Diesel closed the door, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Grilled cheese?”
“Now what?”
“You could have said I was smart or brave or trustworthy.”
“I was going to tell him you were hot, but I was afraid you’d think it was sexist and kick me in the nuts.”
“Grilled cheese is sexist!”
“I don’t suppose you want to make me some lunch. All this talk about grilled cheese is making me hungry.”
“I’ll only make you lunch because you’re so pathetic.”
I slapped together three peanut butter and olive sandwiches. I kept one and I gave one to Diesel and one to Carl.
“So is this a pity peanut butter sandwich?” Diesel asked.
“You have a problem with that?”
“Nope.” He looked at his sandwich. “It’s lumpy.”
“It’s the olives.”
“No shit.” He took a bite and sent me the smile with the dimples. “I like it. It’s a sandwich with a sense of humor.”
“Do you think Wulf is trying to control weather? Munch said Wulf was going to take over the world.”
“Sounds ambitious.” Diesel pulled the shopping list out of his pocket. “Ranger monitors the police bands. Ask him if WINK radio has had any transmitters stolen. I want to know how much of this list has been fulfilled. I’m going to the mall to see if I can find Solomon Cuddles. I’d like you to stay here and do some research on the list. See if you can identify local sources for the rockets and rocket fuel. Do not go out of the apartment. Do not
let anyone in. If Wulf shows up, call me immediately, and keep your door locked.”
“What if he pops in?”
“He can’t pop in, but he’s good with locks, so stay alert.”
I called Ranger and asked him to check on the transmitter, and I looked in the Yellow Pages for rocket fuel. None listed. I called Ranger back and asked him where I’d find rocket fuel.
“Solomon Cuddles would be the underground source for anything out of the box, rocket fuel included. There are a couple chemical plants in the Bayonne area that might also produce the components. I can check for you. I have the answer to your transmitter question. WINK hasn’t reported anything stolen. We called to double-?check, and they said nothing had been stolen, but one of their transmitters was damaged by freak lightning last night, and it’s being repaired.”
“Thanks.”
I couldn’t remember hearing rain last night. And everything seemed dry when I went out this morning. I wouldn’t have questioned the lightning strike, but the weather-?control seed had been planted in my head.
I dialed Lula. “I want to check something out at WINK, and I don’t want to go alone.”
“You called the right person. I’m bored to death.”
Stephanie Plum 14.5 - Plum Spooky
NINETEEN
WINK WAS IN a rattrap, cement bunker-?type building in a part of the downtown business district that hadn’t been included in the beautification package. The parking lot was surrounded by chain-?link fence, the gate controlled by a security guard. There was a dish and a couple antennae on the roof and a sign on the front of the building telling people they were at WINK.
I parked the Buick at the curb across the street from the lot, and we sat there for a half hour watching the building.
“What are we doing?” Lula said.
“Watching.”