Chapter 4: Why, I'd never agree to this!? meow

A Catwoman outfit?

A freakin' Catwoman costume!? Of all the things he could've choosing on my behalf, he went with a Catwoman costume?

I stared down at the photograph. The costume appeared to be almost an exact replica of the one Michelle Pfifer wore in the second Batman movie. Very tight, very latexee, very....no way!!!

Wonder woman, maybe. Lara Croft possibly. But Catwoman? I cringed. If Ranger really needed Catwoman for a distraction job why not call Jeanne Ellen Burrows? I'm sure she'd just love to wear this...this. Crap, I can't even call it an outfit!

Re-reading the file for a third time, I started to note other glaringly suspicious information absent from the file. Basic things. Like a simple name and address. Even the spaces marked for a physical description were empty. I rifled through the folder, looking for a picture ID. No luck.

How was I supposed to ID the guy if I didn't know what he looked like?

Besides a brief explanation of my role, the only other information present in the file was a very long list of crimes charged against the anonymous FTA. One count of carrying concealed, several assault with/without a deadly weapon charges, a manslaughter charge, three suspected assassination... Assassination attempts!?

........Well. That settles that. I snapped the folder shut.

Any hope I might've held regarding this being a real, live, legitimate job went up in smoke. As far as I was concerned, there was no legitimate job on this earth requiring me to mush my delicate 5'7" Hungarian-Italian frame into a faux dominatrix costume to entertain some sick unknown assassin. Did Ranger think I'd actually agree to this? That I would for a nanosecond after opening this file believe this was real? That I was so desperate to get Copozzi that I'd overlook the big neon sign that screamed setup? Okay, so he might've been right on that last one, but still, I'm offended. Does he really think so little of me? I was both hurt and pissed that that might very well be the case. Well screw him! I'd take up Morelli's offer to "loan" me the money before I'd ever agreed to this crap.

"In fact, if I ever see-,"the phoned rang, cutting off what could have been a promising rant on why men should be castrated for the good of all womankind. Tossing the folder on the table with a resounding smack, I walked in the kitchen and picked up the phone.

"What!?" that might've come out the slightest bit irate.

"Excuse me!? Is that how you answer your phone now? With 'what'? Honestly Stephanie, you'd think I didn't raise you with better manners than that. Then again, apparently not. Especially if half the things people have called-up to tell me this morning are even remotely true."

Ah. Love that grapevine. "Hi mom. Heard anything interesting?"

"Stephanie, what am I going to do with you? Huh? Tell me, please. Because, I haven't got a clue."

"Hmm...feed me?"

No reply.

"I thought it was a good answer."

I heard my mother inhaled sharply--twice, into the phone line. "Do you know what I've been doing this morning?"

"No...but, I have a feeling it involves ironing."

She continued on, as if I hadn't spoken. "Not studying for my pharmacology exam like I should be. Oh-no. You know what I've been up to for the past half-hour Stephanie? I'll give you one guess."

I resisted the urge to sigh. "Answering phone calls?"

"That's right Stephanie. Answering phone calls! Phone calls from people wondering why my daughter's running around downtown Trenton pistol-whipping clowns-"

"I didn't pistol-whip a clown!"...though not from a lack of trying.

".....and running over helpless old ladies..."

"Whoa. Whoa. Back-up. I didn't run over anyone!"

"I've heard from four different people, including your Grandmother of all people, how you nearly ran down poor Mrs. Scallion."

"Mrs. Scallion?" visions of an old lady in a powder pink and green jumpsuit flew through my mind.

I groaned. "I didn't hit her, Mom...she was moving too fast," I sort of mumbled that last part.

But, my mother heard it though and was horrified. "Stephanie Michelle Plum!"

Well she was.

My mother continued. "What am I suppose to tell people when they call here, huh? "

"That I'll try harder next time?"

She had no reply to that. Hey, I thought that was funny! Of course, my mother on the other hand, was breathing deeply into the phone line. Either she was trying desperately to calm down, or barely holding in her overwhelming impulse to laugh. I was betting on the former.

"Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. You need to stop doing these things! Does Mrs. Dumbrowski's daughter shoot people? No. Does-'

"Yes she does. She a cop now."

"Cop? What cop? She sits behind a desk all day, filing papers. Something you could be doing!"

Me? File? I grimaced at the image that brought up. Shaking my head, I replied. "Sorry ma, I lack the necessary skills to be file a good file clerk."

"Necessary skills? You're a college graduate. What skills don't you have?"

Opening the refrigerator door, I answered absently. "The ability to bend over more than five times in a row."

"Stephanie, be serious!"

"I am." I can't. At least not willingly. Pulling out the last beer, I kicked the door closed and lean against the kitchen's small island.

"Stephanie, you can do better than this," she pleaded. I groan internally and took a good long sip of my beer. I knew what was coming. "I know people. It doesn't have to be in the button factory. I understand that now. You're not a factory girl-"

Ugh. She's started. Slamming the beer down, I said. "Mom."

"But, how about a nice-"

"MOM!" I yelled into phone, stopping her mid-rant. "Remember our agreement?"

Silence. Heh-heh! I did a little happy dance.

Ah yes, the agreement. My ultimate secret weapon. Oh, how I've come to love making it. The "'agreement" as it was referred to, goes something like this: In exchange for my mother never mentioning a change in my choice of employment or future plans of matrimony, I was obligated to bring Joe over to dinner once a week. When Joe's work permitted, of course. It allowed my mother that last glimmer of hope that I'd eventually re-marry and produce my quota of Catholic grandchildren before my eggs dried up.

My mother paused, cried "Why me?" then promptly changed the subject.

"Have heard from your sister?"

"Uh...no," not if I can help it. "Why?"

