Read Online 09 To the Nines by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online Page A

spotted Howie. He was working a register and he looked to be in his early twenties. He was dark-skinned and slim. Pakistani, maybe. I knew he was Howie because he was wearing a name tag. Howie P.
    “Yes?” he asked, smiling. “What will it be?”
    I slid a card across to him and introduced myself. “I'm looking for Samuel Singh,” I said. “I understand you're friends.”
    He went immobile for a moment while he held my card. He appeared to be studying it, but I had a suspicion his mind wasn't keeping up with his eyes.
    “You are mistaken. I do not know Samuel Singh,” he finally said, “but what would you like to order?”
    “Actually, I'd just like to talk to you. Perhaps on your next break?”
    “That would be my lunchtime at one o'clock. But you must order now. It is a rule.”
    There was a big guy standing behind me. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, scruffy cutoffs, and mud-clogged grungy boots.
    “Gripes, lady,” he said. “You think we got all day? Give him your order. I gotta get back to work.”
    Lula turned and looked at him and he moved to another register. “Hunh,” Lula said.
    “I must take your order,” Howie said.
    “Fine. Great. I'll have a cheeseburger, a large fries, a Coke, and an apple pie.”
    “Maybe some chicken nuggets,” Lula said.
    “No nuggets,” I told Howie. “What about Samuel Singh?”
    “First, you must pay me for your food.”
    I shoved a twenty at him. “Do you know where Singh is?”
    “I do not. I am telling you I do not know him. Would you like extra ketchup packets with this cheeseburger? I have extra ketchup packets to give at my discretion.”
    “Yeah, extra ketchup would be great.”
    “If it was me, I would have gotten some chicken nuggets,” Lula said. “Always good to have nuggets.”
    “You're not eating this, remember?”
    “Well, maybe I could have had a nugget.”
    I took my bag of food. “You have my card. Call me if you think of anything,” I said to Howie. “I'll try to stop back at one.”
    Howie nodded and smiled. “Yes. Thank you. Have a good day. Thank you for eating at McDonalds.”
    “He was nice and polite,” Lula said when we got back to the car, “but he didn't give us a lot.” She looked at the bag of food. “Boy, that smells good. I can smell the fries. Wonder how many points it would cost me to eat a French fry?”
    “No one can eat just one French fry.”
    “I bet supermodels eat just one French fry.”
    I didn't like the way Lula was looking at the bag. Her eyes were too wide and sort of bugged out of her head. “I'm going to throw this food away,” I said. “I got it so I could talk to Howie. We don't really need this food.”
    “It's a sin to throw food away,” Lula said. “There's children starving in Africa. They'd be happy to get this food. God's gonna come get you if you throw that food away.”
    “First off, we're not in Africa, so I can't give this food to any of those starving kids. Second, neither of us needs this food. So God's just going to have to understand.”
    “I think you might be blaspheming God.”
    “I'm not blaspheming God.” But just in case, I did a mental genuflect and asked for forgiveness. Guilt and fear remain long after blind belief.
    “Give me that food bag,” Lula said. “I'm going to save your immortal soul.”
    “No! Remember the supermodel. Have some carrots.”
    “I hate those fucking carrots. Give me that bag!”
    “Stop it,” I said. “You're getting scary.”
    “I need that burger. I'm outta control.”
    No shit. I was afraid if I didn't get rid of the bag Lula would squash me like a bug. I eyed the distance between me and the trash receptacle and I was pretty sure I could out-sprint Lula, so I took off at a run.
    “Hey!” she yelled. “You come back here.” And then she pounded after me.
    I reached the trash and shoved the bag in. Lula knocked me out of the way, took the top off the trash receptacle, and retrieved the bag of food.
    “This here's good as