Fearless Fourteen: A Stephanie Plum Novel

by Janet Evanovich

  “How’s Tank doing?”

  “He’s confused. If this goes on much longer, I might have to kill Lula.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Ranger didn’t answer.

  “Right?” I asked him again.

  He hooked an arm around my neck, pulled me to him, and kissed me on the top of my head. “I’m kidding. But it is tempting.”

  “So what’s going on out there? Bomb threats? Animal rights activists? Stalkers? Women against boobs?”

  “No bomb threats. All the other crazies are in full force. Never have a rock concert on a full moon.”

  “How were ticket sales?”

  “She sold out. Not a lot to do in Trenton this week. And Brenda still has a lot of fans. Mostly your parents’ generation.”

  Truth is, I liked Brenda’s music. She had a brassy way of combining country and rock, and she could really belt it out when she wanted. At least, that was true of her last album, but that was a bunch of years ago. I suspected that, in spite of all her efforts, she wasn’t capturing the kids. And the kids were the ones who spent money on music. The kids bought sex, and Brenda was good, but she wasn’t sexy to a sixteen-year-old. Even the Stones were struggling with that . . . and they were the Stones!

  Brenda spotted Ranger and blew him a kiss.

  “Sorry,” I said to Ranger, “you can’t kill her, either.”

  “I’m getting nervous,” Brenda said. “I’m gonna throw up. I need a drink. I need a pill. Somebody get me something.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Nancy told her.

  “I need a pill.”

  “Last time you took a pill before a performance, you fell off the stage.”

  “Yes, but it was a lot of pills on that occasion.”

  Lula stood hands on hips. “You don’t need no pills,” she said. “You’re a professional. Get a grip on yourself.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” Brenda said. “I had a chili dog for dinner. Suppose I fart?”

  “You’re in Trenton. No one would notice a fart,” Lula said.

  _______

  AFTER THE CONCERT, we immediately hustled Brenda off the stage, through the maze of corridors, out the door to the secure lot.

  “I was hot,” Brenda said. “I remembered all the words to the songs. And I didn’t knock any of the dancers down.”

  “You were great,” Nancy said. “The concert was fabulous.”

  We wedged Brenda into the SUV’s backseat between Ranger and me. Nancy and Lula were behind us. We rolled out of the lot with a police escort. We didn’t need the police, but the concert promoter wanted the flashing lights.

  “So what about it?” Brenda asked Ranger.

  “No,” Ranger said.

  “I swear, you aren’t any fun at all. What’s the deal with you? I know you aren’t gay. You aren’t nice enough to be gay.”

  The caravan pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel and photographers rushed out to take pictures. Local television was inside, plus a handful of journalists. And scattered in the mix were random fans and special-interest protestors hoping to get a spot on the evening news. Ranger got out first, then Brenda, and then the rest of us. Brenda posed for photos and made her way through the big glass doors into the lobby. The local anchor was waiting for an interview. Brenda stepped up to the anchor, and the circle of fans and photographers closed in.

  “We need space,” the anchor said.

  “I’m on it,” Lula told her. “You people better back up, or I’m gonna sit on you. Oops, did I step on your foot with my high heels? ’Scuse me. Sorry I got you with my elbow. Coming back. Beep, beep, beep. I got a gun . . . you better listen to me.”

  “Do you really have a gun?” the anchor asked.

  “Sure I got a gun. What kind of half-assed security would I be without a gun? ’Course, I’m just moonlighting here for a friend. Stephanie and me are mostly bounty hunters. And I sing with a band. You might want to have me on your show sometime. I got moves.” Lula snapped her fingers and stuck out a hip. “Woo!” she said.

  Ranger had me by the back of my jacket. “Get her out of here before she tells them she works for me. I’ll get Hal to help me with Brenda.”

  I PARKED IN front of Morelli’s house, and Morelli pulled in behind me.

  “That was great,” Zook said. “Everyone at school’s gonna be way jealous. And Joe used the Kojak light to get us through traffic.”

  Morelli opened the front door, and Bob bounced out at us. He ran to a patch of wilted grass, tinkled, and ran back inside the house.

