Lean Mean Thirteen by Janet Evanovich Page B

disappearance. Front page. And the article was accompanied by an unflattering picture of me taken while I was waiting for Gobel in the municipal building lobby. They'd interviewed Joyce, and Joyce was quoted as saying I'd always been jealous of her and had fits of violent behavior even as a child. There was a mention of the time Grandma and I accidentally burned down the funeral home. There was a second file photo of me with no eyebrows, the result of my car exploding into a fireball a while back. And then there were several statements by secretaries who'd witnessed me going postal on Dickie. One of the secretaries stated that I pointed a gun at Dickie and threatened to "put a big hole in his head."
    "That was Lula," I said to the empty apartment.
    I put the paper back on Mr. Molinowski's welcome mat, returned to my apartment, threw the bolt on the door, and called my mother.
    "All a pack of lies," I said to my mother. "Ignore it. Everything's fine. I went downtown to have coffee with Marty Gobel and someone got the wrong idea."
    There was a pause while my mother talked herself into halfway believing the story. "I'm having a roast chicken tonight. Are you and Joseph coming to dinner?" It was Friday. Morelli and I always had dinner at my parents' house on Friday night."Sure," I said. "I'll be there. I don't know about Joe. He's on a case." I drank coffee and read the third file. Stewart Hansen was charged with running a light and possession of a controlled substance. He was twenty-two years old, unemployed, and he lived in a house on Myrtle Street at the back end of the Burg. The house had been posted as collateral on the bond. It was owned by Stewarts cousin Trevor.
    I heard a sharp rap on my door and went to look out the security peephole. It was Joyce.
    "Open this door," she yelled. "I know you're in there." She tried to rattle the door, but it held tight.
    "What do you want?" I called through the door.
    "I want to talk to you."
    "About what?"
    "About Dickie, you moron. I want to know where he is. You found out about the money and you somehow managed to snatch him, didn't you?"
    "Why do you want to know where he is?"
    "None of your business. I just need to know," Joyce said.
    "What's with the knit hat on your head?" I asked her. "I almost didn't recognize you. You never wear a hat."
    Joyce fidgeted with the hat. "It's cold out. Everyone wears a hat in this weather." Especially everyone who has beaver fur stuck to their hair.
    "So where the frig is he?" Joyce asked.
    "I told you, I don't know. I didn't kill him. I didn't kidnap him. I have no clue where he is."
    "Great," Joyce said. "That's how you want to play it? Okay by me." And she stomped away.
    "What's wrong with this picture?" I asked Rex. "How did this happen?" Rex was asleep in his soup can. Hard to have a meaningful conversation with a hamster in a can.
    I thought that with the way my morning was running, it wouldn't hurt to have Lula along when I went to see Stewart. Lula wasn't much good as an apprehension agent, but she understood the need for a doughnut when a takedown went into the toilet.
    "So WHAT DID this guy do?"
    Lula was in the passenger seat of Ranger's Cayenne, looking through Stewart Hansens file.
    "It just says controlled substance here. Who wrote this? It don't tell you anything." I turned onto Myrtle and drove by the house. It looked benign. Small cottage. Small plot of land. Indistinguishable from every other house on the street. Christmas lights still up, outlining the front door. Not lit. I circled the block and parked one house down. Lula and I got out and walked up to Stewart Hansen s house.
    "This house is closed up tight," Lula said. "It got blackout drapes on all the windows. Either they're trying to conserve energy, or else they're running around naked in there." I had new cuffs and a stun gun from Connie. "Easier to stun-gun someone when he's naked."
    "Yeah, you got a lot to choose from. You ready to do this?" I gave her a thumbs-up, and