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

it’s worth investigating.”
    “I agree. I’m not going to order you to stay away from Nick Alpha because giving you orders never works, but I would feel much more comfortable if you let me do the investigating.”
    “Sure,” I said. “Investigate to your heart’s content.”
    Morelli narrowed his eyes. “That was too easy.”
    I shrugged. “I have better things to do.”
    “Such as?”
    “Catch bad guys who have gone FTA. And shop for sexy lingerie.”
    “You’re playing me,” Morelli said. “If you’re going to put yourself in danger at least don’t do it alone.”
    • • •
     
    I left Morelli and stopped at the coffee shop to read through Connie’s text message one more time. I bought a Frappuccino and a giant chocolate chip cookie and took them to a bistro table toward the front. Connie had texted me an address for Alpha. According to her source he owned a dry-cleaning business on the first block of Stark, and he was living above it. She wasn’t able to get a personal phone or cell phone.
    I was familiar with the first block of Stark. Most buildings were three stories and built shortly after WWII. They were redbrick turned dark with age and grime. Ground-floor units were commercial. Bars, groceries, a pawnshop, a tattoo parlor, hair salon, a storefront church. This first block was relatively stable and reasonably safe, unless Nick Alpha was out and about and trying to kill me.
    I’d never had reason to notice the dry cleaner. I vaguely remembered that it was in the middle of the block. I knew it backed up to a service alley, as did almost all businesses on Stark. I wanted to snoop around the building and assess the possibility of getting into Alpha’s apartment to look for a Frankenstein mask. I realize this was a little illegal, but I didn’t see where I had a choice. I couldn’t sit around and wait for Alpha to decide it was time to strangle me.
    I finished my cookie and my Frappuccino and was about to leave when Mooner walked in.
    “Yo, dudette,” Mooner said to me.
    “Is the bus done?”
    “Negative. This is like a process. I mean you can’t rush an artiste like Uncle Jimmy.” He waved at the girl behind the counter. “Make me something mellow,” he said to her. “I’m feeling pumpkin.”
    I hung my bag on my shoulder and gathered my trash. “Gotta go.”
    “That’s cool. Where are we going?”
    “I have to check some things out.”
    “Excellent. Checking things out is like more than orange. It’s like one of my specialties.”
    “Pumpkin up,” the counter girl shouted.
    Here’s the thing about Mooner. Half the time I didn’t know what the heck he was saying, but I always knew what he was talking about. He paid for his pumpkin drink and ambled back to me, looking like he was ready to go check things out. Don’t get me wrong. I like Mooner. He’s a little eccentric, but he’s a good guy. Problem is he’s like a puppy that’s only ninety percent housebroken. There’s always the potential for piddle on the carpet. Figuratively speaking.
    “I’m just going over to Stark,” I told him. “It’ll be boring.”
    “Awesome.”
    I blew out a sigh. Sometimes it’s best to give up and go with it. “Okay then,” I said. “Let’s roll.”
    I turned up Stark and cruised past Kan Klean dry cleaners. Standard two plate-glass windows on either side of the front door. A roll-down security gate was in place. Kan Klean was closed on Sunday. A side door accessed the two floors above the dry cleaner. Connie said Alpha lived on the second floor. The third floor was a rental unit occupied by someone named Jesus Cervaz. I drove around the block and took the service road. Alpha’s building had a small parking area behind it, an enclosed area for garbage cans, and a back door that looked like it only led to the dry cleaner. A Kan Klean van and a silver Camry were parked in the lot. The second and third floor had rear access onto exterior stairs.
    There were rear-facing windows in the apartments, but you’d have to be Spider-Man to get to them. The rear doors were solid, without windows.
    “What are we looking at?” Mooner asked.
    “Real estate.”
    “Are you like buying?”
    “No. Breaking and entering.”
    “Excellent.”
    I returned to Stark and drove past Alpha’s address one more time. A man stepped out of a bar two doors down and bent his head to light a cigarette. It was Nick Alpha.
    “Dude,” Mooner said. “It’s The