Free 04 Four to Score by Janet Evanovich Page A

mean, you're not just waiting for these clues, are you?”
    “I've been going through the list of names and businesses you gave me. The manager of the Seven-Eleven said Maxine stopped by Sunday night. So far, no one else has seen her.”
    “Christ, she's here all the time leaving these stupid clues. Why doesn't someone see her? What is she, the freaking Phantom?”
    “The manager of the Seven-Eleven said something that stuck in my mind. She said Maxine always used to buy a lottery ticket, but this time she said she didn't need to win the lottery anymore.”
    The line of Kuntz's mouth tightened. “Maxine's a lunatic. Who knows what she's thinking.”
    I suspected Eddie Kuntz knew exactly what Maxine was thinking.
    “You need to be on that bench tomorrow at three,” I told Kuntz. “I'll call you in the morning and make the final arrangements.”
    “I don't know if I like this. She pitched a rock into my window. There's no telling what she might do. Suppose she wants to snuff me?”
    “Throwing a rock through a window doesn't equate with killing someone.” I stared at him for a moment. “Does she have a reason for wanting to kill you?”
    “I pressed charges against her. Is that a reason?”
    “It wouldn't be for me.” This loser wasn't worth doing time for. “Hard to say about Maxine.”
    *    *    *    *    *
    I LEFT KUNTZ fiddling with his boom box. I'm not sure why I'd felt compelled to see him in person. I suppose I wanted to look him in the eye and learn if he'd scalped Maxine's mother. Unfortunately, in my experience, eyes are vastly overrated as pathways to the soul. The only thing I saw in Eddie Kuntz's eyes was last night's booze tally, which I could sum up as being too much.
    I looped past Mrs. Nowicki's house and saw no sign of life. Her windows were closed shut. Shades were drawn. I parked the car and went to the door. No one answered my knock. “Mrs. Nowicki,” I called out. “It's Stephanie Plum.” I knocked again and was about to leave when the door opened a crack.
    “Now what?” Mrs. Nowicki said.
    “I'd like to talk.”
    “Lucky me.”
    “Can I come in?”
    “No.”
    The entire top of her head was bandaged. She was without makeup and cigarette, and she looked old beyond her years.
    “How's your head?” I asked.
    “Been worse.”
    “I mean from the cut.”
    She rolled her eyes up. “Oh, that . . .”
    “I need to know who did it.”
    “I did it.”
    “I saw the blood. And I saw the knife. And I know you didn't do this to yourself. Someone came looking for Maxine. And you ended up getting hurt.”
    “You want my statement? Go read it from the cops.”
    “Did you know someone visited Maxine's friend, Marjorie, and chopped off her finger?”
    “And you think the same guy did both of us.”
    “It seems reasonable. And I think it would be better for Maxine if I found her before he does.”
    “Life is a bitch,” Mrs. Nowicki said. “Poor Maxie. I don't know what she did. And I don't know where she is. What I know is that she's in a lot of trouble.”
    “And the man?”
    “He said if I talked he'd come back and kill me. And I believe him.”
    “This is all in confidence.”
    “It don't matter. There's nothing I can tell you. There were two of them. I turned around and there they were in my kitchen. Average height. Average build. Wearing coveralls and stocking masks. Even had on those disposable rubber gloves like they wear in the hospital.”
    “How about their voices?”
    “Only one spoke, and there wasn't anything to remember about it. Not old. Not young.”
    “Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again?”
    “I don't know. Like I said, there wasn't anything to remember.”
    “And you don't know where Maxine is staying?”
    “Sorry. I just don't know.”
    “Let's try it from another direction. If Maxine wasn't living in her apartment and didn't have to go to work every day . . . where would she go?”
    “That's easy. She'd go to the shore. She'd