12bis Plum Lovin' by Janet Evanovich Read Free Book Online Page B

Beaner. He attacked a woman in a diner two blocks from Ernie's Bar. My source said
     
    Beaner went in for breakfast, saw this woman, and went nuts on her because she resembled his wife."
     
    "Jeez. What did he do to her? Is she going to be all right?"
     
    "Shell recover, but it won't be fun." Diesel headed for the center of the city. "I know Beaner is living in the neighborhood around Ernie's. I placed him there a week ago, but I can't get a fix on him. I thought we'd go over and walk around. See if I get a vibe."
     
    I looked back at Bob. "It's freezing. I can't leave Bob sitting in the cold SUV all afternoon."
     
    Diesel hooked a left at the intersection. "We'll drop him off at your apartment. Lock him in your bathroom, so he doesn't eat your couch. Your bathroom is nice and big. He'll be okay."
     
    The neighborhood around Ernie's is a residential and commercial mix. There are office buildings, condo buildings, brownstones, and small businesses like Ernie's Bar all in a jumble. Diesel parked in a lot, and we set out on foot with our collars turned up against the wind and our hands in our pockets to keep warm. We covered a grid of blocks a half-mile square, but Beaner didn't register on Diesel's radar.
     
    We ducked into a deli and got sandwiches and coffee for lunch, happy to be out of the cold.
     
    "This isn't working," I said to Diesel. "I vote we do it my human way and canvass the street, asking questions."
     
    "I'm human," Diesel said. "I just have a few extra skills."
     
    I finished my sandwich and coffee and stood. "You go north and I'll go south, and we'll meet back here at three o'clock."
     
    I started with the girl at the register in the deli, asking if she'd seen a guy with a raspberry birthmark on his face. Her answer was no. I went to the florist next door, the drugstore, the dry cleaner. No one had seen Beaner. I spoke to the doorman at a condo building and the receptionist at a high-rise office building. No Beaner. I went four blocks south, stopping people on the street. I crossed the street and worked my way back to the deli. No luck at all.
     
    By the time I met up with Diesel, wind-driven snow was angling down, stinging my face. Snow is picturesque in Vermont. In New Jersey, it's a pain in the ass. It slows traffic and makes walking treacherous. Dogs turn the snow yellow, and cars churn it into brown sludge.
     
    "Any luck?" Diesel asked.
     
    "None. How about you?"
     
    "Zip."
     
    I felt my cell phone buzz. It was Larry Burlew, and I could barely understand what he was saying. He was talking at warp speed and stuttering.
     
    "It's n~n-not working," he said. "I don't know what to's-s-say to her. She comes over with coffee whenever I wave, but I don't know what to say. What should I say? I just's-s-say thank you. I thought I could talk to her, but nothing comes out. I d-d-don't think I can drink much more coffee, but I can't stop myself from waving."
     
    "How many cups have you had?"
     
    "I d-d-don't know. I lost count. Twelve or fifteen, I think."
     
    "We're on our way," I told him. "Try to hang in there, and for God's sake, don't drink any more coffee."
     
Chapter 6
     
    Larry Burlew was pacing when we walked into the shop.
     
    "I don't feel good," he said. "I think I'm having a heart attack. My heart is racing. And my eye is twitching. I hate when my eye twitches like this. Maybe I need a cup of coffee to settle my nerves."
     
    "Put a coat on him and walk him around outside in the cold," I told Diesel. "See if you can get some of the caffeine out of his system."
     
    "Who'll take care of the shop?" Burlew asked. "I can't walk out on the shop."
     
    "I'll take care of the shop," I told him. "No one comes in at this time of the day. Don't worry about it."
     
    Five minutes later, a woman walked in and wanted a pork roast deboned and rolled.
     
    "I'm just the assistant butcher," I told her. "I'm not allowed to debone. The real butcher will be back in an hour, but I'm not sure he'll be fit