"She was supposed to drop the baby off this morning. I've been calling your apartment since noon and no one picks up."

I wanted to say she probably hadn't paid the phone bill. Instead I said, "She's probably sleeping Mom. You know how it is with newborn babies and-," she cut me off.

"She's living in your apartment Stephanie."

I groaned. "I know,"boy did I know. "But-,"she cut me off again.

"I'm worried about her. Go check on her."

I rolled my eyes. A day hadn't gone by without my mother thinking something terrible had happen to Valerie, or the girls. When they moved out, my mother was relieved for about 2.3 milliseconds before realizing where my sister was moving into. Now, not only does Val have to deal with a fussy newborn, but our neurotic mother calling every five minutes to see if she's been murdered or not.

"Sorry Mom, I'm...," looking around the kitchen for a plausible excuse, "I'm kind of busy with cleaning-"

"Busy?" her voice grew progressively louder. "You're 'busy'? You found enough time to run down poor Mrs. Scallion, but can't spare a single second to check up on your only sister? A sister who is still weak and helpless from childbirth."

Oh, God. Not this. "I keep telling you Mom, she is NOT weak from childbirth." ...she's winded from carting around seventy extra pounds.

"She could be lying dead this very moment on your kitchen floor. Only God knows what psycho could have broken into your apartment looking for you and gone after her."

"I have no psychos looking for me at the moment," Frankie didn't count. He was more interested in running from me than hunting me down...then again.

"Alright, I'll go. Satisfied?" I sniffed my clothes. Yuck! I need a shower badly.

"Yes." she said, then none too slyly asked. "Have you heard from Joe?"

"Talked to him this morning." I said, absently, taking off my damp flannel shirt.

"Is he coming home soon?" she pressed.

If I'd hadn't been distracted with my shirt, I would have known better than to answered truthfully. "He's coming home tomorrow afternoon."

My mother instantly brightened. "Good! Then I can expect to see you both at dinner tomorrow night. "

I reeled. Damage control. "Sorry we've...er...got plans."like Pino's subs and dinner table nookie.

"Stephanie. You do remember our 'agreement'?" Damn. The agreement did have its darkside.

"Yes." I said, weakly.

"Then I'll see you both tomorrow evening." her tone left no room for argument. "Will you be over for dinner this evening?"

"Ooh. Really tempting. But," not if I'm coming over tomorrow.

"Baked chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, pineapple upside-down cake for desert. Extra whipped crème?"

Damn. I couldn't resist that cake and she knew it.

"Sure, Mom." I mumbled.

"Call me when you talk to your sister."

"Okay."

"Your grandmother wants to speak with you."

Great. Finishing my beer, I tossed the can into the garbage bin and started pacing back and forth across the checkered floor tile.

"Stephanie?"

"Yes, Grandma?"

"Did you really try to kill Betty?" by her tone, I'd say Grandma was a little too bit enthused by the prospect.

"No, Grandma".

"Well darn, here goes for hoping it was true. You know, she's stolen a studmuffin I've had an eye on a time or two."

"No I didn't know, Grandma. Sorry....if I see her again I'll give it another shot. Just for you." I fell forward, rested my head against the refrigerator door.

"Oh, that'd be lovely! She power walks every morning from eight to ten. Just let me know and-"

"I was joking!" Sheesh! My grandma's advocating murder...and yet this doesn't surprise me.

She was quite for a moment. "Then so was I, dear."

Yeah right. Moving on. "Are you coming to dinner?"

"Most...likely." Please not another viewing. There's a Ranger's game on tonight. Please, please, please not a....

"Oh, good! I need a ride to a viewing at Stiva's after dinner. They've got Marty Millerman laid up tonight and the place will be crawling with Lodge members."

Crap, a manhunt. That means I'll barely make it home in time for the intermission. What to do? Well, there's the obvious.

"I have to do surveillance for ...someone after dinner." Lie of course.

"With Ranger? That nice young man, with the impressive packaging?"

When did it become packaging? "Yup, Ranger."

"Wahoo! That's even better. Invite him over. I've missed seeing him around here the last few months. You both can eat dinner, and then drop me off at Stiva's on your way. Or if it's a big case I can-"

Danger, Danger. Stephanie Plum.

"He can't. He's has to take care of some business before our stakeout and so I have to meet him there. At the stake out place. Cause that where we always meet for our stake outs. At the stakeout place."

At the stake out place? What has happen to my fibbing ability?

"Hmm...Well then, does that mean you have enough time to drop me off and stay for a little bit? Besides, you know me. I won't stay very long."

No, not very long...just this side of eternity. Not very long at all. Okay, this deserves a definite change in tactics.

"I thought you were still seeing Herman? He can drive, why can't he take you?"...to search for a new boyfriend.

"He's dead. Had a stroke this morning in the park."

"Ohmigod! I'm so sorry."

"Yep, yep...tipped over like a cow, right there on the side walk, while power jogging. Such a shame too. Herman was such a lively one. He could," I pulled the phone away from my ear. I didn't want to hear the next few words she had to say. There was no reason on this earth why I needed to how lively Herman Johnson could be." ...but I'm hoping to find replacement at tonight's viewing. Those Lodge members are such hotties. Well, except for Ronnie Flink and Ned Peters. Never did find Ronnie cute. It's all that hair he's got coming out of his ears and nose. And Loretta told me once that Ned hasn't been able to get his....," God stop her now, "Anyway, Herman would have wanted it that way."

"I'm sure. Listen, I have to go check on Valerie. See you later."

"See you this evening."

Click.

I stared at the receiver, amazed. Less than five hours after her last boyfriend bites the dust, she's on the prowl for another one. Death wasn't even a deterrent for my Grandma's libido.

Eww...