Three to Get Deadly (Stephanie Plum, #3)

by Janet Evanovich

Damn Morelli, I thought. He has a lot of nerve getting involved with some other woman.

I wasn’t afraid of the dark, but I wasn’t in love with it either. Well, okay, I was afraid of the dark.

“A woman’s never too old to make an idiot of herself. It goes along with equality of the sexes and potty parity.”

It wasn’t good to have a cop for an enemy.

I make lots of mistakes. I try hard not to make the same mistake more than three or four times.

“You gotta admit, he makes a cute chicken,”

“He squirted me with special sauce! I’m gonna have to get this jacket dry-cleaned.” “It was your own fault, Fatty,” Stuart said. “You made me do it.” “That’s it,” Lula said. “Out of my way. I’m gonna kill him.”

Nothing like packing a pistol to put spring in a girl’s step.

“Seems like anymore, all the buff bodies are gay, and all the bad-smelling, rangy men are straight. I find out Ranger’s gay and I’m going straight to the freezer section at Shop & Bag. Only men you can count on these days is Ben and Jerry.”

Used to be I worried about losing my boyfriends to Joyce Barnhardt. Now I had to worry about losing them to her brother, Kevin.

I was so happy I was practically suicidal.

“This is a social call.” “Even worse.” The chest flutterings stopped.

“It’s been my sad observation that cops don’t make wonderful husbands. In all good conscience, I’d have to marry someone I didn’t especially like, so I wouldn’t feel crummy about ruining her life.” “So you’d marry someone like me?” Morelli’s face creased into a broad smile. “I hate to admit this, but I actually like you. You’re out of the race.”

“It keeps stalling. Joe Morelli suggested I come here. He said you’re a good mechanic.” “He gave you a pretty good recommendation, too. Read it on the bathroom wall of Mario’s Sub Shop over ten years ago, and I can still remember every word of it.”

“Whoever was out there must have knocked the garbage can over trying to get a better look.” “You don’t seem very upset by this.” There were dishes drying in a drainer on the sink. A dinner plate, a cereal bowl, a couple glasses. Morelli grabbed the dinner plate and threw it hard against the opposite wall, where it smashed into a million pieces. “Okay,” I said. “So I was wrong.”

The only thing worse than being scared out of my wits was having Morelli know it.

I knew things about myself now, and about human nature, that nice girls from the burg weren’t supposed to know.

Threatening my hamster brought out a whole new set of rules. Threatening my hamster made me Godzilla. I had no intention of saying good-bye to my hamster.

“I’m serious, Stephanie. I don’t want you messing with this.” “Jesus, Joe, don’t you ever stop being a cop?” “This has nothing to do with being a cop.”

Sometimes I amazed even myself. How could a person’s instincts be so wrong and at the same time so right?

We stared at each other for a moment, and then he hefted a rocket launcher to his shoulder. There was a flash of fire and a pfnufff! And my truck blew up, its doors shooting off into space like Frisbees.

“Good thing Morelli and a bunch of cops were following that Freedom Church van,” Lula said. “We would have been toast.” “The cops were following the Freedom van. Morelli was following me.” “Lucky you,”

“Well, I have a garage, and I know a game…” Oh boy. “I think I know this game.” The smile spread to his eyes. “Yeah?” “It has to do with…transportation. Trains and such.” “I’ve learned some new routes since the last time we played,”