Explosive Eighteen: A Stephanie Plum Novel (Stephanie Plum Novels)

my car.”
    Get a grip, I told myself. It’s just a car. It wasn’t even a
good
car. That wasn’t the issue, of course. The issue was that I got outsmarted by a moron.
    I found a bench by the mall entrance and ate my ice cream. No way was I calling Ranger. It was too embarrassing. I couldn’t call Lula. She was sick. Connie was busy looking for a temporary office. I didn’t want to slow that process. If I called my mother, I’d get the
Why Don’t You Have a Nice Job in a Bank
lecture. I could walk, but it would take me all day, and I’d probably get hit by a truck on the highway. A cab would be expensive.
    I was sitting on the bench debating all this when Grandma and Annie Hart walked out of the mall.
    “For goodness sakes,” Grandma said, spotting me. “Are you sitting here waiting for a criminal?”
    “More or less,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
    “Annie took me shopping to get bowling shoes, on account of I got my Social Security check.”
    Grandma drove with a lead foot and had lost her licenseseveral years back after racking up a bunch of speeding tickets. So Grandma was now dependent on other, more sane drivers for transportation.
    “I’m having car problems,” I said. “Can I hitch a ride with you?”
    “Of course,” Annie said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you anyway.”
    “What’s it this time?” Grandma asked me. “Did your car get blown up, smashed by a garbage truck, or stolen?”
    I followed them into the parking lot. “Stolen. Don’t tell my mother.”
    Annie’s eyes widened. “Did you report it to the police?”
    “Not yet,” I told her. “I’ll wait to see if it’s returned.”
    “This happens to her a lot,” Grandma said to Annie. “It’s no big deal. We got a extra Buick in the garage she can use.”
    We all climbed into Annie’s red Jetta, and Annie drove out of the parking lot onto Route 1.
    “I’m going to be smokin’ in these shoes,” Grandma said, opening the box, looking at her new shoes. “Next month, I’m getting my own ball.”
    “It’s important to have the proper equipment,” Annie said.
    “You should take up bowling,” Grandma said to me. “There are some hot men at the bowling alley. It could be just what a young divorcée like you needs.”
    “I have enough hot men in my life already,” I said. “In fact, I have one too many.”
    “You should make a decision,” Annie said. “I’m sure in your heart you know your true love. Just go with your heart.”
    It wasn’t that easy. My heart was confused. My brain didn’t want either of the men in my life. And my hooha wanted both of them!
    “I could make a potion up for you that would simplify everything,” Annie said.
    “Thanks,” I said, “but I’d rather not get involved with potions.”
    “They’re perfectly safe,” Annie said. “We’re very high tech in our potion making now. I’m even a member of the APMA. American Potion Makers Association.”
    “Maybe I should take up making potions,” Grandma said. “I’ve been thinking about coming out of retirement. Potions might be a good business to get into. How do you join that APMA?”
    “You can join online,” Annie said. “Just go to their website.”
    “Is it just love potions?” Grandma wanted to know. “Or can you make all kinds of potions?”
    “I specialize in love potions,” Annie said. “But potions can solve a wide range of issues.”
    “I’ll have to think about it,” Grandma said. “I want to have a good specialty.”
• • •
    By the time Grandma and I got dropped off at my parents’ house, it was after five o’clock, and I could smell chicken frying all the way out to the street. My original intention had been to zip into the house, get the key to the Buick, and track down Buggy. Now that I was smelling my mom’s fried chicken, I was having second thoughts. I could stay for dinner and go after Buggy later. In fact, the heck with capturing Buggy today. Better to go after him tomorrow with a fully charged stun gun.
    Grandma hustled into the house and went straight to the kitchen. “We found Stephanie at the mall,” she said to my mother. “She’s going to have dinner with us.”
    My mother was at the stove, turning pieces of chicken in her big fry pan. “I’m trying a new recipe. I found it in a magazine. And there’s mashed potatoes and green beans. And before I forget, there were two men here looking for you. They said they were FBI.”
    My heart stopped beating