Smokin' Seventeen: A Stephanie Plum Novel (Stephanie Plum Novels)

to drive me back to my car?” I asked him.
    “Yes, but it’ll cost you.”
    I raised my eyebrows a half inch. “Are we talking about sex?”
    Ranger lowered his shades and looked at me. “I don’t have to bargain for that, babe.”
    “Well then?”
    “I’d like you to look over the security system on a new account. I know how to design a system for maximum safety, but you’re better at recognizing elements women find uncomfortable.”
    “Sure. I’d be happy to check it out.”
    “I’m tied up for the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow after four.”
    • • •
     
    Mooner’s bus was parked in its usual spot on Hamilton Avenue. A squad car, the medical examiner’s truck, Morelli’s SUV, plus the CSI van minus its bumper were all parked in front of the bus.
    Ranger pulled the Porsche in behind the bus and left it at idle. “This lot is getting more traffic than the landfill.”
    “Do you have any theories on Lou Dugan?”
    “He was an interesting guy. Active in community affairs, had his finger in a number of unsavory businesses, had a wife who turned herself into a zombie, and his son is in his final year of residency at Johns Hopkins.”
    “You did some investigating.”
    “There isn’t a building here, but I still provide securityservices. I wasn’t able to turn up anything to indicate a connection between Dugan and anyone associated with the bonds office. That isn’t to say there’s no connection between the killer and the bonds office.”
    I looked at the bus, which was rocking back and forth. Probably the bear was dancing. “Do you want to see the dancing bear?” I asked Ranger.
    “Tempting, but I’ll pass.”
    I got out of the car, waved Ranger away, crossed over the crime scene tape, and joined Morelli. He was standing a few feet from a small red flag stuck into the ground. The M.E., the CSI guys, and Morelli were watching two men move dirt with picks and shovels. Peeking out of the pit was a patch of what might be gray suit material smudged with dirt and stuff I didn’t want to think about.
    “This doesn’t look good,” I said to Morelli.
    “There’s another body down there. Obviously buried after the fire because the building would have been over the grave site.”
    “Any idea who it is?”
    “Terry told me that Bobby Lucarelli, Dugan’s lawyer, disappeared at about the same time as Dugan. He’d be on my short list.”
    I made an effort not to use my crazy jealous voice. “Terry?”
    “Terry Gilman. Lou Dugan was her uncle, and she worked for him a couple years ago. Mostly doing bookkeeping.”
    “I bet.”
    “Yeah, it’s hard to tell what Terry works at. Not that I care right now. She’s cooperating with the investigation.”
    “I bet.”
    Morelli grinned down at me. “Are you jealous?”
    “I don’t trust her.”
    “How about me? Do you trust me?”
    I ran the question through my mind.
    “Well?” Morelli asked.
    “I’m thinking.”
    Morelli blew out a sigh.
    “Watch what you’re doing with that shovel,” the M.E. yelled to one of the diggers. “I don’t want this guy going in the bag in a million pieces.”
    A wave of nausea slid through my stomach. “I’m out of here,” I said. “Will I see you tonight?”
    “Yeah, but it’ll be late,” he gave me a quick kiss. “Don’t wait dinner.”

THIRTEEN
     
    LULA’S CAR WAS GONE, and so was Connie’s. Probably they were at the coffee shop. The bus had stopped rocking, so I figured either the bear had eaten Vinnie or else they were napping. Either way I didn’t want to get involved.
    I drove the short distance to the coffee shop and parked behind Lula’s Firebird. The coffee shop was across from the hospital and was classic Starbucks design except it wasn’t a Starbucks. Two leather couches and a coffee table had been positioned in one front window and a bunch of small bistro tables and chairs filled the other window area and ran down the side of the shop. Two women in scrubs were at the counter, ordering lattes. A curly-haired guy was at one of the tables, surfing the net on his laptop, and Lula and Connie had commandeered the couches.
    “How was the ride back with the bear?” I asked Lula.
    “As far as bears go, he’s pretty polite,” Lula said. “He didn’t growl at me or nothin’, but I don’t want to be around when he gotta go potty.”
    “I have some new information on Merlin Brown,” Connie said. “I ran him through the system and turned up a brother-in-law. Lionel Cracker.