Get a sneak peek of Evanovich’s bounty hunter Stephanie Plum on her latest case.
Stephanie Plum is ready to read her suspects for filth because she is getting dirty.
Dirty Thirty,that is.
Author Janet Evanovich; Cover for ' Dirty Thirty'.Roland Scarpa; Atria Books
When Stephanie is offered a freelance assignment that seems open and shut, she agrees to take the case.
Local jeweler Martin Rabner asks her to find his former security guard, Andy Manley (a.k.a.
Nutsy), who Martin believes stole a fortune of diamonds from his safe.
Read on for your first taste ofDirty Thirtybelow.
Excerpt from Janet Evanovich’s Dirty Thirty
I’m Stephanie Plum.
Dugan is a big-ticket bond who failed to show for his court appearance.
Dugan was standing on a fourth-floor ledge.
He was a little chubby with short brown hair and his eyes were hidden behind aviator shades.
“He’s gonna jump,” Lula said to me.
“I got him pegged for a jumper.”
There was a large police presence in the area.
There were fire trucks and ambulances, and a satellite news truck was parked not far away.
“He probably don’t want to go to jail.
You should yell up to him and tell him jail isn’t so bad.
“I’m not yelling that up to him,” I said.
“That’s crazy talk.”
“Yeah, but is it true?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Hunh,” Lula said.
“There you have it.”
It was a nice October day in Trenton, New Jersey.
The sky was as blue as sky gets in Trenton and the sun was shining.
I was wearing jeans and sneakers and a hooded sweatshirt over my V-neck, fitted T-shirt.
Her hair was frizzed out into a big puffball and her fake lashes were furry black caterpillar quality.
Lula is a person of color and I’m a person of less color.
My eyes are blue.
My hair is brown, naturally curly, and shoulder length.
I make up for this by wearing lip gloss and smiling.
Lula justifies the small dress and large lashes by being Lula.
The fact is that it all works for her, and on a good day, she’s spectacular.
A woman pushed her way through the crowd and stepped out onto the street.
Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and cut into a simple bob with short bangs.
She was wearing a blue shirtwaist dress and blue running shoes.
“Duncan, you moron!”
she yelled up to Dugan.
“What the heck are you doing?”
“I’m gonna jump,” Dugan said.
“I screwed up.
I’m jumping to my death.”
“Well, you better take a header then, because you’re only on the fourth floor.
“I don’t like heights.
Four is as high as I can go.”
“I’ll go to jail.”
My uncle Fritz went to jail, and he said it wasn’t so bad.
He got free room and board and he got to make a bunch of new friends.”
“Fritz said that?”
“More or less.
Anyway, it won’t be for so long, and in the meantime we can talk.”
“What would we talk about?”
He looked over at the window.
“I don’t want to get broken bones.”
“You see?”
Lula said to me.
Although the business about broken bones was a good addition.”
Dugan turned to get to the window, his foot slipped, and he fell off the ledge.
I’m not normally a fainter, but I came close to fainting when I heard him hit.
I bent at the waist, sucked in air, and fought the nausea.
When I straightened up, Dugan was surrounded by paramedics and police.
“Do you think he’s okay?”
“Not even a little,” I said.
“They’re bringing a stretcher over,” Lula said.
“That might be a good sign.”
One of Dugan’s arms came up and he did a little finger wave.
“I’m okay,” he said.
“Sort of.”
The crowd dispersed after the wave and message from Dugan, but Lula and I stayed.
The paramedics finally lifted Dugan onto the stretcher and rolled him off to the ambulance.
I knew one of the men.
“Where are you taking him?”
I yelled to Jerry.
He turned and waved at me.
“The medical center.”
I gave him a thumbs-up, and Lula and I walked down the street to my car.
