Read Online Smokin' Seventeen: A Stephanie Plum Novel (Stephanie Plum Novels) by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janet Evanovich
Ads: Link
plannin’.”
“Cracker might not be friendly to us if he knows we shot the toe off his brother-in-law, so we need to be cool.”
“Sure. I can be cool. What do you want?”
“I want a hot dog. Any kind is fine.”
The deli was small. Take-out service only. Two gangly kids in homeboy clothes stood at the counter, waiting on their order. Two men in food-stained, sweaty T-shirts worked in the kitchen. Both cooks looked like they weighed in the vicinity of three hundred pounds. Hot dogs boiled on the stove and grease ran down the walls from the fryer.
I hung in the doorway, watching my car, and Lula stepped up to the counter. “I want a chili dog, a kraut dog, a barbecue dog, and curly fries with extra cheese. And my friend wants a chili dog. And which one of you guys is Lionel Cracker?”
One of the men scooped four dogs out of the water and looked at Lula. “Who wants to know?”
“I want to know,” Lula said. “Who the heck do you think?”
“Do I know you?”
“It’s that I know your brother-in-law Merlin. He said you work here.”
Cracker laid out four hot-dog rolls on his workstation and dropped the dogs into them. “What else did he say?”
“That’s it. I used to be friends with Merlin, and I haven’t seen him in a while, and I was wondering how he’s doing?”
“He owes you money, right? What are you, collection agency? Human services?”
“We just came in for a hot dog and I was wondering about Merlin.”
Cracker laid down a smear of yellow mustard on all the dogs. “I could tell you’re lying. I know body language, and you’re a big fat liar.”
“To begin with I’m about the best liar you ever saw. If I’m lyin’ you’re not gonna know. And on top of that, did you call me fat? ’Cause you better not have called me fat. ’Specially since you’re one big ugly tub of lard.”
“That’s mean,” Cracker said. “You can kiss these dogs goodbye. I don’t serve dogs to fat mean, ol’ trash.”
Lula leaned over the counter to get into his face. “Fine by me on account of I don’t want your nasty dogs, but I don’t put up with no one disrespecting me.”
“Oh yeah? Well kiss my behind.”
And Cracker mooned her.
Lula grabbed the mustard dispenser and blasted Cracker in the ass with a double shot of mustard. Cracker scooped up a handful of chili and threw it at Lula. And after that it washard to tell who was throwing what. Hot dogs, buns, coleslaw, pickles, ketchup, relish, sauerkraut were flying through the air. Lula was batting them away with her purse, and I was trying to pull her through the door.
“Let go,” Lula said to me. “I’m not done with him.”
Cracker dropped below the counter and popped up with a shotgun.
“Now I’m done,” Lula said.
We bolted through the door, jumped into the Escort, and I laid down rubber getting away from the curb.
I drove one block and turned off Stark. “You have to dial back on the fat thing,” I said to Lula. “You can’t go around shooting people because they say you’re fat.”
“I only shot one guy. The second was only mustard.” Lula swiped at some chili stuck to her shirt. “We didn’t get lunch. Where you want to go for lunch?”
“I’m going home for lunch, so I can take a shower and change my clothes. I feel like I’ve been rolled around in Giovichinni’s dumpster.”
Lula powered her window down. “One of us smells like sauerkraut. I think it’s you. You look like you got hit with a whole bowl of it. It’s stuck in your hair.”
Don’t for a moment think this is Bella’s work, I told myself. The pimple and the sauerkraut are coincidence. The
eye
is a bunch of baloney. Repeat after me.
The eye is a bunch of baloney
.
FOURTEEN
BY THE TIME I left my apartment it was mid-afternoon. My hair was clean and smelled only faintly of sauerkraut. I was in my usual uniform of jeans and T-shirt. And my plan was to stop at Giovichinni’s and get a sandwich for lunch and a piece of lasagna to
“Cracker might not be friendly to us if he knows we shot the toe off his brother-in-law, so we need to be cool.”
“Sure. I can be cool. What do you want?”
“I want a hot dog. Any kind is fine.”
The deli was small. Take-out service only. Two gangly kids in homeboy clothes stood at the counter, waiting on their order. Two men in food-stained, sweaty T-shirts worked in the kitchen. Both cooks looked like they weighed in the vicinity of three hundred pounds. Hot dogs boiled on the stove and grease ran down the walls from the fryer.
I hung in the doorway, watching my car, and Lula stepped up to the counter. “I want a chili dog, a kraut dog, a barbecue dog, and curly fries with extra cheese. And my friend wants a chili dog. And which one of you guys is Lionel Cracker?”
One of the men scooped four dogs out of the water and looked at Lula. “Who wants to know?”
“I want to know,” Lula said. “Who the heck do you think?”
“Do I know you?”
“It’s that I know your brother-in-law Merlin. He said you work here.”
Cracker laid out four hot-dog rolls on his workstation and dropped the dogs into them. “What else did he say?”
“That’s it. I used to be friends with Merlin, and I haven’t seen him in a while, and I was wondering how he’s doing?”
“He owes you money, right? What are you, collection agency? Human services?”
“We just came in for a hot dog and I was wondering about Merlin.”
Cracker laid down a smear of yellow mustard on all the dogs. “I could tell you’re lying. I know body language, and you’re a big fat liar.”
“To begin with I’m about the best liar you ever saw. If I’m lyin’ you’re not gonna know. And on top of that, did you call me fat? ’Cause you better not have called me fat. ’Specially since you’re one big ugly tub of lard.”
“That’s mean,” Cracker said. “You can kiss these dogs goodbye. I don’t serve dogs to fat mean, ol’ trash.”
Lula leaned over the counter to get into his face. “Fine by me on account of I don’t want your nasty dogs, but I don’t put up with no one disrespecting me.”
“Oh yeah? Well kiss my behind.”
And Cracker mooned her.
Lula grabbed the mustard dispenser and blasted Cracker in the ass with a double shot of mustard. Cracker scooped up a handful of chili and threw it at Lula. And after that it washard to tell who was throwing what. Hot dogs, buns, coleslaw, pickles, ketchup, relish, sauerkraut were flying through the air. Lula was batting them away with her purse, and I was trying to pull her through the door.
“Let go,” Lula said to me. “I’m not done with him.”
Cracker dropped below the counter and popped up with a shotgun.
“Now I’m done,” Lula said.
We bolted through the door, jumped into the Escort, and I laid down rubber getting away from the curb.
I drove one block and turned off Stark. “You have to dial back on the fat thing,” I said to Lula. “You can’t go around shooting people because they say you’re fat.”
“I only shot one guy. The second was only mustard.” Lula swiped at some chili stuck to her shirt. “We didn’t get lunch. Where you want to go for lunch?”
“I’m going home for lunch, so I can take a shower and change my clothes. I feel like I’ve been rolled around in Giovichinni’s dumpster.”
Lula powered her window down. “One of us smells like sauerkraut. I think it’s you. You look like you got hit with a whole bowl of it. It’s stuck in your hair.”
Don’t for a moment think this is Bella’s work, I told myself. The pimple and the sauerkraut are coincidence. The
eye
is a bunch of baloney. Repeat after me.
The eye is a bunch of baloney
.
FOURTEEN
BY THE TIME I left my apartment it was mid-afternoon. My hair was clean and smelled only faintly of sauerkraut. I was in my usual uniform of jeans and T-shirt. And my plan was to stop at Giovichinni’s and get a sandwich for lunch and a piece of lasagna to
Similar Books
