Chapter 1

Eight months later

There comes a time in a woman's life when she starts to question the decisions she's made. For me, that time was three years ago. I must not have been asking the right questions, because somehow I keep ending up sprawled across the ground, trying to catch my breath while also trying hard not to think about the various squishy substances beneath me.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and I wish I could say that I don't know how things like this keep happening to me. But the ugly truth is that I'm just not that good at my job. There are some people who are underemployed, as in their job doesn't take full advantage of their expertise. My suspicion is that I'm overemployed. There are certain skill sets that are necessary to be a successful bond apprehension agent, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't seem to master them.

Okay, I'll be honest - maybe I hadn't yet given it my best effort. Probably I could try a little harder at things like physical fitness, carrying my gun, and making sure my pepper spray canister stayed full.

It's not that I'm a complete failure. My job is to bring 'em in dead or alive, and I'm happy to say that my track record is at least 95% alive. And I suppose another good thing is that I do eventually bring 'em in. I just wished it wasn't so often that I brought 'em in naked, or sopping wet, or with one or both of us covered in garbage or other undesirable substances.

I was almost glad that Lenny Bennett had slipped away from me. This would have been another tick in the covered-in-garbage column.

Lenny was arrested for shoplifting three full hams from Giovichinni's deli. The whole situation didn't exactly scream criminal mastermind, so I'd thought he would be an easy capture. In my mind's eye, I had knocked on his door, politely explained that he'd missed his court appearance, and generously offered to drive him to the courthouse so he could reschedule. The missing information I hadn't had at the time was that Bobby Stanton was Lenny's cousin. I'd hauled in Bobby Stanton a few months back. Bobby had told Lenny about his own experience of being unable to make bond on the second go-around and having to spend two weeks in jail until his next court date. Turned out, Lenny wasn't keen on spending the night in jail.

I'd learned all of this when Lenny shouted it at me while I chased him around his apartment. I'd had the foresight to keep Lula on watch at the front door to keep Lenny from escaping, but we didn't have enough bodies to guard the fire escape. I'd chased Lenny down the fire escape and into the alley behind his apartment building. Lenny tried to slow me down by tossing garbage cans into my path, and unfortunately for both of us, it was garbage day and the truck hadn't collected yet. Garbage bags spilled open left and right, and it wasn't long before Lenny tripped himself in the mess he was creating, and we both went down. The wind was knocked out of me when I tried tackling Lenny, and he took the opportunity to scramble to his feet and run away.

The back of his t-shirt was covered in chunky brown goop that I was promising myself was beef stew. I laid there for a couple minutes after watching Lenny's back disappear around the corner, trying to find the motivation to get up.

"I guess Lenny Bennett is more wily than we thought."

I craned my neck up to see Lula amble around from the front of the building. "Guess so."

"We should have known, seeing as how he shoplifted three whole hams. Two, sure, I can see that. But three hams? He's only got two hands, so how's he manage the third one? That there takes skill. I suppose you gotta be pretty wily to manage to walk away with three big hams."

Lula is a former 'ho and hasn't quite found her new calling yet. She works full-time as a file clerk at Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, and part-time as an apprentice bond apprehension agent slash sidekick. She's underemployed as a file clerk, but definitely overemployed as an apprentice bounty hunter. But at least the sidekick part was just right for Lula.

"You okay? Can you move?" she asked.

"Yeah, I can move. I'm just taking a minute."

"Hunh. If it were me, I'd be more eager to get out of that garbage pile. I'm glad it's not me that's in that garbage pile, seeing as this is a brand new outfit." She ran her hands over her hot pink romper that was working valiantly to contain just enough of Lula to keep her from getting ticketed for indecent exposure. "I suppose you're lucky that you won't miss this outfit you've got on. Probably it'll be best to just throw this outfit away rather than trying to get that brown gunk out of it."

I was actually wearing one of my favorite stretchy t-shirts, but Lula was probably right. I hoped that at least my shoes were salvageable. I was tight on cash at the moment, and I didn't want to have to spend next month's Tasty Pastry budget on new shoes.

