Free 14bis Plum Spooky by Janet Evanovich Page A

her.
    “I‘m filing. What does it look like I‘m doing? It‘s my job, you know.”
    “You never file.”
    “Your ass,” Lula said.
    “I‘m paying a visit to Greenblat Produce this morning,” I said. “Anyone need fruit?”
    “Hell yeah,” Lula said. “I‘m not missing that. I was in the car when all the action went down last time.”
    I could happily do without that kind of action. Still, we took my Jeep, just in case there was another tomato incident. Lula didn‘t want to veg up her Firebird.
    I drove to Greenblat and parked in the lot. I got out of the Jeep and transferred the pepper spray, stun gun, and cuffs from my bag to my jeans for easier access.
    “Don‘t you worry,” Lula said. “If he starts something this time, you gonna have Lula there. I‘ll sit on Bowling Ball Head and squash him into a pancake.”
    “Fine. Just don‘t shoot him.”
    “Did I say I was gonna shoot him? Did you hear me say that?”
    “I was only reminding you.”
    “You got a thing about shooting people. I bet Diesel shoots lots of people.”
    “Diesel doesn‘t carry a gun.”
    “Get out of town!”
    I entered the office, said hello to the Connie clones, and went straight to the door leading to the ware house. I walked up and down aisles formed by stacks of crates and found Bollo putting little stickers on apples.
    “Look who‘s here,” Bollo said, spotting me. “Come back for more tomatoes?”
    “You need to come with me to get rescheduled.”
    Bollo palmed an apple. “No.”
    “If you hit me with that apple, I‘m going to let Lula shoot you,” I said.
    Bollo looked past me. “I don‘t see no Lula.”
    I turned and scanned the aisle. He was right. No Lula.
    “She was here a minute ago,” I said.
    “Well, she ain‘t here now.”
    I shouted her name, and she rounded a stack of crated oranges at the end of the aisle.
    “You looking for me?” Lula said, her arms filled with fruit and vegetables.
    “Yes, I‘m looking for you. You‘re supposed to be my backup. What are you doing?”
    “I‘m shopping. This place got really good produce. I got some grapefruit and a eggplant, and look at these red pears. And I got a dozen eggs. They even got fresh eggs here.”
    “We don’t sell produce here, fatso,” Bollo said. “We only distribute to stores. Put them back.”
    Lula’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Did you just call me fatso? Did I hear that right?”
    “Yeah,” Bollo said. “What of it?”
    “That’s a mean thing to say. And it isn’t even true. I’m just a big and beautiful woman. I got more of all the good stuff than most other women. And people who have heads like bowling balls should watch what they say about other people. You’re lucky I’m not a vicious person, because if I was vicious, I’d call you Coconut Head. Or Gordo Gourdhead.”
    And then Lula bounced a grapefruit off Coconut Head’s forehead. And Coconut Head tagged her with the apple he’d been holding. And what happened after that was a blur of flying fruit and eggs. I had my stun gun in my hand, but it was hard to get to Bollo and dodge the fruit at the same time. I finally managed to get the prongs on him, I hit the go button, and nothing happened. No juice.
    Bollo shoved me away, and I lost my footing, sliding on fruit slime. I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and took him down with me. I was hanging on to him, and he was trying to get away, and Lula fired off a shot to the ceiling.
    “Next bullet’s gonna be up your ass,” Lula said to Bollo.
    Bollo paused to consider that, and a rat dropped from an overhead rafter and landed inches from Lula in her red patent-leather stilettos.
    “Damn rats are all over the place,” Bollo said.
    Lula just about went white. “I hate rats,” she said. “I hate rats more than I hate monkeys.”
    The rat twitched, its beady black eyes blinked open, and it got to its feet.
    “You just stunned him,” Bollo said to Lula. “Shoot him again.”
    Lula took aim and the rat charged