Two for the Dough (Stephanie Plum, #2)

by Janet Evanovich

Any intelligent woman would have made a dignified retreat, but this was New Jersey, where dignity always runs a poor second to the pleasure of getting in someone’s face.

Some people learn from books, some listen to the advice of others, some learn from mistakes. I fit into the last category.

“You’re not doing too good here, babe,” Morelli said. “You’ve had your car stolen, your apartment vandalized, and someone tried to snuff your hamster. Maybe you should drop back and punt.” “You’re worried about me.” “Yeah.” We both shuffled our feet some at this.

Feathery clouds had stolen into the sky, and the wind had picked up since I left my apartment this morning. Leaves rattled across the street and whipped against the windshield. I thought if I sat there long enough I’d probably see Piglet soar by.

I attempted to park behind him, misjudged, and took out his right taillight. Morelli got out of his car and examined the damage. “You did that on purpose,” he said. “I didn’t! It’s this Buick. You can’t tell where it ends.”

He was watching television when I came out of my bedroom ten minutes later. I was wearing a granny dress over a white T-shirt, with ankle-high brown lace-up boots, and an oversized, loose-weave cardigan sweater. It was my Annie Hall look, and it made me feel feminine, but it always had the opposite effect on the opposite sex. Annie Hall was guaranteed to wilt the most determined dick. It was better than Mace on a blind date.