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“I think he's embarrassed,” Valerie said. “I mean, how would it look? Suppose somebody took a picture, and it got in the paper? No one would ever hire him, and I'd be out of a job.”
“No one hires him now,” I said. I tried the door. I tried pushing buttons. I looked for a safety latch. “I'm scoring a big zero here,” I said.
“There's something wrong with that dryer,” the lady in the blue sweater said. “It's always getting stuck like that. There's something wrong with the lock. I wrote out a complaint about it last week, but nobody ever does nothing around here. The vending machine with the soap doesn't work, either.”
“I really think we need help,” I said to Valerie. “I think we should call the police.”
There was more frantic movement and more of the no, no, no. And then there was something that sounded like a fart coming from inside the dryer.
Valerie and I took a step back.
“I think he's nervous,” Valerie said.
Probably there was some sort of door release on the inside, but Kloughn was wedged in and couldn't turn to face the latch.
I fished around in the bottom of my bag and found some change. I dropped a quarter into the slot, turned the heat down to low, and started the dryer tumbling.
Kloughn's mumbling turned to shrieking, and Kloughn bounced around some, but for the most part he seemed fairly stable. After five minutes the dryer stopped tumbling. You don't get a heck of a lot for a quarter these days.
The door opened easy as anything, and Valerie and I pulled Kloughn out and stood him up. His hair was all fluffy. The kind of fluff you see on a baby robin. He was warm and smelled nice, like fresh ironing. His face was red, and his eyes were glassy.
“I think I farted,” he said.
“You know what?” the lady in the blue sweater said. “I found my ring. It wasn't in the dryer after all. I put it in my pocket and forgot.”
“That's nice,” Kloughn
said, his eyes unfocused, a little drool at the corner of his mouth.
Valerie and I had him propped up by his armpits.
“We're going to the office now,” I said to Kloughn. “Try walking.”
“Everything's still spinning. I'm out of the machine, right? I'm just dizzy, right? I can still hear the motor. I've got the motor in my head.” Kloughn moved his legs like Frankenstein's monster. “I can't feel my feet,” he said. “My feet fell asleep.”
We half dragged, half pushed him back to the office and sat him in a chair.
“That was just like a ride,” he said. “Did you see me going around in there? Like a fun house, right? Like an amusement park. I ride all those rides. I'm used to that sort of thing. I sit right up front.”
“Really?”
“Well, no. But I think about it.”
“Isn't he cute,” Valerie said. And she kissed him on top of his fluffy head.
“Gosh,” Kloughn said, smiling wide. “Gee.”
Stephanie Plum 8 - Hard Eight
11
I DECLINED ON an offer of lunch from Kloughn, choosing instead to go to the bonds office.
“Anything new?” I asked Connie. “I'm all out of FTAs.”
“What about Bender?”
“I wouldn't want to cut in on Vinnie.”
