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The next Stephanie Plum novel, in which complications arise, loyalties are tested, cliffhangers are resolved, and donuts are eaten.

Stephanie Plum Novels #15
St. Martin's Press
July 2009
On Sale: June 23, 2009
Featuring: Lulu; Stephanie Plum
320 pages
ISBN: 0312383282
EAN: 9780312383282
Kindle: B00FO7JQHW
Hardcover / e-Book
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FINGER LICKIN' FIFTEEN

Janet Evanovich

Janet Evanovich
Author Book List

Unbuckle Your Belt And Pull Up A Chair. It's The Spiciest, Sauciest, Most Rib-Sticking Plum Yet.

Recipe for disaster:

Celebrity chef Stanley Chipotle comes to Trenton to participate in a barbecue cook-off and loses his head --literally.

Throw in some spice:

Bail bonds office worker Lula is witness to the crime, and the only one she’ll talk to is Trenton cop, Joe Morelli.

Pump up the heat:

Chipotle’s sponsor is offering a million dollar reward to anyone who can provide information leading to the capture of the killers.

Stir the pot:

Lula recruits bounty hunter Stephanie Plum to help her find the killers and collect the moolah.

Add a secret ingredient:

Stephanie Plum’s Grandma Mazur. Enough said.

Bring to a boil:

Stephanie Plum is working overtime tracking felons for the bonds office at night and snooping for security expert Carlos Manoso, A.K.A. Ranger, during the day. Can Stephanie hunt down two killers, a traitor, five skips, keep her grandmother out of the sauce, solve Ranger’s problems and not jump his bones?

Warning:

Habanero hot. So good you’ll want seconds.

Excerpt

One

WHEN I WAS a kid, I was afraid of spiders and vegetables.
As
an adult, I’ve eliminated vegetables from my fright-o-
meter,
but I’ve added a whole bunch of other stuff. Homicidal
maniacs, serial rapists, cellulite, Joe Morelli’s Grandma
Bella, rabid bats, and any form of organized exercise.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and I work as a bond
enforcement
officer for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. It’s not a great
job,
but it allows me to avoid organized exercise, and I
hardly
ever encounter rabid bats. The remaining fright-o-meter
items lurk in the dark shadows of my daily life.
Fortunately, there are also good things in those shadows.
Joe Morelli without his Grandma Bella, fellow bounty
hunter
Ranger without his clothes, my crazy family, my hamster,
Rex
. . . and Lula. Lula actually fits somewhere between the
rabid bats and the good stuff. She’s a former ’ho, now
working as the office file clerk and apprentice bounty
hunter. Lula’s got a plus-size personality and body, and
a
petite-size wardrobe. She’s got brown skin, blond hair,
and
last week she had tiny rhinestones pasted onto her
eyelids.

It was Monday morning. Connie, the office manager, and I
were in the bonds office enjoying our morning coffee, and
Lula slid her red Firebird to a stop at the curb. We
watched
Lula through the big plate-glass window in the front of
the
small office, and we did a joint grimace. Lula was in a
state. She lurched out of the Firebird, beeped it locked,
and burst into the office, her eyes wild, rolling around
in
their sockets, her hands waving in the air.

"I saw it all," she said. "It was terrible. It was
horrible.
I couldn’t believe it was happening. And right in front
of
me." She looked around. "What do we got? Do we got
doughnuts? ’Cause I need a doughnut. I need a whole bag.
And
maybe I need one of them breakfast sandwiches with the
egg
and cheese and bacon and grease. I got a big grease
craving."

I knew it would be a huge mistake to ask Lula what she’d
seen, but I couldn’t stop myself.

"What was terrible and horrible?" I asked.

Connie leaned forward, elbows on her desk, already
knowing
the telling of the story would be a car crash. Connie is
a
couple years older than me, and while my heritage is half
Hungarian and half Italian, Connie is Italian through and
through. Her hair is jet black, her lipstick is fire-
engine
red, her body is va-va-voom.

Lula paced in front of Connie’s desk. "First off, I
hardly
had time for anything this morning. I had a big date last
night, and by the time I booted his butt out of my bed, I
already missed a lot of my beauty sleep. Anyways, I got
up
late, and then I couldn’t decide what to wear. One day
it’s
hot out and next thing it’s cold. And then I had to
decide
if I needed to wear shoes that kicked ass or were good
for
ass kicking, on account of there’s a difference, you
know."

"Jeez Louise," Connie said. "Could you get to it?"