"Give me a hand?"

Lula stepped carefully through the garbage strewn across the asphalt, and she was careful where she touched me while she hauled me to my feet. "Whoo boy." She stepped back and waved her hand in front of her face. "I'm starting to think I know what that brown gunk is, but on account of you're the one wearing it in your hair, I'm not gonna be rude and point it out."

"It's stew," I told her. I was in deep denial. When you're overemployed like me, you learn to use denial as a comfy cloak that you can cuddle inside when things become too overwhelming or too scary or too gross.

We came out of the alley and found a black-and-white parked in front of the apartment complex, right behind my POS Honda. It was empty, and Lula and I both wordlessly picked up the pace, having a renewed sense of urgency to get out of dodge.

"I thought that was your car."

I turned to see Carl Costanza and Big Dog exiting Lenny's apartment building. Carl and Big Dog were both uniform cops with the Trenton PD, and had been partners for so long that they finished each other's sentences. Or they would, if Big Dog could ever get a word in edgewise. Carl did most of the talking for both of them, at least when I was around. Could be that Carl just enjoyed giving me a hard time.

"This car is new," I said. "You haven't even seen me in this car yet."

"I guess it just looks like a car that would belong to you."

That was the saddest statement I'd heard all day. Even moreso because it was probably true. My car had started life as an '89 Honda Civic, and it still sort of resembled one, but it was missing a rear bumper and rear quarter panel. It was mostly magenta, except for the driver's side door that may have been white at one time but probably not when it was added to the car. It looked like it had been pulled from a landfill.

I let a sigh escape. "Dealin' Dan the Used Car Man said this car was a good fit for me. He also gave me a good price."

"Dealin' Dan did you wrong," Carl said. "And if it were me, there would be no price good enough to get me to drive this hunk of junk off the lot. Although I guess if you have to drive around covered in garbage and god-knows-what-else, then you may as well be driving in a car like this."

"It's stew," I said.

Carl jerked his thumb back toward the apartment building he'd just exited. "Mrs. Kowicki in 3B called in a domestic disturbance. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Nu-uh," Lula said. She was inching away toward the car. Tough to say if it was because of her aversion to cops, or if it was because of the smell I was carrying. "We didn't hear no disturbance. Did you hear a disturbance, Stephanie?"

"Nope."

"Just checking," Carl said. "We'll write this up as a false alarm. Happens all the time."

Carl and Big Dog angled back into their patrol car and motored down Madison, off to continue protecting the city of Trenton from itself. Lula and I motored off in the opposite direction. Our motoring was a little more conspicuous since my Honda was having some mild muffler problems. We pulled up in front of the bonds office, and Lula looked over at me when I didn't turn the car off.

"Aren't you coming in?"

"No. I'm dropping you off and then I'm going home to take a shower." And possibly take a bath in some bleach.

"Don't you have that body receipt for Milton Carmichael? Figured you'd at least want to come in and get your cash."

"I can wait until tomorrow."

"Sure, but a certain percent of that cash is mine, seeing as I was an integral part of the capture and all, and I was really counting on that money tonight. I was gonna stop by the mall and make a final payment on a handbag I got on layaway."

I reluctantly slid out of the car, moving gingerly - I'd already felt a bit of stew sliding down the back of my shirt, and I wanted to make sure no more made it in there. Connie glanced up from her desk when we walked into the bonds office, and then did a double-take. "Is that…"

"Stew," I told her.

"If you say so. How'd it go today?"

"One for two. We got Carmichael. Bennett evaded us."

"One for two isn't bad." Connie took my body receipt and pulled out her checkbook while I waited.

"That's the spirit. I appreciate your positive outlook," Lula said. "Stephanie here has been more of a glass-half-empty person lately. I remember when you were always seeing the glass as half full. That was more fun. That's how I prefer to approach things."

"Next time, you can be the one to tackle the guy in garbage, and then we'll see how positive you're feeling afterward."

"Hunh. I know what your problem is."

