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

cars.”
    I got behind the wheel, locked my doors, waved good-bye to Dave, and drove out of the lot. I felt kind of bad leaving him standing there with his wine and his grocery bag, but honestly I didn’t know what else to do with him. He wasn’t paying attention.
    Grandma was waiting for me at the curb. She was wearing a cherry red dress with a matching jacket, little black heels, and a pearl necklace, and she was holding her big black leather purse. Grandma carried a .45 long barrel, and it didn’t fit into a more dainty purse. Her lipstick matched her dress, and her hair was perfectly curled.
    I pulled up next to her, and she got in.
    “This is a beaut of a car,” she said, buckling her seat belt. “I bet this car belongs to Ranger.”
    “Yep.”
    “It’s a shame he doesn’t want to marry you. He’d get my vote. He’s sexy as all get out, and he’s got badass cars.”
    “Do you like him better than Dave?”
    “Don’t get me wrong. I like Dave okay, but I’d take sex overcooking any day of the week. You can buy a burger, but it’s not every day you find a man with a package like Ranger. And I’m not talking about what you’re thinking, although I noticed, and it looks pretty good. I’m talking about the
whole
package from his sideburns on down. He’s hot. And I think he’s smart. He’s made a success of himself.”
    “He has baggage,” I said. “He’s not willing to take on more.”
    “Then I guess I’d go with the guy who can cook.”
    “What about Morelli?”
    “He’s okay. He’s hot, too, but I don’t see you making much progress there.”
    I pulled into the funeral home lot, but there were no spaces left. I let Grandma out and found a parking place a block away. Everyone was here to see Lou Dugan. I walked back to the funeral home and made my way through the crush of people on the porch, through the open doors, and into the lobby. I worked my way through the crowd, head down to minimize social contact, breathing shallow to minimize the smell of funeral flowers and senior citizens.
    Someone snagged my elbow, and I was forced to pick my head up. It was Mrs. Gooley. I went to school with her daughter Grace.
    “Stephanie Plum!” she said. “I haven’t seen you in years, but I read about you in the paper. Remember when you burned this funeral home down? That was something.”
    “It was an accident.”
    “I hear you were the one to discover poor Lou, God rest his soul.”
    “Actually he was dug up by a backhoe. I got there a little later.”
    “Is it true he was reaching up, trying to get out of his grave?”
    “You’ll have to excuse me,” I said, easing away. “I’m trying to find Grandma.”
    A sign advertised the Dugan viewing in slumber room number one. This was big time. Not everyone got to have a viewing in slumber room number one. It was the largest room and was located directly off the lobby.
    I inched my way through the mob to slumber room one and was stopped at the door by two women I didn’t recognize.
    “Omigosh,” the one said. “You’re Stephanie Plum. You were right there when Lou tried to climb out of his grave. What was it like?”
    “He didn’t try to climb out of his grave,” I said.
    An older woman joined the group. “Are you Stephanie Plum?” she asked.
    “No,” I said.
    “You look a little like the picture on the bus, except for your chest.”
    “Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said.

THIRTY-TWO
     
    I PUSHED INTO the funeral home viewing room and took a position on the back wall. I couldn’t see Grandma, but I knew she would be working her way up to the casket. And when she finally got up there she’d be in a snit because it was closed. It didn’t matter what was left of the deceased, Grandma wanted to see it. She figured if she made the effort to come out and got all dressed up, she at least deserved a peek.
    I’d hoped to find Nick Alpha here, or at least someone who might be associated with him, but people were too smashed together. It was impossible to circulate through the room, and I couldn’t see over the heads of the people standing in front of me. My hope was that it would clear out a little toward the end of the viewing time.
    There were no chairs and standing in the heels was gettingold. Temperature in the room had to be hovering around ninety, and I could feel my hair frizzing. I checked my iPhone for text messages. One from Connie telling me she was waiting for a reply from Alpha’s parole officer. Mr. Mikowitz came