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

asked.
    “Yuh.”
    Minutes later, he was out the door with his pie, walking toward his parents’ house.
    “I’m worried about them worms,” Lula said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve still got them.”

TWENTY-TWO
     
    “I DON’T KNOW how I could have thought I liked that idiot Buggy,” Lula said. “I tell you, you gotta be careful what you’re drinking these days.”
    I was cruising around the casino parking garage looking for a spot close to the elevator. I’d taken the time to lose Lancer and Slasher before driving south, but I still had to worry about Raz, and possibly others.
    I found something acceptable, and Lula and I took the elevator to the casino floor. I’m not much of a gambler, but I love being in a casino. I like the flash of lights, the bells ringing, the energy of the people, the theme park–fantasyland atmosphere. I’m willing to throw a small amount of money into the slots, but I have no illusion about winning. I can’tcount fast enough to play blackjack, I’m like death at a roulette table, and I’m the world’s worst poker player.
    “First off, I gotta play some slots,” Lula said, taking it all in.
    “We’re working,” I told her. “And you always lose all your money when you play slots.”
    “Yeah, but I feel lucky today.”
    “You always say that.”
    “It’s on account of I’m a positive person. My glass is half full. You’re one of them half-empty-glass people.”
    “Knock yourself out,” I said. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
    This was my first time in this particular casino. It was located at the far end of the boardwalk, and it offered no good reason why anyone should walk the distance. I wandered around, getting the lay of the land, paying attention to security. Like every other casino, this one had uniformed guards and plainclothes guys who stood flat-footed, eyes glazed over from tedium. An earbud plugged them into some central command, and the promise of a stiff drink at the end of their shift kept them from shooting themselves in desperation.
    I picked out a suit who looked like he’d rather be cleaning kennel cages than standing his shift, and I moved into his field of vision.
    “Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”
    “Slow.”
    “Yeah, not a lot of people here. I guess it picks up on weekends. I haven’t been here in a while. Lately, I’ve been going to the other end of the boardwalk.”
    “You and everyone else.”
    “I used to talk to one of the security people here. He was real nice, but I don’t see him here tonight. His name is Mortimer Lancelot.”
    “Morty,” the guy said. “He doesn’t work here anymore. Budget cuts.”
    “Bummer. What’s he doing now? Is he at one of the other casinos?”
    “No. None of the casinos are hiring. He went outside. I heard a rumor he got a job as a night watchman for one of the vendors. Real crap job. He was a senior guy here, too.”
    Progress!
    “So who hired him? What’s he guarding? Slot machines? Liquor? Vending machines?”
    “I don’t know. Are you interested in Morty?”
    “Just making conversation.”
    “I get off in a couple hours. We could make conversation then if you want.”
    “Sure. That would be great. I’ll be around.”
    I crossed to the other side of the casino and climbed onto a barstool. There were two guys working behind the bar. One was keeping the cocktail waitresses supplied, and the other was servicing the bar customers. At the moment, there weren’t a lot of bar customers. Mostly me. I ordered a Cosmo and smiled when it was delivered.
    “Not a lot going on,” I said to the bartender.
    He studied me for a minute. “You were looking for action?”
    “No. I was looking for an old friend. I used to work with this guy years ago, and someone told me he worked here now, but I don’t see him. Morty Lancelot.”
    “You’re about six months late. Morty and a bunch of others got caught in a budget crunch, and it was adios.”
    “That sucks.”
    “Yeah, they got rid of everyone at the top of the pay scale. I’m still here because I work for peanuts. Literally.”
    He took a little glass dish, scooped peanuts into it from a tub under the bar, and set them in front of me.
    “I used to have a more balanced diet when they had wasabi peas, but the peas got cut with Morty,” he said.
    “Do you know where Morty is now?”
    “I heard he got a job with Billings.”
    “What’s Billings?”
    “Food purveyor. I see the truck at the loading dock every morning when