"Today, my problem was Lenny Bennett."

Lula shook her head. "Nu-uh. You got bigger problems than Lenny Bennett. Your problem is that you're not gettin' any."

Connie looked up from writing my check. "You're still on the outs with Morelli?"

"We're in an 'off' stage of on-again, off-again," I said. Connie and Lula exchanged looks, and I narrowed my eyes. "What? What is that look?"

"I didn't realize you were still broken up," Connie said.

"What she's trying to say is that we didn't know the rumors about Officer Hottie and Lauren Lovick were true."

Connie glared at Lula. "That's what I was trying not to say."

I'd heard the rumors, too. Everyone had heard the rumors - this was the Burg. Gossip was the glue that held the whole neighborhood together. That, and Entemann's coffee cake.

"So, are they?" Lula asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so, but even if they were, Morelli and I have an agreement. Even when we're 'on again', we can see other people if we want." The unwritten part of the agreement was that neither of us actually did see other people, but maybe I was wrong about that.

"Sure, but everybody knows that agreement is just so you can still sleep with Ranger and Morelli don't have to shoot him."

I gaped at her. "I'm not sleeping with Ranger!"

"Of course not," Connie said. "He's out of town."

That was true, but it wasn't the only reason. Ranger and I had had a handful of romantic encounters in the past, but he had made sure the expectations between us were very clear from the beginning - as in, I shouldn't have any. His life doesn't lend itself to a nice little house in the Burg with 2.5 kids and a cheery mailbox. To be honest, my life doesn't fit in that house either, but I'd been thinking lately that maybe it was time for me to make more of an effort.

"Uh-huh. Now I see it. With Ranger being in the wind for a couple weeks now and you still being on the outs with Morelli, I can see where you got this whole glass-half-empty attitude. I get that way too if it's been awhile without some romantic time."

"My love life, or lack thereof, doesn't have anything to do with my glass-half-empty attitude. Which I'm not even admitting to having. But if I did, I'd say it's for sure because of Lenny Bennett and the garbage."

"The lack of romantic time can't be helping, is all I'm saying."

Vinnie stuck his head out of his office. "What's going on out here? Do I pay you to stand around and talk about your pathetic love life? No! Where are my skips? You should be out there hauling these jackasses back into the system so I can get my money!"

I grit my teeth. "You think you're the only one who needs money? Well, you're not! I'm trying, okay?"

"Jeez, what's that god-awful smell out here?" Vinnie looked me over and his lips curled back. "Is that…"

"It's stew!" I cried. My eyes were squinched shut and my arms were flapping. "It's stew, okay? Can't a girl have an accident with some garbage without everyone feeling the need to comment?"

"Just saying. It smells like that's not the only kind of accident you had."

I lunged at Vinnie, and he dove back into his office. I kicked his door and I may have shrieked a little.

Lula had backed up a couple steps. "I stand by what I said. Your romantic life's got you all on edge."

"It's not my romantic life. It's just my life!" I cried. "Look at me! I'm covered in… stew! I hate when this happens!"

"To be fair, you've been doing this for a few years now, and this is only the second time you've ended up covered in… you know."

I shot Connie a glare that should've had her cowering under her desk, but Connie was hearty Italian stock. It took more than a Burg death glare to faze Connie.

"Yeah, I think what you need is to look on the bright side," Lula said.

Connie and I both looked at her. Waiting.

"I'm sure we can think of one," she said.

"What I need is a new job!"

"You always say that," Lula said. "And yet here you still are."

"Exactly! I'm sick of it! I mean it this time. I want a new job, and I want a new life."

Connie was starting to look panicked. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm no good at this job, and I'm sick of it. I'm barely scraping by. I'm behind on my rent, and I probably need new shoes, and I'm not going to have any money leftover for donuts. I need donuts!"

"Yep, that sounds pretty serious," Lula agreed. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I'm not sure." I deflated and sank into the chair across from Connie's desk. To my horror, a tear squeezed out of my eye.

