Four to Score - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,39

"It's old lady Nowicki, driving half in the bag."

Mrs. Nowicki lurched out of the car and swayed over. "I heard that, and I'm not half in the bag. If I was half in the bag I'd be a lot happier."

She was dressed in poison-green spandex. She'd troweled on full face makeup, a cigarette was stuck in the corner of her mouth and wisps of orange frizz framed a poison-green turban . . . which I knew hid a freshly scalped head.

She looked at my car and gave a bark of laughter. "This yours?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't anybody tell you the gasoline's supposed to go in the tank?"

"Something you want to see me about?"

"I'm leaving town," Mrs. Nowicki said. "And I have some news for you. Maxine would be real mad if she knew I told you this, but I think you were right about it being better you found her than . . . you know."

"You've heard from her?"

"She brought her car around for me. Said she didn't need it anymore."

"Where is she?"

"Well, she used to be in Point Pleasant, like I thought. But she said people got wind of that so she's moved to Atlantic City. She wouldn't give me an address, but I know she likes to play at Bally's Park Place. Thinks the odds are better there."

"You're sure?"

"Well, pretty sure." She took a deep drag on the cigarette which just about wore it down to the filter. Blue smoke filtered out her nose, and she flicked the butt away. It hit the pavement, rolled under my car and . . . phunff!The car ignited.

"YIKES!" Lula and I yelped, jumping back.

The car was engulfed in a big yellow fireball.

"FIRE! FIRE!" Lula and I hollered.

Mrs. Nowicki turned to look. "What?"

KABOOM! There was an explosion, Mrs. Nowicki got knocked on her ass, and a second fireball erupted. Lula's Firebird!

"My car! My baby!" Lula yelled. "Do something! Do something!"

People were pouring out of the building, and sirens wailed in the distance. Lula and I stooped over Mrs. Nowicki, who was stretched out on the pavement, face up, eyes wide.

"Uh oh," Lula said. "You aren't gonna be dead again, are you?"

"I need a cigarette," Mrs. Nowicki said. "Light me up."

A squad car slid into the lot, lights flashing. Carl Costanza got out of the car and walked over to me. "Pretty good," he said. "Looks like you blew up two cars this time."

"One was Lula's."

"We gonna have to look for body parts? Last time you blew up a car we found body parts a block away."

"You only found one single foot a block away. Most of the parts were right here in the lot. Personally, I think Mrs. Burlew's dog carried the foot there."

"So what about this time? We gotta go looking for feet?"

"Both cars were unoccupied. Mrs. Nowicki got shook up, but I think she's okay."

"She's so okay, she left," Lula said. "She could do that on account of her piece-of-junk car didn't get cooked."

"She left?" My voice sounded like Minnie Mouse's. I couldn't believe she left after causing the accident.

"Just this second," Lula said. "Saw her just leave the lot."

I looked out to St. James, and an unsettling thought flashed into my head. "You don't suppose she did this on purpose, do you?"

"Blew up both our cars so we couldn't go off looking for her daughter? You think she's smart enough to think of something like that?"

THE FIRE TRUCKS left first, then the police, then the tow trucks. And now all that was left was a charred, sanded spot on the blacktop.

"Oh well," Lula said. "Easy come, easy go."

"You don't seem very upset. I thought you loved that car."

"Well the radio wasn't working right, and it got a ding on the side of the door at the supermarket. I can go out and get a new one now. Soon as I get the paperwork done I'm going car shopping. Nothing I like better than car shopping."

Nothing I hated more than car shopping. I'd rather have a mammogram than go car shopping. I never had enough money to get a car I really liked. And then there were the car salesmen . . . second only to dentists in their ability to inflict pain. Ick. An involuntary shiver gripped my spine.

"See, I'm one of those positive type people," Lula went on. "My glass isn't half empty. Nuh uh. My glass is always half full. That's why I'm making something of myself. And anyway, there's people lots worse off than me. I didn't spend my

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