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

diversified menu of services that includes off track betting, prostitution, and an occasional hijacking. It’s a very efficient operation since men can attend a viewing and grieve and get a BJ all at the same time.
    The four-car garage is detached and to the side of the funeral home. The hearse is usually parked in the driveway, so I assumed the garage was used to store miscellaneous items that fell off the back of a truck. It was close to four o’clock when Lula and I cruised by the funeral home, and there was no sign of activity. We’d arrived between the afternoon and evening viewing.
    I parked across the street, and we sat for a couple minutes scoping things out. No street traffic. No dog walkers. No kids on bikes. Lula and I got out and went to the garage and tried the side door. Not locked. I opened the door, and Lula and I stepped inside and looked around. No windows. Very dark. I flipped the light switch, closed the door, and looked around.
    Mortuary supplies were stacked on one wall. Everything from cocktail napkins to embalming fluid. A black Lincoln Town Car was parked in one of the middle bays. A flower car was parked next to it. Caskets lined the entire back of the garage. One of the caskets had the lid up.
    “I like the casket with the lid up,” Lula said. “That’s a first-rate casket. When I go I want to have a casket like that. I bet it’s real comfy for your eternal slumber.”
    She walked over to the casket, bent over it to look inside, and Ziggy popped up.
    “Eeeeeee,” Lula shrieked. “I got a cross! I got garlic! Lord help me!”
    “A man can’t even take a nap no more,” Ziggy said, climbing out of the casket.
    Lula pulled her gun out of her purse. “I got a silver bullet. Stand back!”
    “A silver bullet’s for werewolves,” Ziggy told her. “What time is it? Is it nighttime?”
    I looked at my watch. “It’s four o’clock.”
    “What are you doing here anyway?” Lula asked him.
    “I’m trying to sleep. It’s nice and quiet here. And it’s dark.”
    “Don’t the people who own the funeral parlor mind you sleeping in their casket?”
    “Actually, it’s my casket. I bought it a couple years ago. It’s very restful. I used to have it at the house, but it was freaking my sister out when she came to visit, so Georgie said I could leave it here.”
    “Even for a vampire you’re weird,” Lula said.
    “It’s not easy being a vampire,” Ziggy said. “I have to avoid the sunlight, and I have to find blood to drink, and I can’t even wear normal dentures. I had to have these made special. And there are expectations. Like sleeping in a coffin. And Ialways have to be on guard for people who want to drive a stake through my heart.”
    “That’s it,” Lula said. “A stake to the heart. I knew there was a way to kill you.”
    Ziggy sucked in air.
    “You already got the casket,” Lula said. “Nothing to worry about. It’s all good.”
    “No way are you putting a stake in me,” Ziggy said. “I’m not ready. You come near me, and I’ll suck out all your body fluids.”
    “Damn,” Lula said. “I got enough of the vampire cooties already. My teeth are growing, and I’m not happy about it. I had perfect teeth before you sucked on me.” She reached into her purse, grabbed her stun gun, and tagged Ziggy.
    Ziggy crumpled into a heap on the floor.
    “That was scary,” Lula said. “I like my body fluids. I wouldn’t look good without them.”
    “I don’t know which of you is worse. He’s not a vampire, and he’s not going to drain any of your fluids. The best he could do is slip a diuretic into your coffee.”
    “How am I worse?”
    “You’re full of baloney. You haven’t got a silver bullet or a stake. You’re making threats you have no intention of carrying out.”
    “Yeah, but we do that all the time.”
    True. “We should cuff him and load him into the Jeep before he comes around.”
    “What about the sunshine?”
    “He’ll be fine.”
    “Are you sure? And what about the screaming? I couldn’t take any more of that screaming. We need to cover him.”
    I looked around. Nothing. No drop cloths, sheets, garbage bags.
    “I know,” Lula said, grabbing his arms. “We’ll put him in his casket. Get his legs and help me heave ho.”
    “Caskets are heavy. We’ll never be able to get it into the Jeep.”
    “There’s a rolling casket carrying thing by the door. It’s what they use at funerals. It raises and lowers.”
    “Okay, but if it