Connie snapped into crisis management. "Tell you what. As long as you promise to bring in all of the current open cases, and give me some time to find a new apprehension agent, then Lula and I will help you with this."

"I need to bring them in. I need the cash. Even when I find a new job, I'm not going to bring in my first paycheck for a couple of weeks." Truth be told, it wasn't only my Tasty Pastry budget that was in jeopardy.

"It's a deal, then." Connie brought out a pad of paper and a pen. "So they say that the first step to changing your life is admitting that you have a problem."

"See, that's good news," Lula said. "You're already done with step one, and that was easy."

"What's next?"

"Probably we need to figure out a few more steps to this plan. Usually there are twelve steps, but that's for when your life is really bad."

I gestured at myself. "How is this not really bad?"

"She means like when you're addicted to drugs or booze or sex," Lula said. "You don't got any of that going on. Probably you only need like three steps."

"That sounds about right." Connie wrote out a numbered list on her pad of paper. "So what's first?"

"I want to find a job I'm good at, and that has zero potential for rolling around in garbage."

"Knowing your track record, that might exclude a lot of things," Lula said. "Maybe you want to be a little more open-minded."

I ignored her. "Once I have the new job, I'm going to settle down."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hell if I knew. "It means I'm going to learn to cook, and possibly bake, and I'm going to get a freaking toaster, and probably I'll get married."

"Boy, Mrs. P is gonna be real happy to hear that. Who are you gonna settle down with?"

"Morelli, of course."

"Does he know that? I thought you two were on the outs."

"He doesn't know yet, but he will soon. That's not until step two, right?" I looked to Connie to verify.

"Right. You'll make it work with him after you get the new job. Probably that will be easier, anyway. Everyone knows how he hates your job."

"Does Lauren Lovick know any of this?" Lula asked.

Connie shot Lula a look that put my Burg death stare to shame. I gave a sigh.

"That's two steps," Connie said. "What's the third?"

"I don't know. I guess, live happily ever after."

"Perfect. Then that's it. Here's your 3-step plan." She ripped the top leaf off her pad of paper and handed it to me.

"Freakin' A!" Lula said. "I'm getting into this now! Look at you go! You're a woman with a plan!"

"Find a job I'm good at. Make it work with Morelli. Live happily ever after," I recited. "It's my F.M.L. plan."

Connie grimaced. "Probably you can think of a new name later."

"Here's some good news," Lula said. "Things are looking up for you already. Here comes Office Hottie now."

I looked out the window in time to see Morelli's SUV slide to the curb behind my Honda. I took my check from Connie, but she stopped me before I could leave.

"I have another FTA for you," she said, handing me a file folder. She saw my protestation coming and cut me off. "This can be your last one while you're on Step One of your plan."

It felt light. "Who is it?"

"The name is Gabriella Ayala. We don't have much on her. As far as I can tell, she's new in town, and she's a first-time offender. She was picked up for buying drugs at the corner of Stark and Twelfth."

"That's a real bad corner," Lula said. "Count me out. I don't want nothing to do with sniffing around Stark and Twelfth."

I stuffed the file into my bag along with a few others that were languishing in there. "Anything else? Otherwise, I'm headed home. Or possibly to the nearest car wash. Do you think they'd let me just walk through?"

"Good luck with that," Connie said.

I said goodbye to Connie and Lula and stepped outside. While I let my eyes adjust to the sunlight, I contemplated my chances of getting into my car before Morelli could confront me. Or smell me. It wasn't exactly my finest moment.

He was leaning against my car, ankles and arms crossed. He was six feet of hard muscle, high libido, and Italian attitude. I waited for the rush of heat I usually got from seeing Morelli waiting for me, but the rush didn't come. Probably my own libido was a little on the low side because of the stew and the resulting mental health breakdown.

"Is this a social call?" I asked him.

"Carl told me that you were a domestic disturbance at the Fox Run apartments this afternoon."

