Fearless Fourteen - Janet Evanovich [83]
“I got a hour appointment with these bitches,” she said, “and the clock’s ticking.”
“You’re in a bathrobe.”
“It took less time than getting back in my clothes.”
I fastened my seat belt and we rocketed away. “I thought you were having second thoughts about marrying an alcoholic.”
“Yeah, but I had this appointment, and I didn’t want to lose it. I might have to wait weeks to get another appointment. I mean, even if I don’t marry Tank, chances are good I’ll marry someone else someday. Might as well get the gown, I figure.”
“You might want to rethink that plan.”
“Yeah, it’s insane, right? It’s that I have momentum. You see what I’m saying? It’s all in motion and it don’t stop. Turns out, that’s how it is with weddings. You just keep getting in deeper and deeper until you want to throw up.”
Lula hooked a left, cut across traffic, and zipped into the small parking lot that attached to the bridal salon. We got out and hurried into the showroom.
“You sit down, and I’ll put the gown on,” Lula said.
I was halfway through a magazine when she rustled out of the dressing room. The gown was brilliant white satin and fit like skin from Lula’s ankles to her armpits. It was strapless and had a bustle in the back over her ass and a twelve-foot train that stretched out behind her.
“We like this one because it’s so slimming,” the saleswoman said. “We think it hugs her curves and is very flattering. She’s a lucky lady that we had her size in stock.”
“All it needs is some of them crystal beads to make it sparkle,” Lula said. “They said they could sew them on.”
The gown was slimming because it was two sizes too small and squished in all Lula’s fat and pushed it up until there was no more gown. She was spilling out of the top in rolls of Lula. She had cleavage everywhere . . . front, back, side.
“It’s pretty,” I said, “but there seems to be a lot of you oozing over the top. Maybe you should go up a size.”
“They don’t got this in a bigger size,” Lula said. “And anyway, I don’t want it too big on account of I’m planning to lose some weight.”
I heard something pop and fly off the back of the dress, and the zipper burst open.
“Hunh,” Lula said. “This here seems to be shoddy workmanship.”
Ten minutes later, Lula dropped me at Morelli’s.
“Boy,” Lula said. “I dodged that bullet. Those people don’t know how to sew.”
“You might consider getting married in a dress instead of a gown,” I said. “It wouldn’t even have to be white.”
“And it could be more representative of my outgoing personality,” Lula said. “It could be animal print. You know how I’m partial to animal print.”
“And it would be practical because you could wear it even if you didn’t get married.”
“I’m psyched,” Lula said. “I’m going to the mall. You want to come?”
“No. Morelli should be getting off his shift right about now and I need to talk to him.”
_______
I WAS IN the kitchen, eating pizza, when Morelli rolled in. He helped himself to a piece from the box and went to the refrigerator in search of beer.
“My refrigerator is filled with potatoes,” he said, door open, face bathed in refrigerator light. “They’re everywhere. I’ve got potatoes in the egg holder.”
“Ammo. I think the beer is behind the half-baked.”
He moved some potatoes around and grunted when he found the beer. “Zook’s a terrific kid, but I feel displaced. Bad enough Mooner is always here, now we’ve got Gary. Once, I got up in the middle of the night to get water, and I swear I saw him sitting in a lawn chair in front of my garage.”
“Imagine that,” I said. “How odd.”
“Have you heard from the partner?”
“No. The ball’s in our court.”
Morelli took a second piece of pizza. “This is bad. Either someone is leaking information or the guy is inside.”
“Or maybe he’s some genius computer geek that can tap into phones and computers.”
Morelli shook his head. “That only happens in the movies. This guy knew about the van and the money. I didn’t tell anyone, and Spanner swears he didn’t tell anyone. I know the Fed who’s running the show, and