"The point bein’ I was late," Lula said. "I was tryin’ to
put makeup on and drive, and I missed a turn, and before
I
knew it I was someplace I didn’t want to be. So I pulled
over to look around and figure things out, and when I did
that my makeup case rolled off the seat next to me, and
everything went all over the floor. So I was bent over to
get my makeup, and I guess it looked like there was no
one
in the car, because when I came back up there were two
big
hairy morons standing right in front of my Firebird, and
they were removing a head from some guy’s body."

"Excuse me?"

"This one moron had a giant meat cleaver. And the other
moron had a hold of this man in a suit. And whack! No
head.
The head popped off its neck and bounced down the
street."

"And then what happened?" Connie said.

"Then they saw me," Lula said. "They looked real
surprised.
And I know I looked real surprised. And then I laid down
about two feet of rubber and took off."

"Do you know who they were?"

"No."

"Did you know the guy in the suit?"

"No, but it was a real nice suit. And he had a nice
striped
tie, too."

"Did you go to the police?" Connie asked.

"No. I came straight here. It’s not like the police were
gonna put Humpty Dumpty back together again," Lula said.
"Didn’t seem like there was a big rush, and I needed a
doughnut. Holy cow. Holy shit. I really need a doughnut."

"You need to call the police," Connie told Lula.

"I hate the police. They give me the willies. Except for
Stephanie’s Morelli. He’s a hottie."

Joe Morelli is a Trenton plainclothes cop, and Lula is
right
about Morelli being a hottie, but Lula is wrong about
Morelli belonging to me. Morelli and I have had an
off-and-on relationship for as long as I can remember,
and
we are currently off. Two weeks ago, we had a
disagreement
over peanut butter that turned into a disagreement over
everything under the sun, and we haven’t seen each other
since.

Connie dialed into the police band, and we listened for a
couple minutes to see if we could pick up anything to do
with decapitation.

"Where did this happen?" Connie asked.

"The three hundred block of Ramsey Street. It was right
in
front of the Sunshine Hotel."

The Sunshine Hotel is a roach farm that rents rooms by
the
hour. No one coming or going from the Sunshine Hotel
would
ever report anything to anyone.

"I seen lots of stuff," Lula said, "but this was
disgustin’.
Blood shot out like one of them oil gushers. And when the
head hit the ground, I swear the eyes were lookin’ at me.
I
guess I need to tell the police, but I only want
Morelli."
Lula fixed on me. "You gotta call Morelli."

"No way. I’m not talking to him. You can call him."

"I don’t know him like you know him."

"I don’t know him that way anymore. I’m done with him.
He’s
a jerk."

"All men are jerks," Lula said. "That don’t mean they
aren’t
good for some things. And Morelli’s a hot jerk. He could
be
a movie star or a underwear model if he wasn’t a cop. He
got
all that wavy black hair and dreamy brown bedroom eyes.
He’s
kind of puny compared to some men I know, but he’s hot
all
the same."

Morelli was actually six foot tall and solid muscle, but
Lula used to be engaged to a guy who was a cross between
an
Army tank and Sasquatch, so I suppose by comparison
Morelli
might measure up short.

"I’ll call Morelli," Connie said. "He’s a cop, for crying
out loud. You don’t need a complicated relationship to
call
a cop."

I was halfway to the door. "I’m leaving. Things to do.
And I
don’t want to see Morelli."

"Oh no," Lula said. "You get your boney ass back here.
We’re
in this together. Through thick and through thin."

"Since when?"

"Since now. And before that, too. Remember when I rescued
you from that big snake in the mobile home? And what
about
when we were lost in the Pine Barrens?"

"You ran screaming like a little girl when you thought
you
saw the snake. And Ranger found us in the Pine Barrens."

"Yeah, but if he hadn’t found us, I would have got us
out."

"You were up to your armpits in a cranberry bog."

"I don’t never want to see another cranberry, neither,"
Lula
said.

Twenty minutes later, Morelli sauntered in to the bonds
office. He was dressed in jeans and running shoes, a blue
button-down shirt that was open at the neck, and a navy
blazer. He looked entirely edible and a little wary.

"What’s up?" Morelli asked, eyes on me.

