television off, and Kloughn and I walked to the door just in time to see Bender drive off in my CR-V.
“Hey,” Kloughn yelled to Bender, “you’ve got my handcuffs!”
Bender had his arm out the window, holding the door on the driver’s side closed. The chain snaked from the door to the back bumper, a loop of chain dragging on the ground, sending up sparks. Bender raised his arm and gave us the finger just before turning the corner and disappearing from view.
“I bet you left the key in the ignition,” Kloughn said. “I think that might be illegal. I bet you didn’t lock your door, either. You should always take the key and lock the door.”
I gave Kloughn my bitch look.
“Of course, these were special circumstances,” he added.
**********************
KLOUGHN HUDDLED UNDER the small overhang that protected the front stoop to Bender’s apartment. I was at curbside, in the rain, sopping wet, waiting for the blue-andwhite. You reach a point with rain where it just doesn’t matter anymore. I’d hoped to get Costanza or my pal Eddie Gazarra when I’d put the call in for a stolen vehicle. The car that responded wasn’t either.
“So you’re the famous Stephanie Plum?” the cop said.
“I almost never shoot people,” I said, sliding onto the backseat of the cruiser. “And the fire in the funeral parlor wasn’t my fault.” I leaned forward and water dripped from the tip of my nose onto the floor of the car. “Usually Costanza answers my calls,” I said.
“He didn’t win the pool.”
“There’s a pool?”
“Yeah. Participation really dropped after that thing with the snakes.”
Fifteen minutes later the blue-and-white left, and Morelli showed up.
“Listening to your radio again?” I asked.
“I don’t have to listen to my radio anymore. As soon as your name pops up somewhere in the system, I get forty- five phone calls.”
I did a small grimace, which I hoped was endearing. “Sorry.”
“Let me get this straight,” Morelli said. “Bender drove away chained to the car.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“And your handbag was in the car?”
“Yep.”
Morelli looked over at Kloughn. “Who’s the little guy in the tassel loafers and black eyes?”
“Albert Kloughn.”
“And you brought him along because… ?”
“He had the handcuffs.”
Morelli struggled not to smile and lost. “Get in the truck. I’ll take you home.”
We dropped Kloughn off first.
“Hey, you know what?” Kloughn said. “We never had lunch. Do you think we should all go to lunch? There’s Mexican just down the street. Or we could catch a burger, or an egg roll. I know a place that makes good egg rolls.”
“I’ll call you,” I said.
