“She lost them when someone stole her purse at the mall last week,” Lula said. “I was with her. One minute, we were in the food court, eating pizza, and next thing, she didn‘t have no purse. Lucky she just paid for the pizza, and she had her wallet in her pocket, or she wouldn‘t have no credit cards.”
“Take what ever you need,” Connie said.
I got myself outfitted, and walked outside into the midday sunshine. A black Porsche turbo slid to a stop behind my Jeep, and Ranger angled out from behind the wheel and stood hands on hips, looking me over.
“Babe,” Ranger said. And he almost smiled.
Ranger dresses in black. The rest of him comes in varying shades of brown. Silky dark brown hair, light brown skin, and brown eyes that are more often than not hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. He‘s two months older than I am and years ahead in life experience. He‘s a security expert and part own er of Rangeman, a protective ser vices company located in a stealth town house in center city.
“Tomatoes,” I said by way of explanation.
“Do you need help?”
“No. But thanks for asking.”
“Diesel is back,” Ranger said.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I woke up with a migraine this morning.” Ranger picked a chunk of tomato out of my hair. “Word on the street is that you‘re looking for Munch, and Munch is looking for pure barium. And he‘s willing to pay serious money. There are a couple vendors who deal in this sort of thing. Solomon Cuddles and Doc Weiner. If you watch one of these guys, you might run into Munch. You can find Cuddles at the mall somewhere between the food court and the Gap. Weiner operates out of the Sky Social Club on Stark. Don‘t go in there alone. In fact, don‘t go in there at all.”
“Why would Munch want barium?”
“I don‘t know. It‘s commonly used in X-?ray imaging. And it‘s useful in making certain kinds of superconductors. I‘m sure it has other uses, but I‘m not a barium expert.”
A shiny black SUV rolled to a stop behind Ranger‘s Porsche. Tank was in Rangeman black fatigues behind the wheel, and Hal was next to him.
“I have to go,” Ranger said. “Try not to stand too close to Diesel. He has some bad enemies. You don‘t want to get caught in the cross fire.”
Stephanie Plum 14.5 - Plum Spooky
SEVEN
DIESEL OPENED THE door to my apartment before I had a chance to plug my key in.
“Did you feel my sensory imprint approaching?” I asked him.
“No. I was looking out the window, and I saw you pull into the parking lot. What‘s with the tomatoes?”
“Uncooperative FTA. I tried to take him down in a produce ware house.”
“If we put some mayo on you, I could eat you for lunch. Which reminds me… there‘s no food here.”
“That‘s because you and your monkey have eaten it all.”
“Hey, he‘s not my 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 ab
ove his head and gave me the finger.