Stephanie Plum - Seven Up Part 19

"I lost it."

"b.i.t.c.h," Joyce said.

"Snot."

"Fat a.s.s."

"Douche bag."

Joyce whirled around and stormed out of the building. Next time my mother had chicken I was going to wish on the wishbone that Joyce got herpes.

The office was quiet when I got there. Vinnie's door was closed. Lula was asleep on the couch. Connie had Mary Maggie's phone number and Melvin's permission-to-capture paper ready.

"There's no answer at his house," Connie said. "And he called in sick from work. He's probably at home hiding under the bed, hoping it's all a bad dream."

I tucked the permission-to-capture into my bag and used Connie's phone to call Mary Maggie.

"I've decided I want to make a deal with Eddie," I said to Mason when she answered. "Trouble is, I don't know how to get in touch with him. I thought since he's using your car he might call you or something . . . let you know the car's okay."

"What's the deal?"

"I have something Eddie's looking for and I want to trade Mooner for it."

"Mooner?"

"Eddie will understand."

"Okay," Mason said. "If he calls in I'll pa.s.s it on, but there's no guarantee I'll be talking to him."

"Sure," I said. "Just in case."

Lula opened one eye. "Uh-oh, are you telling fibs again?"

"I'm bait," I said.

"No kidding."

"What is this thing Chooch is looking for?" Connie wanted to know.

"I don't know," I said. "That's part of the problem."

USUALLY PEOPLE MOVE out of the Burg when they get divorced. Melvin was one of the exceptions. I think at the time of his divorce he was simply too exhausted and down-trodden to conduct any kind of a search for a place to stay.

I parked in front of Selig's house and walked around back to the garage. It was a ramshackle two-car garage with a second-story, one-man, one-room ramshackle apartment. I climbed the stairs to the apartment and knocked. I listened at the door. Nothing. I banged on the door some more, put my ear to the scarred wood, and listened again. Someone was moving around in there.

"Hey Melvin," I yelled. "Open up."

"Go away," Melvin said through the door. "I'm not feeling well. Go away."

"It's Stephanie Plum," I said. "I need to talk to you."

The door opened and Melvin looked out. His hair was uncombed and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You were supposed to appear in court this morning," I said.

"I couldn't go. I feel sick."

"You should have called Vinnie."

"Oops. I didn't think of that."

I sniffed at his breath. "Have you been drinking?"

He rocked back on his heels and a loopy grin spread across his face. "Nope."

"You smell like cough medicine."

"Cherry schnapps. Someone gave it to me for Christmas." Oh boy. I couldn't take him in like this. "Melvin, we have to sober you up."

"I'm okay. Except I can't feel my feet." He looked down. "I could feel them a minute ago."

I steered him out of the apartment, locked the door behind us, and went down the rickety stairs in front of him to prevent him from breaking his neck. I poured him into my CR-V and buckled him in. He hung there suspended by the shoulder harness, mouth open, eyes glazed. I drove him to my parents' house and half dragged him inside.

"Company, how nice," Grandma Mazur said, helping me haul Melvin into the kitchen.

My mother was ironing and tunelessly singing.

"I've never heard her sing like that," I said to Grandma.

"She's been doing it all day," Grandma said. "I'm starting to get worried. And she's been ironing that same shirt for an hour."

I sat Melvin at the table and gave him some black coffee and made him a ham sandwich.

"Mom?" I said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course. I'm just ironing, dear."

Melvin rolled his eyes in Grandma's direction. "Do you know what I did? I urrrrrinated on the cake at my ex-wife's wedding. p.i.s.sssssed all over the icing. In front of everyone."

"It could have been worse," Grandma said. "You could have p.o.o.ped on the dance floor."

"Do you know what happens when you p.i.s.sss on icing? It gets rrrruined. Makes it all drippy."

"How about the little bride and groom at the top of the cake," Grandma said. "Did you p.i.s.s on them, too?"