Okay, so I was no longer interested in Morelli. At least
I
was pretty sure I wasn’t interested. Still, I was wishing
I’d spent more time on my hair and makeup this morning,
so
he’d feel really rotten about what he was missing. I have
naturally curly shoulder-length brown hair that was
currently pulled back into a ponytail. I have blue eyes
that
look a lot better when they have a swipe of liner and
mascara, an okay mouth that so far hasn’t needed
artificial
plumping, and a little nose that I consider my best
feature.
Morelli always thought my best feature was located
considerably lower on my body.

"It was horrible! It was terrible!" Lula said. "I almost
fainted."

Morelli shifted his attention to Lula. He didn’t say
anything, but he looked over at her and raised his
eyebrows
a little.

"I never saw nothin’ like it," Lula told him. "One
minute, I
was having a day like any other, and then whack and this
guy
didn’t have no head. And blood came out of him like he
was a
fountain. And when his head hit the ground, his eyes were
lookin’ at me. And I think the head might have smiled at
me,
too, but I’m not sure of that."

Morelli was back on his heels, thumbs hooked into his
jeans
pockets. "Is this for real?"

"Hell yeah," Lula said. "Who makes up shit like that?
Don’t
I look traumatized? I’m practically turned white. I think
my
hand might even be shaking. Look at my hand. Is it
shaking?"

Morelli’s eyes cut back to me. "Were you with her?"

"Nope."

"Did anyone call 911?"

"Nope."

Lula was hands on hips, starting to look pissed. "We
called
you," she said to Morelli.

Morelli did a fast office scan. "You don’t have the head
here, do you?"

"So far as I know, the head and everything else is still
in
front of the Sunshine Hotel," Lula told him. "And I’m not
sure I like your attitude. I’m not sure you’re takin’
this
seriously."

Morelli stared down at his shoe. Hard to tell if he was
trying hard not to laugh or if he was getting a migraine.
After a five-count, he took out his cell phone, called
dispatch, and sent a uniform to the Sunshine Hotel.

"Okay, ladies," Morelli said when he got off the phone.
"Let’s take a field trip."

I made a big show of looking at my watch. "Gee, I’ve got
to
run. Things to do."

"No way," Lula said. "I need someone with me in case I
get
faint or something."

"You’ll have him," I said.

"He’s a fine man, but he’s the cop representative here,
and
I need someone from my posse, you see what I’m saying. I
need a BFF."

"It’s not gonna be me," Connie said. "Vinnie is picking
up a
skip in Atlanta, and I have to run the office."

Morelli looked at me and gave his head a small shake,
like
he didn’t believe any of this. Like I was a huge,
unfathomable pain in the ass, and in fact maybe that was
how
he felt about women in general right now.

I understood Morelli’s point of view because it was
precisely my current feeling about men.

"Terrific," I said on a sigh. "Let’s get on with it."

Lula and I followed Morelli in my ten-year-old Ford
Escort
that used to be blue. We didn’t take the Escort because
we
liked riding in it. We took it because Lula thought she
might be too overwrought to drive her Firebird, and she
suspected she would need a bacon cheeseburger after
visiting
the scene of the crime and Morelli might not be inclined
to
find a drive-through for her.

______

THERE WERE ALREADY two cruisers angled into the curb in
front of the Sunshine Hotel when Lula and I arrived. I
parked, and Lula and I got out and stood next to Morelli
and
a couple uniforms. We all looked down at a red splotch
that
sprayed out over about a four-foot diameter. A couple
smaller splotches trailed off the big splotch, and I
assumed
that was where the head had hit the pavement. I felt a
wave
of nausea slide through my stomach, and I started to
sweat.

"This here’s the spot," Lula said. "You can see it’s just
like I told you. There was a big gusher of blood when
they
whacked the head off. It was like Old Faithful going off,
only it was blood. And then the head rolled down the
sidewalk. It was like the head was a bowlin’ ball with
eyes.
And the eyes were like big googly eyes kinda popping out
of
the head and lookin’ at me. And I think I might have
heard
the head laughin’, or maybe it was the guys who did the
whackin’ who were laughin’."

The uniforms all did a grimace, Morelli was impassive,
and I
threw up. Everyone jumped away from me, I gagged one last
time and did some deep breathing.

"Sorry," I said.

"No problem," Morelli told me. "I feel like throwing up a
lot on this job."

One of the uniforms brought me some paper towels and a
bottle of water, and Lula stood a good distance away.

"You got lots of room for lunch now that you’re empty,"
she
yelled to me. "I could get a early start with one of them
extra-crispy bird burgers they’re servin’ at
Cluck-in-a-Bucket. Have you heard about them? They got
some
new secret sauce."