Plum Spooky Part 7

"That's because you and your monkey have eaten it all."

"Hey, he's not my my monkey," Diesel said. monkey," Diesel said.

"Speaking of the monkey, where is he?"

"I think he's in the bathroom."

I heard the toilet flush, the bathroom door banged open, and Carl walked into the living room. He waved at me, climbed onto the couch, and remoted the tele vision on.

"Did you wash your hands?" I asked him.

He held his hands above his head and gave me the finger.

"He's not normal," I said to Diesel.

"And?"

"I need to take a shower."

"I'm going to use your Jeep to do some shopping. Do you want anything special for lunch?"

"Anything but tomatoes. My keys are in my bag in the foyer."

"Thanks, but I don't need keys."

A half hour later, I pulled my clean hair into a ponytail and dressed in jeans and a black V-neck stretchy T-s.h.i.+rt. Diesel was still out, so I checked in with Morelli.

"How's it going?" I asked.

"Would you consider getting married and moving far away from my family? Maybe France or Phoenix?"

"Not working out with your brother?"

"I'm locking my gun in my car when I get home so I'm not tempted to shoot him. He's an even bigger slob than I am. I've got empty beer cans all over the house, and he's only been with me for twenty-four hours. Last night, I took him bowling, and he hit on everything that moved and was remotely female. And by the time we got home, he was crying because he missed his wife. Crying! Crying! Then he watched tele vision until three in the morning and charged two p.o.r.n films on my cable account." Then he watched tele vision until three in the morning and charged two p.o.r.n films on my cable account."

"You need to talk to him."

"My brother? Are you kidding?"

"Is his wife showing any signs of reconciliation?"

"Not so far, but my mother said she'd make me a tray of lasagna and come over to clean my house if I kept him another day."

"Are you going to keep him?"

"Yeah, he's my brother."

"Call me when he leaves."

"You'll be the first to know."

The locks tumbled on my front door, and Diesel pushed his way in, arms wrapped around bags of food.

"Food shopping isn't my favorite thing," Diesel said. "I wouldn't do it for anyone but you."

"How do you eat if you don't shop?"

"People feed me." He pulled a couple subs out of a bag and tossed one to me. "Women think I'm adorable."

"Adorable?"

"Maybe adorable is a stretch."

I unwrapped my sub and took a bite. "I have a line on Munch. He's looking for barium, and there are only two vendors in the area. Solomon Cuddles and Doc Weiner."

"What would Munch want with barium?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't know anything about barium."

"It's a heavy metal. Hard to find in pure form because it oxidizes when it's exposed to air. That's all I remember from Chemistry 101."

Carl walked into the kitchen and did a gesture that said, What about me? What about me?

Diesel handed Carl a bag with apples, oranges, bananas, and grapes. "I got you fruit."

Carl looked at the fruit and gave Diesel the finger.

"Dude," Diesel said. "I've spent a lot of time in southeast Asia. Monkeys eat fruit."

Carl jumped onto the counter and pawed through the remaining food bags. He found a box of cookies and took it back to the couch.

"You'll rot your teeth," I told Carl. "You'll get diabetes."

"Do you know where to find Weiner and Cuddles?" Diesel asked.

"Yes."

He finished his sub and grabbed a banana. "Let's roll."

"What about Carl?"

Diesel looked in on Carl. "Are you okay here by yourself?"

Carl vigorously nodded his head and gave Diesel a thumbs-up.

WE CHOSE TO watch Doc Weiner because the mall felt unwieldy. Too many people. Too much s.p.a.ce, plus I couldn't see myself looking for a guy named Cuddles who was walking around dealing heavy chemicals out of a briefcase. watch Doc Weiner because the mall felt unwieldy. Too many people. Too much s.p.a.ce, plus I couldn't see myself looking for a guy named Cuddles who was walking around dealing heavy chemicals out of a briefcase.

Not that I was excited about staking out Stark Street. It was affectionately known as the combat zone, and it lived up to its name on a daily basis. In order to better fit in with the local atmosphere, Diesel was driving a black Cadillac Escalade with t.i.tanium wheel covers, dark tinted windows, and multiple antennae. I didn't ask where he got it. We were parked half a block down and across the street from the Sky Social Club, and we looked like your average contract killer/neighborhood drug dealer in our bada.s.s gas-guzzler.

"Do you know what Doc Weiner looks like?" Diesel asked.

"No. Does it matter?"

Diesel pushed his seat back and stretched his legs. "Just curious."

"What do you think goes on inside this social club?" Diesel looked across the street. "Business transactions, card games, prost.i.tution. The usual."

"Have you ever been in a social club like this?"

Diesel nodded. "They're the same the world over. They're grungy hangouts for crime families and their retinue of suck-ups and stooges."

"There are a couple social clubs in the Burg, but most of the men are recovering from hip replacements and are on oxygen."

"The golden years," Diesel said.

The Sky Social Club was housed in a narrow three-story building, squished between a butcher shop and a coin-op Laundromat. The front door to the club was wooden and weathered. The windows had blackout shades drawn. Overall, the appearance was grim.

