'It looks pretty bad.'
She blinked. 'I lost a finger. Well, I didn't actually lose it. It was on the kitchen counter. I took it to the hospital and got it sewed back on.'
I had an instant vision of her finger lying on the kitchen counter. Little black dots danced in front of my eyes, and I felt sweat pop out on my upper lip. 'I'm sorry!'
'It was an accident,' she said. 'An accident.'
'Which finger was it?'
'The middle finger.'
'Oh man, that's my favorite finger.'
'Listen,' she said. 'I gotta go.'
'Wait! Just one minute more. I really need to know about Maxine.'
'There's nothing to know. She's gone. There's nothing more I can tell you.'
* * * * *
I SAT in my car and took a deep breath. From now on, I was going to be more careful in the kitchen. No more fishing around the garbage disposal looking for bottle caps. No more flamboyant whacking away at salad greens.
It was too late to hit any more people on the list, so I headed home. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, and the air getting sucked through the sunroof was pleasant. I cruised across town, parked behind my apartment building and swung through the rear entrance.
Rex stopped running on his wheel when I walked into the living room. He looked at me, whiskers twitching.
'Don't ask,' I said. 'You don't want to know.' Rex was squeamish about things like chopped-off fingers.
My mother had given me some chicken and some pie to take home. I broke off a chunk of the pie and gave it to Rex. He shoved the crust into his cheek pouch, and his shiny black eyes almost popped out of his head.
Probably I'd looked like that earlier today when Morelli had asked for a doughnut.
* * * * *
I ALWAYS KNOW it's Sunday because I wake up feeling apologetic. That's one of the cool things about being a Catholic . . . it's a multifaceted experience. If you lose the faith, chances are you'll keep the guilt, so it isn't as if you've been skunked altogether. I rolled my head and looked at the digital readout on my clock. Eight. Still time to make late mass. I really should go. My eyes grew heavy at the thought.
Next time I opened my eyes it was eleven. Gosh. Too late to go to church. I heaved myself out of bed and padded to the bathroom, telling myself it was okay because God was willing to forgive little things like skimpy church attendance. Over the years I'd evolved my religion and constructed the Benevolent God. The Benevolent God also didn't care about such trifles as cussing and fibbing. The Benevolent God looked into a person's heart and knew if she'd been naughty or nice in the grand scheme of things. In my world, God and Santa Claus did not micromanage lives. Of course, that meant you couldn't count on them to help you lose weight, either.
I stepped out of the shower and shook my head by way of styling my hair. I dressed in my usual uniform of spandex shorts and halter-style sports bra and topped it off with a Rangers hockey jersey. I took another look at my hair and decided it needed some help, so I did the gel, blow-dry, hair spray routine. When I was done I was several inches taller. I stood in front of the mirror and did the Wonder Woman thing, feet spread, fists on hips. 'Eat dirt, scumbag,' I said to the mirror. Then I did the Scarlett thing, hand to my heart, coy smile. 'Rhett, you handsome devil, how you do go on.'
Neither of those felt exactly right for the day, so I took myself into the kitchen to see if I could find my identity in the refrigerator. I was plowing through a Sara Lee frozen cheesecake when the phone rang.
'Hey,' Eddie Kuntz said.
'Hey,' I answered.
'I got the letter from Maxine. I thought you might want to take a look.'
* * * * *
I CRUISED over to Muffet Street and found Eddie Kuntz standing on his minuscule front lawn, hands dangling loose at his sides, staring at his front window. The window was smash city. Big hole square in the middle. Lots of fracture lines.
I slammed the door when I got out of the car, but Kuntz didn't turn at the sound, nor at my approach. We stood there for a moment, side by side, studying the window disaster.
'Nice job,' I said.
He nodded. 'Square in the middle. Maxine was on the softball team in high school.'
'She do this last night?'
Another nod. 'I was going to bed. I turned the light off and CRASH . . . a brick came sailing through my front window.'
'Airmail,' I said.
'Yeah, goddamn airmail. My aunt is apeshit. She's my landlady. Her and Uncle Leo live in the other half of this piece of crap. The only reason she isn't out here wringing her hands is on account of she's at church.'
'I didn't realize you were renting.'
'What, you think I'd pick out these paint colors? Do I look like one of those poofie guys?'
