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“I’m not going home. I’m going to Italy.”
“She doesn’t have a passport,” the ticket agent said to me.
“I don’t need passport,” Bella said. “I’m old lady. I’m American citizen. We go where we want. I have credit card and money. Money talks, eh?”
“Let’s go home and look for your passport,” I said to Bella. “You can come back tomorrow.”
“You big liar,” Bella said. “God will strike you down.”
“Hey,” Lula said. “You can’t talk to Stephanie like that.”
“That’s it for you,” Bella said to Lula. “I’m giving you the eye.”
“For Pete’s sake,” I said to Bella. “That’s enough with the eye.”
“I give you one too,” Bella said.
“Okay,” I said, “how about if I put you in handcuffs.”
Bella held her arms out. “Look at this. This is how sick old ladies are treated. Handcuffed. Somebody take a picture.”
“You can’t handcuff her,” one of the cops said.
I pulled Bella’s papers out of my messenger bag. “I can handcuff her and forcibly remove her. She has an active bail bond and she’s obviously a flight risk.”
“Thank goodness,” the desk clerk said.
One of the cops scanned the papers and looked over at me. “Are you Stephanie Plum?”
“Yes,” I said.
He looked at the two cops behind him. “It’s Stephanie Plum!” he said.
Everyone was smiling.
“You’re the one who burned the funeral home down,” he said. “And last year you jumped out of the window of that hooker hotel. I saw your picture in the paper.”
I put the cuffs on Bella. “The funeral home wasn’t my fault,” I said. “It was an accident. And only part of it burned down.”
“Can I get a selfie?” the cop asked.
“Sure,” I said.
Everyone crowded in, several pictures were taken, and Lula and I escorted Bella out of the building.
“I don’t want to go to Italy anyway,” Bella said when we got to the car. “Everybody is dead there. Italy isn’t what it used to be.”
I got Bella secured in the backseat and I texted Morelli that I was bringing her home.
“You!” Bella said. “The fat one. Why your hair is big bushy pink.”
“First off, I’m not fat,” Lula said. “I’ve got an abundance of voluptuousness.”
“You look fat to me,” Bella said. “What about the hair?”
“I regard hair as a fashion accessory. I think hair should be fun.”
“So, you make it pink? I think you don’t know how to have fun.”