  I followed Bob through the house to the kitchen. I gave Bob a dog biscuit, and I looked in the freezer for ice cream. Hooray! A new tub of chocolate.

  Morelli and I sat at the little kitchen table and ate our ice cream. Zook took his into the living room and went online.

  “Do you think he should be online at this hour?” I asked Morelli. “It’s a school night.”

  “When I was his age, I was stealing cars at this time of the night, and you were sneaking out your parents’ bathroom window.”

  “Yeah, but we’re on the other side now. We’re supposed to be smarter than Zook.”

  “I just spent half a day with him, and I’m not sure I’m smarter. And I’m not sure I feel comfortable being on the other side. It’s like I fast-forwarded my life by fifteen years.”

  “He’s not here,” Zook said from the living room.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The griefer. Moondog. He’s always here, but now he’s not.”

  “Maybe you and Grandma scared him off.”

  The doorbell rang, and Morelli and I did raised eyebrows. It was late for someone to be visiting.

  Morelli went to the door, and I trailed behind. With the way things were going, it could be Dom or Loretta or a cop with bad news.

  Morelli opened the door, and we both gaped at the guy on the porch. He was my age and just under six feet tall, with shoulder-length, light brown hair, parted in the middle. He was slim and pale, dressed in baggy jeans and a Fruits Basket T-shirt.

  “I’m looking for Zook,” he said.

  I switched the porch light on and stared out at him. “Mooner?”

  He squinted back at me. “Stephanie Plum?” He turned his attention to Morelli. “And the dude! Whoa, this is too heavy. What’s going on? You aren’t Zook, are you?”

  I’d gone to high school with Walter MoonMan Dunphy. MoonMan was the class stoner and voted most likely to get adopted by a little old lady. He drifted in and out of people’s lives, happy to get the occasional bowl of ice cream or cat kibble. He used to live with two other losers on Grant Street, but last I heard he’d moved back home with his mother.

  “I’m Zook,” Mario said from the couch.

  Mooner looked in at him. “The little dude is Zook. I can dig it. It’s always a little dude.”

  “Who are you?” Zook asked.

  “I’m Moondog.”

  “No way!”

  “Way, man,” Mooner said. “I hacked this address. I wanted to see what you looked like. Man, you’re harsh. I was having a good run, and you rained on my parade. You and Scorch. I’m, like, all bummed now.”

  “It’s not like we finished you off,” Zook said.

  “Dude, it was only a matter of time. And Scorch is an animal. Scorch comes on, and I can smell sulfur.”

  “So, you’re the griefer,” Morelli said. “How’d that happen?”

  Mooner shrugged. “Destiny, dude.”

  “What are you going to do now?” Zook asked Mooner. “You still have a powerful PC.”

  “Yeah, but not as powerful as yours. You could go all the way. You could be the Mega Mage of wizards. You could rule Minionfire.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yeah, but you’d have to make a deal with the wood elves.”

  “I don’t like the wood elves.”

  “They’re okay. They’re misunderstood.”

  “Maybe we could form an all
iance, and then you could deal with the wood elves,” Zook said.

  “An alliance would be cool,” Mooner said. “We’d need an awesome name . . . like the Legion of Q.”

  “What’s Q?” Zook asked.

  “It’s everything. It’s the big Q. It’s, like . . . wind, man.”

  Mooner dragged his backpack in from the front porch and took his laptop out. “I’ll send a pigeon to the king of the wood elves.”

  “You’re going to need a drug test before you run an alliance from my house,” Morelli said to Mooner.

  “Hey, I’m clean. Swear to God. You gotta be sharp to be a griefer of my magnitude.”

  We let Mooner send a pigeon, and then we kicked him out, and we all went to bed.

  I was so relieved to be off the Brenda job that I fell asleep instantly and slept like the dead. I didn’t wake up until Morelli kissed me good-bye the next morning.

  “I set the alarm,” he said. “You can’t oversleep today. You have to get Zook off to school.”