Two young guys went into the club. Minutes later, one came out with a folding chair. He set the chair by the door, lit up, and sat down. An hour later, we were still watching, but nothing was happening. No one was going in, and no one was coming out.

"We don't need two people to do this. I should take off and watch the guy at the mall," I said to Diesel.

"Give me a break. You just want to go shopping."

I rolled my eyes so far into the top of my head I almost went unconscious, and I did a huge snort of indignation. This all in spite of the fact that he was right.

"You are so annoying," I said.

"I try my best."

"Tell me again why I need to sit here with you."

"If I stay here alone and Wulf shows up instead of Munch, he'll sniff me out and vanish. And then he might not come back, and we'll have lost our lead. The real question is why do I have to sit here with you you. I could be taking a nap in your nice, comfy bed right now."

"Good grief."

"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" Diesel asked.

"No."

He grinned at me and tugged at my ponytail. "I'm here to protect you so you don't get hurt in this bad neighborhood."

I didn't know how to react to this. I was sort of offended but at the same time grateful. And deep down inside, I knew it was bulls.h.i.+t. He was here hoping Wulf would show up.

"Did you buy that?" Diesel asked.

"Partially."

I slouched lower in my seat and watched the sidewalk across the street. A man came out of the bar at the end of the block and walked toward us, head down. His hair was braided and shoulder length. He looked to be in his late twenties. Slim. Average height. He was wearing work boots and jeans and a dirt-smudged T-s.h.i.+rt. He got even with us and picked his head up to check out a pa.s.sing car. Holy cow. It was Hector Mendez. He was in my dead file. He failed to appear for court six months ago, and I was never able to find him. And then someone said he was dead. Shot in a gang thing.

"I know that guy," I said to Diesel. "I looked for him for months and finally gave up."

I grabbed cuffs and pepper spray out of my bag, shoved them into my jeans pockets, and bolted from the car. Diesel asked if I needed help, but I hit the ground running. No time for small talk. I knew the instant Mendez saw me he'd take off. He was a small-time drug pusher who was constantly in and out of jail, and this wasn't the first time I'd chased him down.

I was halfway across the street, running flat out, when he spotted me. His eyes went wide, and it was easy to read his lips.

"Oh f.u.c.k," Mendez said.

"Stop!" I yelled. "I want to talk to you."

"Sorry," he said. "I gotta go. I'm in a hurry."

I never broke stride, and I had momentum, but he was a better runner. He had long legs and a lot of motivation. We rounded the corner, and he turned down a ser vice road that intersected the block. There were cars parked behind businesses and rooming houses. I saw a sign for the rear entrance to the Laundromat, and suddenly Mendez stopped short. I didn't bother to question his reason. I took a flying leap and tackled him, taking him down to the ground. We rolled around cussing and clawing, my knee connected with his gonads, and that was the end of the rolling around. I cuffed him and sprang to my feet, feeling like I'd just won the calf-roping compet.i.tion at the county fair.

"I'm gonna sue," Mendez said. "My privates are injured. This here's some kind of brutality."

I was breathing heavy, trying to get a grip, and then I saw the reason Mendez had stopped running. He'd come face-to-face with Wulf. At least, I was pretty sure it was Wulf. He was almost as tall as Diesel but not quite as solid. His hair was black and shoulder length, swept away from his face in waves. His skin was pale and unearthly, like moonlight reflecting off still water. He was shockingly handsome, and his face was disturbingly devoid of expression. He was wearing black dress boots, black slacks, and a lightweight black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He had an expensive watch on his left wrist. And he had a narrow black metal bracelet on his right wrist. He was standing beside a black Ferrari, and he was looking past me.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Diesel standing about twenty feet behind me, relaxed, looking amused.

"Walk away," Wulf said to Diesel.

Diesel shook his head no. His mouth still held the very small smile, but his eyes were hard.

Wulf moved close to me, wrapped his hand around my arm, and I felt a buzz of electricity run from his hand to my fingertips.

"Get in the car," he said.

"No."

"I could snap your neck."

"And I could shove your nuts into your small intestine with my knee."

This was absolute bravado on my part. It was one thing to sort of accidentally on purpose connect with Hector Mendez. Kneeing Gerwulf Grimoire would be a whole other ball game. He was flat-out scary, and he radiated power. And I was pretty much frozen to the spot. What I knew for sure was that it would be a huge mistake to get into the car. I was guessing women went into his car in a lot better shape than they came out.

"Release her," Diesel said.

Wulf's voice was low and silky. Wind whispering in the trees. "I won't tolerate interference in my business. If necessary, I'll destroy you and everyone a.s.sociated with you."

Diesel's posture was relaxed. No fear visible. "I have a job to do. Nothing personal, but I will will do it." do it."

"We'll take this up some other day," Wulf said.

He released my arm and stepped away from me. There was a blast of heat and a flash of fire, and when the smoke cleared, Wulf was gone. The car was still there.

Diesel was hands on hips, looking disgusted. He gave his head a small shake. "Mr. Hollywood."

"I didn't see nothing," Mendez said, still on the ground. "I don't know what just happened, and I didn't see it."