14bis Plum Spooky
see a penlight flick on, and moments later, it would flick off. Diesel could see in the dark, but not perfectly.
    “This is boring,” I said to him.
    “I‘m almost done.”
    “Are you finding anything helpful?”
    “He was planning on leaving the country. He had a suitcase packed, and his passport is out on his dresser. No travel itinerary. There are computer connections but no computer. And Wulf‘s been here. The place reeks of him.”
    “The crime lab might have taken the computer.”
    “It‘s possible. Or Wulf might have taken it.”
    Diesel wrapped an arm around me and steered me to the foyer and out the front door. We made a halfhearted attempt to reattach the crime-scene tape, but it had lost most of its sticking power, so we left it on the ground and scuttled back to my car.
    Halfway home my phone rang.
    “Carl‘s here,” Grandma Mazur said. “I went to answer the doorbell, and there he was on the porch looking all dejected.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “He‘s here in the kitchen, eating cookies.”
    “I‘ll be right there.”
    Thirty minutes later, Diesel walked into my apartment, went straight to the couch, and flipped the ball game on. Carl scampered up beside him.
    “Make yourself at home,” I said.
    “I‘m going to pretend that wasn‘t sarcasm,” Diesel said.
    “I don‘t suppose you have any chips?”
    I brought him a bag of corn chips and a jar of salsa. I took a chip for Rex and dropped it into his cage, along with a baby carrot. I put my mother‘s leftover bag in the fridge, and I shuffled back to the couch.
    “I‘m going to bed,” I said to Diesel. “Alone. And I expect to wake up alone.”
    “You bet.”
    I looked down at Carl. “And I expect you to behave yourself.”
    Carl did a palms-up and shrugged.

SIX
    I WOKE UP with a heavy arm across my chest. Diesel. I knew from past experiences that Diesel didn‘t fit on my couch and wasn‘t the sort of guy to tough it out on the floor, so I‘d taken the precaution of going to bed dressed in T-shirt and running shorts.
    Diesel shifted next to me and half-opened his eyes. “Coffee,” he murmured.
    I slithered out from under him, rolled out of bed, and stepped over the clothes he‘d left on the floor, including seafoam green boxers with palm trees and hula girls.
    I used the bathroom and shuffled into the living room, where Carl was watching the news on tele vision. I got the coffee going and fed Rex. I wasn‘t sure what monkeys ate in the morning, so I gave Carl a box of Fruit Loops. Diesel ambled into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee.
    “What have we got to eat?” he asked.
    “Carl‘s eating the Fruit Loops, so that leaves leftovers from last night, peanut butter, hamster crunchies, and half a jar of salsa. Looks like you ate all the chips.”
    “I shared with Carl.” He retrieved the leftover bag from the refrigerator and dumped it on the counter. Pot roast, gravy, green bean casserole. No mashed potatoes. He put it all on a plate and nuked it. “There‘s enough here for two.”
    I sipped my coffee. “I‘ll pass.”
    Diesel dug into the mountain of food and ate it all.
    “It‘s not fair,” I said. “You eat tons of food. Why aren‘t you fat?”
    “High rate of metabolism and clean living.”
    “What are you doing today?”
    “I thought I‘d hang out,” Diesel said.
    “You and Carl?”
    “Yeah.”
    Carl gave Diesel a thumbs-up.
    “Well, I‘m a working girl,” I told him. “I‘m going to take a shower and go catch a bad guy.”
    “Knock yourself out,” Diesel said. “If you get a line on Munch, let me know.”
    L ULA WAS ON the couch in the bonds office when I walked in. She was wearing a pink sweat suit and sneakers, and she was holding a box of tissues. She didn‘t have any makeup on, and her hair was somewhere between rat‘s nest and exploded canary.
    “What‘s up?” I asked.
    “I‘m dying is what‘s up,” Lula said. “I got the flu back. I woke up this morning, and I

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