  I listened to his tread on the stairs and heard the front door open and close. And then two shots from a highpowered rifle shattered the early morning quiet. I flew out of bed and ran to the window. Morelli’s SUV was still at the curb, but I didn’t see Morelli. I grabbed some clothes off the floor, rammed myself into them, and ran to the stairs. I was halfway down the stairs when I realized Morelli was back in the house, in the foyer, talking on his cell phone.

  “What the heck was that?” I asked him. “Are you okay?”

  Morelli slid his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, I’m okay. That was crazy Dom. I saw him. He stepped right out where I could see him and opened fire on me! I don’t know if he’s a lousy shot or if he just meant to scare me. Anyway, he fired two rounds and took off. I called it in to dispatch. If he stays in that same car, there’s a good chance someone will pick him up.”

  I looked up the stairs. No sign of Zook.

  “I guess the Legion of Q isn’t bothered by gunfire,” Morelli said. “He probably sleeps wearing earbuds hooked to his computer so he can listen for the wood elves.”

  I DROPPED Zook off at school and went home to my apartment. I gave Rex fresh water, a bowl of hamster crunchies, and a potato chip. He rushed out of his soup can, twitched his whiskers at me, stuffed the potato chip into his cheek pouch, and scurried back into his soup can. It’s easy to have a decent relationship with a hamster. So little is required.

  I took a shower and changed into clean clothes. No more Rangeman black. That job was done. I was about to get a pot of coffee going when Connie called.

  “You need to come to the office,” she said. “We have a situation.”

  “What does that mean? What’s a situation?”

  “You have to see for yourself.”

  I locked up my apartment and went down to the lot to the Zook car. I checked the sky. No clouds. That meant no rain. The paint wouldn’t get washed away again today. When I picked Zook up from school, I was going to make him wash my car. And then I’d have him scrub my mom’s door and sidewalk.

  Ten minutes later, I cruised by the office. Lula’s Firebird was parked curbside behind a black stretch limo and a TV news van. Just keep driving, I told myself. This smells like Brenda.

  I was two blocks away when my phone rang.

  “We saw you drive by,” Connie said.

  “Maybe it wasn’t me.”

  “How many cars have Zook written all over them?”

  “I couldn’t find a parking place.”

  “There’s lots of parking. Lula’s outside waiting for you to turn around. If you don’t turn around, she’s going to get in her car and come after you.”

  “I’m pretty sure I could lose her.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. She’s really motivated.”

  I hung up, hooked a U-turn, and parked in front of the limo.

  Lula came running. “Hurry up!” she yelled at me. “Everybody’s inside waiting for you!”

  She was dressed entirely in black leather. High-heeled stiletto boots, short black leather skirt, black leather bustier, and a black leather bomber jacket that had CRIME BUSTERS stitched in gold on the back. If you were a guy and you ordered a dominatrix by the pound, Lula would be a wet dream come true.

  I got out of the Zookmobile and followed Lula into the office. Brenda was there with her hair teased up. She was dressed in tight black leather pants and a black leather vest. Nothing under the vest but Brenda. Nancy was with her, plus a man and a woman I didn’t know. A camera crew sat slouched on the couch, their equipment at their feet.

  “What’s up?” I asked, not actually wanting to hear the answer.

  “This is Mark Bird and his producer, Jenny Walen,” Nancy said. “Some suit at Fox was watching the local feed last night and got the brilliant idea of teaming Brenda up with you and Lula on a bust for a Sunday-night special. Mark is going to run point with it.”

  I put my finger to my eye to stop the twitching. “Don’t we already have enough bounty hunter shows on television?”

  “Not with Brenda,” Mark said. “I think we could really get ratings with this. It would be a cross between Dog the Bounty Hunter and Paris Hilton’s The Simple Life.”

  Eeek!

  “Trouble is, you’re not dressed the part,” Lula said to me. “You gotta be in black leather.”

  “I’m not wearing black leather,” I told her. “And you shouldn’t, either. You look like an S&M ad.”

  “This is bounty hunter clothes,” Lula said. “All the bounty hunters on television wear clothes like this.”

