From what I can tell, Marco is an animal with a very small brain. He's dangerous and disgusting but not smart. At the risk of sounding insensitive, Lula is a large target, and anyone else would have killed her by now."

"So you think she shouldn't be worried?"

"I think she should be terrified. If this goes on long enough, Marco is going to get lucky, and Lula is going to lose a lot more than a toe." He punched the elevator b.u.t.ton. "Is that Ranger's Cayenne in your parking lot?"

A small sigh escaped before I could squelch it. "I tried to capture Ernie Dell, but he torched my car and got away. Ranger gave me a loaner."

The elevator doors opened, and Morelli stepped inside.

"How close are you to catching Marco?" I asked him.

"Not close enough."

I returned to the apartment and finished my lunch.

"We should have got dessert," Lula said. "I don't know what we were thinking about, not getting dessert."

"You have to stop obsessing about food," I told her. "You're going to weigh four hundred pounds."

"Are you sayin' I'm fat? Because I think I'm just a big and beautiful woman."

"You're still beautiful," I said. "But I think the big big is getting a little is getting a little bigger bigger."

"That's a valid point," Lula said. She locked on to Larry. "Do you think I'm fat?"

Larry was deer in headlights. He'd already traveled this road. "Well, you're not too too fat," he said. fat," he said.

"Not too fat for what?" Lula wanted to know.

"For me. For this dress. I'm sure you look much better in this dress than I do."

"d.a.m.n right," Lula said. "Take that dress off and I'll show you. This dress fits me perfect."

Larry stood and reached for the zipper, and I clapped my hands over my eyes.