Naughty Neighbor - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,5

didn’t steal your paper. I borrowed it. And I didn’t get your windows pulverized. It was fate.”

“It wasn’t fate, you imbecile! You constantly park in my parking space! Haven’t you noticed there are numbers painted at curbside? Your car belongs in the space marked ten-thirty-eight B. My car belongs in the space marked ten-thirty-eight A. It’s easy to remember. It coincides with our mailing address.”

Dear Lord, she thought, the only homo erectus dumber than this guy was the one who’d attacked her car.

“Boy, you get uptight about the damnedest things,” Pete said. “You need to relax a little.”

“I used to be relaxed. I used to be well adjusted. I used to sleep nights. Then you moved in. You were gone for months. Why did you have to come back? You probably find it hard to believe, but there wasn’t a single shoot-out in this neighborhood while you were away.”

“Boring, huh?”

The man was dealing drugs, she decided. Fabulous hair, Hollywood-type, drove an expensive car. Next thing the house would probably be machine-gunned by some rival drug lord. Tomorrow she’d look for a new place to live.

“I don’t want to know any more about this,” Louisa said. “I didn’t see it. I’m going to pretend it never happened. I didn’t like the car, anyway. It’s the wrong color black.”

She was babbling, Pete thought. She was on the edge. Probably because of her lousy sex life. Abstinence did terrible things to a person’s disposition. He knew firsthand because lately his sex life wasn’t all that great, either.

“I guess we should call the police,” he said.

She looked at her watch. She didn’t have time for the police. “I’ll call the police tomorrow.”

“Bad move,” Streeter said. “If you call the police now, they might be able to catch the guys.”

“Listen,” Louisa said, “I’m supposed to be at a cocktail party at my boss’s house right now, and if I don’t show up, I’m going to be in deep doodoo. You call the police. You probably have lots of experience with the police, anyway.”

“Hold it,” Pete said. “How are you going to get to this party?”

“I’ll call a cab.”

Pete stood there for a moment, grappling with an odd mixture of lust and guilt. He supposed he was, to some extent, responsible for the damage to her car. He shoved his hand into his pocket and came up with a key.

“That’s not necessary. You can drive my Porsche.”

Louisa felt her mouth drop open. His car? The car someone wanted to disintegrate? Was he kidding? “Nice of you to offer, but I couldn’t possibly…”

She was probably reluctant to take him up on his offer because he had such a great car, he decided. She was afraid she’d get it scratched or something. He thought that was sweet. He took her by the elbow and pulled her down the stairs.

“Don’t worry about scratching it. It already has a scratch. It’s on the right front fender just above the headlight.”

She dug her heels in. “I’m not driving your car.”

He gave her a shove. “What’s your name?”

“Louisa Brannigan.”

He opened the driver’s side door to the Porsche and settled her in.

“Okay, Lou, have a good time and try to keep your speed down. It shimmies a little at one-twenty.”

“Louisa! My name is Louisa!”

“Whatever.”

Chapter 2

Louisa sampled a crab puff and smiled pleasantly at Sam Gundy. The man made shoes—lots of them. And he was telling Louisa exactly how it was done.

Louisa felt her eyes begin to cross and snapped herself to attention. She took a quick peek around the room. Everything seemed to be running smoothly.

Nolan was courting big business tonight, looking to replenish almost empty campaign coffers. He’d chosen his guests carefully. They were all good party members, all very wealthy, all very boring. Nolan knew better than to be upstaged when he wanted money. He always made sure he was the best dressed, best looking, most politically powerful person in the room when he made his pitch for support. And he always invited a few members of the press to his parties. It helped him achieve “star quality,” he said. Nolan was big on “star quality.”

Nolan was a man on the way up. And Louisa knew if she did her job well, she’d go up with him.

“You ever been inside a shoe factory?” Sam asked Louisa.

“No sir, I haven’t.”

“It’s pretty exciting.”

“I bet.”

Female laughter rose above the murmurings of polite society. Nothing alarming, but loud enough to catch Louisa’s attention. Nolan had a small staff, and they all wore several hats. Among