Cadix
Résumé:
Bounty hunter Stephanie Plum's got a lot on her mind. How
does cigarette smuggler Eddie DeChooch, a fugitive so geriatric
that even the hot-to-trot Grandma Mazur won't go out with him a
third time, keep giving her the slip? How did a woman who died
of a heart attack end up in DeChooch's garden shed with five
bullet holes in her chest? Who stole a rump roast from Dougie
and Mooner, the two lovable potheads who have decided to be
crime fighters in Spandex bodysuits? Can Stephanie's perfect
sister Valerie make it as a lesbian single mother without
driving her family crazy? And--oh yeah--what should Stephanie
do about that damn wedding dress on hold at Tina's Bridal
Shoppe, waiting for her to decide whether vice cop Joe
Morelli's really the one for her? I did look good in the gown.
I looked like Scarlett O' Hara getting ready for a big wedding
at Tara. I moved around a little to simulate dancing. "Jump up
and down so we can see how it'll look when you do the bunny
hop," Grandma said. "It's pretty but I don't want a gown," I
said. "I can order one in her size at no obligation," Tina
said. "No obligation," Grandma said. "You can't beat that." "As
long as there's no obligation," my mother said. I needed
chocolate. A lot of chocolate. "Oh gee," I said, "look at the
time. I need to go." To complicate matters further, Stephanie's
made a reluctant deal with the devil: if she can't bring in
DeChooch by herself, her sexy but dangerous cohort Ranger is
willing to help--for a price that a girl who's
not-exactly-engaged is uncertain whether she should pay. But
when Dougie and Mooner disappear, Grandma is kidnapped, and a
crazy widow starts taking pot shots, no one who hides her .38
in a cookie jar is going to turn down a little friendly
assistance. In Seven Up, Janet Evanovich serves up her usual
bubbly fare: a totaled car, raucous viewings at Stiva's Funeral
Parlor, buffoonish bad guys, and down-and-dirty mud wrestling,
all stirred up with some snappy Jersey repartee and a few tart,
new twists that will keep her fans impatient. Heaven can't wait
for number eight. --Barrie Trinkle