14bis Plum Spooky by Janet Evanovich Page A

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?
    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.
    W E CHOSE TO watch Doc Weiner because the mall felt unwieldy. Too many people. Too much space, 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 titanium 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 badass 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, prostitution. 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,