Joe Morelli was a plainclothes cop working crimes against persons. Like Morelli and me, half of the Trenton PD grew up in the Burg. Juicy gossip was what kept the job bearable. Everyone knew Morelli and I had been seeing each other off and on for years, so every time I had a run-in with one of Trenton's finest, he had the pleasure of hearing about it from a dozen different angles.

"In other words, he told you about the garbage and you needed to come see for yourself. Must be a slow day."

"We're a little low on our murder quota this week." He took a step closer and eyed me warily. "What the hell is -"

My hands clenched into fists. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you need some plastic bags or anything? Something to sit on until you get home?"

"That's okay. I already sat in the car." I looked behind him at my hunk of junk at the curb. "I just got a new skip who hangs out on Stark. Maybe I'll get lucky, and someone will steal the car while I go looking for her."

"I hate to break it to you, but there's no way anyone is going to want that car."

"Maybe I can get someone to blow it up, then."

I'd been kidding, but Morelli gave a sigh. It was a sound of resignation, and I'd heard it plenty of times before. Even though we were 'off again', Morelli didn't like to think about my cars - or especially me - getting blown up.

That was a big part of the reason that we weren't currently cohabiting. He was in agreement that I was overemployed in my current job, and was waiting for me to get a nice, safe position at the button factory. Pretty sure he'd also be okay if my job title changed to Housewife. Morelli already had the little house and the mailbox, and I was starting to think that he wouldn't mind the 2.5 kids to complete the picture. Morelli was a couple years older than me, but he was lightyears ahead in the domestic department. He was waiting for me to catch up, but a few weeks ago his momentary lapse in patience had led to a yelling match in his kitchen. This was the first time I'd seen him since.

"Your life sucks," he finally said.

"Excuse me? Who gave you the right to judge?" Just because I'd come to the same conclusion didn't mean that I appreciated him pointing it out.

"You're making jokes about car bombs, and I'm afraid that you've started to think that this kind of thing is normal. I'm here to tell you, it's not."

I moved to push past him to my car, but he grabbed my wrist.

"You'll be careful on Stark, right?"

"I'm always careful."

"I wish I could believe that, but I know you too well."

He was too close, and I didn't want him to associate me with the stew smell. "I need to get home and shower."

Morelli held my gaze for a few more beats before he released my wrist. "See you later."

I watched him climb back into his car, and I followed suit. I'd thought for a minute there that he was coming in for a kiss, but nope. He also hadn't offered to help me in the shower. I wasn't sure if it was the stew smell that put him off, or our questionable relationships status, or the talk of car bombings.

Or maybe Connie and Lula and Gina Giovichinni and Mary Lou and my mother were all right - maybe Morelli was seeing Lauren Lovick. It was sort of easy to picture.

Lauren graduated two years behind me, so we weren't close, but everyone knew Lauren. She was the girl who mothers far and wide put on a pedestal. Lauren Brandon just met a nice boy from a fraternity. Don't you think you'd like to join a sorority so you could meet someone that way? And then after college, I heard that Lauren Brandon is working as an accountant for Knights Construction. Maybe they have job openings? And then most recently, I bet Lauren Brandon's mother never gets calls about Lauren burning down a funeral home.

Lauren Brandon became Lauren Lovick when she married Dean Lovick, that same nice boy from the fraternity. Dean died in a car accident two years ago, while Lauren was five months pregnant. Those same mothers all across the Burg pitched in to make sure Lauren had everything she needed while raising little Brady. Now that a respectable amount of time had passed since her husband's death, Lauren had become a hot commodity, a final hope for those sons who weren't yet married off. She even came with a bonus, guaranteed grandchild. I was half afraid that my mother might try to set me up with Lauren.

I was only a few blocks from my parents' house, and I decided to detour. I couldn't stand another fifteen minutes in the car with the stew smell. I needed an emergency shower. My mother would surely take one look at me and head straight for the cabinet where she kept the whiskey, but probably she was going to drink tonight anyway. Plus, it was only an hour until dinner. I could mooch some food and eat in peace, since my mother wouldn't have enough time to recruit an eligible bachelor to join us on such short notice.