Page 15 of Now or Never

“Yes. When we see activity in the house I’ll move across the street and stand by the SUV that’s parked next door. When I confront Jug, you can drive my car into the driveway and block his exit.”

“That’s a good plan,” Lula said. “I’ve seen people do that on television shows and it always works. Of course, last time we tried it you got your car all smashed up, but that might have been one of those freak occurrences.”

Curtains were drawn in the Jugs’ upstairs windows. At seven thirty a slim bar of light flashed on between the curtains.

“Showtime,” Lula said.

Fifteen minutes later lights went on in the Jugs’ kitchen. I left my Chevy Trailblazer and nonchalantly walked over and stood by the neighbor’s SUV. Jug’s front door opened and a fat Chihuahua waddled out onto the porch. The door closed and the Chihuahua made its way down the steps to the lawn. It wandered around in circles, hunched over, and pooped. It saw me standing by the SUV and moseyed over.

As they say, better to be lucky than good. Jug was going to come out to get his dog and I would bring the dog over to him. Done and done.

“Hey,” I crooned to the dog. “Aren’t you a cutie. One of my fiancés has a dog. He’s a lot bigger than you. His name is Bob.”I crouched down and let him sniff my hand. “You’re a friendly little guy.” I scratched him behind his ear, and he leaned into it. If he was a cat, he’d have been purring. I picked him up and kept doing the ear massage thing.

After a couple minutes the front door opened, and Jug stepped out onto the porch. He was wearing pajamas, and he had a piece of toast in his hand. He looked side to side, not seeing the dog.

“Mr. Big,” he called out. “Big!”

“Is that your name?” I asked the Chihuahua.

The dog didn’t say anything. It was concentrating on the ear scratches. I moved out from behind the van and walked toward Jug. Mr. Big was happily cuddled up in my arms, snuggled against my chest.

“Hi!” I said to Jug. “Is this your puppy? He wandered over to me.”

“He doesn’t usually leave the yard,” Jug said, “but he’s always had a weakness for pretty girls.”

I’d have been more flattered if this hadn’t been said to me by some old mob guy with a glob of oatmeal on his pajama top.

“You’re Bruno Jug,” I said.

“Yeah, and who are you?”

I put Mr. Big down on the ground, reached into my pocket, and pulled out cuffs. I clapped one on Jug’s wrist, and Lula drove my Trailblazer into his driveway.

“Stephanie Plum,” I said. “Apologies for the cuffs, but it’s protocol. I work for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, and you missed your court date. Lula and I will be happy to take you into town to get you rescheduled.”

“What the fuck,” he said. “I’m in my pajamas.”

Lula was out of the SUV and standing next to me.

“I can get a robe or a coat from your wife,” Lula said.

“What about my breakfast,” he said. “I’m not done.”

“This won’t take long,” I told him.

“My oatmeal will get cold. Tell Vinnie I’ll reschedule when I’m ready to reschedule.”

“I need to bring you in now,” I said.

“Take a hike,” he said, and he turned toward the house.

I grabbed his pajama top and yanked him back, and two buttons popped off. Jug stared down at the damaged top for a beat, looked at the bracelet on his wrist, and shifted his full attention to me.

“Uh-oh,” Lula said. “He got crazy eyes.”

I took a giant step back. “Sorry about the pajamas.”

Jug unclenched his teeth and glared at Mr. Big.“Kill!”

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