Free High Five by Janet Evanovich Page B

wearing a canary-yellow spandex miniskirt and a stretchy top that was at least two sizes too small. Her hair was orange. Her lipstick was bright pink. And her eyelids were gold glitter.
    We heard her say, “Hello, handsome,” to Bunchy, and then she lowered her voice, and we couldn’t hear any more.
    â€œMaybe you should try to sneak away while Lula’s got his attention,” Connie said. “Maybe you could roll the Buick back nice and easy, and he won’t notice.”
    I thought chances of Bunchy not noticing were pretty slim, but I was willing to try. I quickly walked to the car, snuck in on the curb side, and slid behind the wheel. I released the emergency brake, held my breath, and turned the key in the ignition.
Varoooom.
A V8 does
not
sneak.
    Bunchy and Lula both turned to look at me. I saw Bunchy say something to Lula. And Lula grabbed Bunchy by the shirt-front and yelled
“Go!”
to me. “I got him,” she said. “You can count on me!”
    Bunchy slapped at her hand, and Lula squashed herself into the car window with her big yellow ass hanging out, looking from the outside like Pooh Bear stuck in the rabbit hole. She had Bunchy by the neck, and when I drove by I saw her plant a kiss square on his mouth.
    M ABEL WAS IN the kitchen making tea when I got there.
    â€œAnything new in the investigation?” she asked.
    â€œI talked to the man who was looking for Fred. He says he’s Fred’s bookie. Did you know Fred was gambling?”
    â€œNo.” She paused with the tea bag in her hand. “Gambling,” she said, testing the word. “I had no idea.”
    â€œHe could be lying,” I said.
    â€œWhy would he do that?”
    Good question. If Bunchy wasn’t a bookie, then what? What was his involvement?
    â€œAbout those pictures,” I said to Mabel. “Do you have any idea when they might have been taken?”
    Mabel added water to her teapot. “I think it must have been recently because I never saw them before. I don’t go into Fred’s desk all the time, but every now and then I need something. And I never saw any pictures. Fred doesn’t take pictures. Years ago, when the kids were little, we used to take pictures. Now Ronald and Walter bring us pictures of the grandchildren. We don’t even own a camera anymore. Last year we had to take pictures of the roof for the insurance company, and we got one of those disposable cameras.”
    I left Mabel to her tea and got back behind the wheel. I looked up and down the street. So far, so good. No Bunchy.
    My next stop was the strip mall where Fred did his shopping. I parked in the same area where Fred’s car was found. It was about the same time of day. Weather was similar. Seventy and sunny. There were enough people moving around that a scuffle would be noticed. A man walking around dazed would probably be noticed too, but I didn’t think that’s what I was looking for.
    First Trenton was located at the end of the strip mall. It was a branch office with a drive-through window outside and full-service banking inside. Leona Freeman was a teller at First Trenton. She was a second cousin on my mother’s side, a couple years older than me, and she had a head start on the family thing, with four kids, two dogs, and a nice husband.
    Business was slow when I walked in, and Leona waved at me from behind the counter. “Stephanie!”
    â€œHey, Leona, how’s it going?”
    â€œPretty good. What’s with you? You want some money? I gotta lot.”
    I grinned.
    â€œBank joke,” Leona said.
    â€œDid you hear about Fred going missing?”
    â€œI heard. He was in here right before it happened.”
    â€œDid you see him?”
    â€œYeah, sure. He got money from the machine, and then he went in to see Shempsky.”
    Leona and I went to school with Allen Shempsky. He was an okay guy who’d worked his way up the ladder and was now a