  I pressed my finger harder against my eyeball. “First off, no real bond enforcer dresses like that. It’s like announcing, Here comes the bounty hunter. And second, my mother would have a heart attack if she saw me in that getup.”

  “Yeah, but you’re always giving your mother a heart attack,” Lula said. “And anyways, you haven’t seen the best part. They had jackets made for us. And they got the show’s name on the back and our names on the front. It’s like we’re Charlie’s Angels.”

  “For crissake,” Brenda said to me. “You’re a bounty hunter. Buy into the stereotype and get it over with. And here’s something to consider. I’m getting a crack at reality TV, and I’ll kick your ass from here to kingdom come if you screw it up for me.”

  “I think you should ask Ranger to do this,” I said to Nancy. “He’d be a better partner for Brenda.”

  “We already asked him, and he turned it down,” Brenda said.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” I said to Connie.

  “They called Vinnie last night, and he thinks it’s a great idea. It’s out of my hands.”

  “Can I discuss this with you in private?” Lula said to me. “Would you step into my office behind the building for a moment?”

  I followed Lula past the bank of file cabinets and through the storeroom to the back door. We stepped outside and stood on the small patch of blacktop that was allocated as emergency parking . . . an emergency usually being when someone is trying to collect money from Vinnie and he doesn’t want his car to be seen in front of the agency.

  “This here’s my big opportunity,” Lula said. “I could get discovered. I could have my own reality TV show with Brenda. Even my horoscope said I was gonna look to new horizons today.”

  “This is a disastrous idea! Think about it. We’re like Lucy and Ethel out there. We never know what the heck we’re doing. And now we’re going to drag Brenda around with us? And it’s going to be documented. Remember when that mop fell out of the closet and you thought it was a snake? Do you want that picture to go into a million homes?”

  “Maybe not that picture.”

  “And what about the time you fell in the grave and couldn’t get out and freaked?”

  “Yeah, but anyone would have. I figure we just have to pick a good bust. Like the old naked guy would have been okay.”

  “You can’t put an old naked guy on national television. Anyway, we already brought him in.�
��

  “Connie said she had something we could use. And besides being my big break, they’re gonna pay us.”

  That caught my attention because I needed a new car . . . bad. “How much?”

  “A couple thousand. And they thought we’d only have to do two days of filming.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it, but I’m not dressing in black leather.”

  “You’re gonna be sorry. You’re gonna look like a amateur. You’re not gonna fit in with Brenda and me. You should at least wear the jacket.”

  “Fine. I’ll wear the jacket.”

  Lula hustled back inside. “We’re ready to roll. We just cleared our schedule for you. And Stephanie’s all excited about wearing the jacket.”

  “What have you got?” I asked Connie.

  “Susan Stitch. Just came in. She had a fight with her boyfriend and tried to leave, but he climbed onto the roof of her SUV and wouldn’t get off, so she drove him to Princeton. Actually, she didn’t quite make Princeton. The police finally stopped her on Route 1 about a half mile from the interchange.”

  “Jeez,” I said. “Was he hurt?”

  “Not from the ride, but he sort of flew off the car when Susan stopped short, and then she kind of ran over him.”

  “Kind of?”

  “He tried to scramble to his feet, but she gunned the car and clipped him in the leg.”

  “She sounds dangerous,” Lula said. “We want to make sure we’re packin’.”

  “No! No packing,” I said. “No packing anything. This is a domestic disturbance.”

  “Sure. I know that,” Lula said.

  “Why did she miss her court date?” I asked Connie. “Did you call her?”

  “She said she forgot, and she said she was sorry. So it should be an easy pickup. She lives on Bing Street in North Trenton. It’s a small apartment building. She’s in apartment 212.”

  “You see,” I said to Lula. “She’s sorry. We don’t want to overreact with this woman.”

  “This sounds like it’s going to be boring,” Brenda said. “I think we should hunt down a rapist or something.”

  “Gee, sorry,” I said. “There aren’t any of those around right now, right, Connie?”

  “Yeah, we already caught all the rapists.”