Melvin shook his head. "I couldn't reach them. I only got the bottom tier." He put his head down on the table. "I can't believe I embarra.s.sed myself like that."

"Maybe if you practice you could get the top tier next time," Grandma said.

"I'm never going to another wedding," Melvin said. "I wish I was dead. Maybe I should just kill myself."

Valerie came into the kitchen carrying a laundry basket. "What's up?"

"I p.i.s.sed on the cake," Melvin said. "I was s.h.i.t-faced." And then he pa.s.sed out facedown in his sandwich.

"I can't take him in like this," I said.

"He can sleep it off on the couch," my mother said, putting the iron down. "Everybody take a body part and we'll drag him in there."

ZIGGY AND BENNY were in the parking lot when I got home.

"We heard you want to make a deal," Ziggy said.

"Yep. Do you have Mooner?"

"Not exactly."

"Then it's no deal."

"We went all through your apartment and it wasn't there," Ziggy said.

"That's because it's someplace else," I told him.

"Where?"

"I'm not telling until I see Mooner."

"We could hurt you real bad," Ziggy said. "We could make you talk."

"My future grandmother-in-law wouldn't like that."

"You know what I think?" Ziggy said. "I think you're fibbing about having it."

I shrugged and turned to go into the building. "When you find Mooner, let me know and we'll deal."

Ever since I've had this job people have been breaking into my apartment. I buy the best locks available and it doesn't matter. Everyone gets in. The scary part is that I'm starting to get used to it.

Not only did Ziggy and Benny leave everything as they found it . . . they improved on it. They did my dishes and wiped down my counter. The kitchen was nice and tidy.

The phone rang and it was Eddie DeChooch.

"I understand you've got it."

"Yes."

"Is it in good shape?"

"Yes."

"I'm sending someone over to get it."

"Hold on. Wait a minute. What about Mooner? The deal is that I'm willing to trade Mooner for it."

DeChooch made a derisive sound. "Mooner. I don't know why you even care about that loser. Mooner isn't part of the deal. I'll give you money."

"I don't want money."

"Everyone wants money. Okay, how about this? How about I kidnap you and torture you until you hand it over?"

"My future grandmother-in-law would put the eye on you."

"The old bat is a crackpot. I don't believe in that bunk."

DeChooch hung up.

I was getting a lot of fast action on the bait scheme, but I wasn't making any progress getting Mooner back. A big sad lump was sitting in the middle of my throat. I was scared. No one seemed to have Mooner to trade. I didn't want Mooner or Dougie to be dead. Even worse, I didn't want to be like Valerie, sitting at the table blubbering with her mouth open.

"d.a.m.n!" I yelled. "d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n!"

Rex backed out of his soup can and looked up at me, whiskers whirring. I broke off a corner of a strawberry Pop-Tart and handed it to Rex. He shoved the Pop-Tart into his cheek and returned to his can. A hamster of simple pleasures.

I called Morelli and asked him over for dinner. "Except you have to bring the dinner," I said.

"Fried chicken? Meatball sub? Chinese?" Morelli asked.

"Chinese."

I rushed into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved any legs so the stupid voice in my head wouldn't screw things up again, and washed my hair with the shampoo that smells like root beer. I rummaged through my lingerie drawer until I found my black lace thong underpants and matching bra. I covered the undies with my usual T-shirt and jeans and swiped on some mascara and lip gloss. If I was going to get kidnapped and tortured I was going to have some fun first.

Bob and Morelli bounded in just as I was pulling on socks.

"I've got egg rolls, vegetable stuff, shrimp stuff, pork stuff, rice stuff, and some stuff that I think was supposed to go to somebody else but found its way into my bag," Morelli said. "And I got beer."

We put everything on the coffee table and turned the television on. Morelli flipped Bob an egg roll. Bob caught it midair and ate it in one gulp.

"We've talked about it, and Bob has agreed to be my best man," Morelli said.