'To," Lula said to her. "I'm Lula, and this here's the world-famous Stephanie Plum, and we're looking for Gary Martin."

"He's in surgery," the woman said. "Office hours start at one o'clock."

"Maybe he could squeeze us in between surgeries," Lula said. "It's a personal matter."

"Dr. Martin doesn't like to be disturbed when he's in surgery."

"See, here's the thing," Lula said. "I got a doughnut with my name on it out in the car, and I don't want to sit around until one o'clock. I mean, it's not like of Gary's doing open heart. He's cutting the balls off a cat, right?"

I pointed stiff-armed to the door. "Out," I said to Lula.

"Just trying to communicate with Miss Stick-up-her-ass," Lula said.

"Out!"

I waited until Lula left, and then I turned to the receptionist. "Maybe I could leave a note for Dr. Martin."

There was a long awkward pause, and I assumed the receptionist was contemplating hitting the police button on the security system… or at the very least unleashing Dobermans from a holding pen. This was a vet office. They had dogs, right?

Finally, the woman exhaled and slid a pad and pen my way. "I guess that would be okay," she said.

I was halfway through the note when Gary Martin emerged from a back room and approached the receptionist.

"Any emergency calls?" he asked her. "Any, um, personal calls?"

She shook her head, no.

"Are you sure? Not a single personal call?"

Gary Martin looked like a big, forty-year-old cherub. He was about five foot six with chubby cheeks and a soft middle. He was wearing a light blue lab coat that was unbuttoned over tan slacks and a yellow button-down shirt. He was entirely adorable in a dorky kind of way. And he was clearly disappointed that no one had called.

I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. "Annie Hart is temporarily indisposed," I said. "I'm her replacement."