"One second. I'll give you my business card." I had my head in my bag, scrounging for my defense spray. If I couldn't get him to walk through the door, I'd give him a shot of spray and drag him out.

I heard more footsteps on the carpet and looked up to find a woman striding toward us. She was slim and pretty with short blond hair. She was wearing a gray suit and heels, and her expression turned serious when she saw me with Kenny.

"Now I see the problem," she said to Kenny. "Your mother sent me to fetch you, but it looks like you've got a complication here."

"No complication," Kenny said. "Just tell her to keep her shirt on."

"Oh yeah," the woman said. "I'm going to tell your mother to keep her shirt on. That's like a death wish." She looked to me, and then she looked to Kenny, and then she smiled. "You don't know, do you?" she asked Kenny.

I was still searching for the spray. Hair brush, flashlight, travel pack of tampons. Damn it, where was the spray?

"Know what?" Kenny said. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you ever read the paper? This is Stephanie Plum. She blew up the funeral home last year. She's a bounty hunter."

"You're shitting me!"

Oh boy.

3

KENNY GAVE ME a shot to the shoulder that knocked me back a couple of feet. "Is that true, what Terry said? Are you a bounty hunter?"

"Hey!" I said. "Keep your hands off me."

He gave me another whack that had me against the wall. "Maybe you need to be taught a lesson not to mess with Kenny."

"Maybe you need to be taught a lesson not to jump bail." I had my hand in my bag, and I couldn't find the lousy defense spray, so I hauled out a can of extra-hold hair spray and let him have it square in the face.

"Yeow," Kenny yelped, jumping back, hands to his face. "You bitch, I'll get you for this. I'll . . ." He took his hands away. "Hey, wait a minute. What is this shit?"

Terry's smile widened. "You've been hair-sprayed, Kenny."

The little girl and an older woman hustled down the hall.

"What's going on?" the woman wanted to know.

An old man appeared. Vito Grizolli, looking like he'd walked off the set of The Godfather.

"Kenny's been hair-sprayed," Terry told everyone. "He put up a pretty good fight, but he just didn't have the muscle to stand up to extra hold."

The mother turned on me. "You did this to my boy?"

I tried not to sigh, but one escaped anyway. Some days it doesn't pay to get out of bed. "I'm a bond enforcement officer," I told her. "I work for Vincent Plum. Your son failed to appear in court, and now I need to bring him in to reschedule and have his case reviewed."