Two for the dough

She turned to Morelli. 'We had chocolate pudding for dessert tonight, and there's still some left. We always make a double batch.'

'Been a long time since I've had homemade chocolate pudding,' Morelli said. Grandma snapped to attention. 'Is that so? Well, you're welcome to join us. We've got plenty.'

A small strangled sound escaped from the back of my throat, and I glared no, no, no at Morelli.

Morelli gave me one of those ultranaive what? looks. 'Chocolate pudding sounds great,' he said. 'I'd love some chocolate pudding.'

'Then it's settled,' Grandma announced. 'You know where we live?' Morelli assured us he could find the house with his eyes closed, but just to make sure we'd be safe in the night, he'd follow us home.

'Don't that beat all,' Grandma said when we were alone in the car. 'Imagine him worrying about our safety. And have you ever met a more polite young man? He's a real looker too. And he's a cop. I bet he has a gun under that jacket.'

He was going to need a gun when my mother saw him standing on her doorstep. My mother would look out the storm door, and she wouldn't see Joe Morelli, a man in search of pudding. She wouldn't see Joe Morelli who had graduated from high school and joined the navy. She wouldn't see Morelli the cop. My mother would see Joe Morelli the fastfingered, horny little eight-year-old who had taken me to his father's garage to play choochoo when I was six.

'This here's a good opportunity for you,' Grandma said as we pulled up to the curb. 'You could use a man.'

'Not this one.'

'What's wrong with this one?'

'He's not my type.'

'You've got no taste when it comes to men,' Grandma said. 'Your ex-husband is a cow's tail. We all knew he was a cow's tail when you married him, but you wouldn't listen.' Morelli pulled up behind me and got out of his truck. My mother opened the storm door and even from a distance I could see the stern set to her mouth and a stiffening of her spine.

'We all came back for pudding,' Grandma said to my mother when we reached the porch.

'We brought Officer Morelli with us on account of he hasn't had any homemade pudding in an awful long time.'

My mother's lips pinched tight.

'I hope I'm not intruding,' Morelli said. 'I know you weren't expecting company.' This is the opening statement that will get you into any burg house. No housewife worth her salt will ever admit to having her house not up to company twenty-four hours a day. Jack the Ripper would have easy access if he used this line.

My mother gave a curt nod and grudgingly stepped aside while the three of us slid past. For fear of mayhem, my father had never been informed of the choo-choo incident. This meant he regarded Morelli with no more and no less contempt and apprehension than any of the other potential suitors my mother and grandmother dragged in off the street. He gave Joe a cursory inspection, engaged in the minimum necessary small talk and returned his attention to the TV, studiously ignoring my grandmother as she passed out pudding.

'They had a closed casket all right for Moogey Bues,' my grandmother said to my mother.

'I got to see him anyway on account of the accident.'

My mother's eyes opened wide in alarm. 'Accident?'

I shrugged out of my jacket. 'Grandma caught her sleeve on the lid, and the lid accidentally flew open.'

My mother raised her arms in appalled supplication. 'All day I've had people calling and telling me about the gladioli. Now tomorrow I'l have to hear about the lid.'

'He didn't look so hot,' Grandma Mazur said. 'I told Spiro that he did a good job, but it was pretty much a fib.'

Morelli was wearing a blazer over a black knit shirt. He took a seat, and his jacket swung wide, exposing the gun at his hip.

'Nice piece!' Grandma said. 'What is it? Is that a forty-five?'