'No.'
'Then we're going to Sal's.'
'Okay, I'll drive you to Sal's, but I'm not going in.'
'Sure, you're going in.'
'But my dog…'
'The dog can come, too. I'll buy him a beer and a sandwich.'
Sal's was small and dark. The bar stretched the length of the room. Two old men sat at the end of the bar, silently drinking, watching the television. Three empty tables were clustered to the right of the door. Ramos sat at one of the tables.
Without asking, the bartender brought Ramos a bottle of ouzo and two shot glasses. Nothing was said. Ramos drank a shot; then he lit up and dragged the smoke deep into his lungs. 'Ahh,' he said on the exhale.
Sometimes I envy people who smoke. They always look so happy when they suck in that first lungful of tar. I can't think of many things that make me that happy. Maybe birthday cake.
Ramos poured himself a second shot and tipped the bottle in my direction.
'No thanks,' I said. 'I'm driving.'
He shook his head. 'Sissy country.' He knocked the second shot back. 'Don't get me wrong. I like some things okay. I like big American cars. And I like American football. And I like American women with big tits.'
Oh, boy.
'Do you flag people down a lot?' I asked him.
'Every chance I get.'
'Don't you think that's dangerous? Suppose you get picked up by a nut?'
He pulled a.22 out of his pocket. 'I'd shoot him.' He laid the gun on the table, closed his eyes, and sucked in more smoke. 'You live around here?'
'No. I just come down once in a while to walk my dog. He likes to walk on the beach.'
'What's with the Band-Aid on your chin?'
'I cut myself shaving.'
He dropped a twenty on the table and stood. 'Cut yourself shaving. I like that. You're okay. You can take me home now.'
I dropped him off a block from his house.
'Come back tomorrow,' he said. 'Same time. Maybe I'll hire you on as my personal chauffeur.'
GRANDMA WAS SETTING the dinner table when Bob and I got home. The Mooner was slouched on the couch, watching TV.
'Hey,' he said, 'how's it going?'
'Can't complain,' I said. 'How's it going with you?'
'I don't know, dude. It's just hard to believe there's no more Dealer. I thought the Dealer'd be around forever. I mean, he was doing a service. He was the Dealer.' He shook his head. 'It rocks my world, dude.'
'He needs to have another brewski and chill some more,' Grandma said. 'And then we'll all have a nice dinner. I always like when there's company for dinner. Especially when it's a man.'
I wasn't sure Mooner counted as a man. Mooner was sort of like Peter Pan on pot. Mooner spent a lot of time in never-never land.
Bob ambled out of the kitchen over to Mooner and gave his crotch a big sniff.
'Hey dude,' Mooner said, 'not on the first date, man.'
'I bought myself a car today,' Grandma said. 'And the Mooner drove it over here for me.'
I felt my mouth drop open. 'But you already have a car. You have Uncle Sandor's Buick.'
'That's true. And don't get me wrong, I think it's a pip of a car. I just decided it didn't fit my new image. I thought I should get something sportier. It was the darnedest thing how it happened. Louise came over to take me driving and she said she heard about how the Dealer was going out of business. And so, of course, we had to hurry over to stock up on Metamucil. And then while we were there I bought a car.'
'You bought a car from Dougie?'
'You bet. And it's a beaut.'
I cut Mooner the death look, but it was lost on him. Mooner's emotional range didn't go that far beyond mellow.
'Wait'll you see your granny's car,' Mooner said. 'It's an excellent car.'
'It's a babe car,' Grandma said. 'I look just like Christie Brinkley in it.'
David Brinkley, I could believe. Christie was a stretch. But hey, if it made Grandma happy then it was fine by me. 'What kind of car is it?'
'It's a 'vette,' Grandma said. 'And it's red.'
8
SO MY GRANDMOTHER has a red Corvette, and I have a blue '53 Buick and a big zit on my chin. Hell, it could be worse, I told myself. The zit could be on my nose.
'Besides,' Grandma said, 'I know how you like the Buick. I didn't want to take the Buick away from you.'
I nodded and tried to smile. 'Excuse me,' I said. 'I'm going to wash my hands for dinner.'
I calmly walked to the bathroom, closed and locked the door, looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, and sniffled. A tear leaked out of my left eye. Get a grip, I told myself. It's just a pimple. It'll go away. Yes, but what about the Buick? I asked. The Buick was worrisome. The Buick showed no signs of going away. Another tear leaked out. You're too emotional, I said to the person in the mirror. You're making a big deal over nothing. Probably this is just a temporary hormone imbalance resulting from lack of sleep.
I splashed some water on my face and blew my nose. At least I could sleep easier tonight knowing I had an alarm on the door. I didn't so much mind Ranger visiting at two in the morning… it was that I hated him sneaking up on me. What if I was drooling in my sleep, and he was sitting there watching me? What if he was sitting there staring at my pimple?
MOONER LEFT AFTER dinner and Grandma went to bed early after showing me her new car.
Morelli called at five after nine. 'Sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner,' he said. 'It's been one of those days. How about you?'
'I have a pimple.'
'I can't compete with that.'
'Do you know a woman named Cynthia Lotte? Rumor has it she was Homer Ramos's girlfriend.'
'From what I know about Homer, he changed girlfriends like other men change socks.'
'Have you ever met his father?'
'I've spoken to him a couple times.'
'And your opinion?'
'Typical good of boy Greek gun-runner. Haven't seen him lately.' There was a pause. 'Grandma Mazur still with you?'
'Yep.'
Morelli did a big sigh.
'My mom wants to know if you'd like to come to dinner tomorrow. She's making a pork roast.'
'Sure,' Morelli said. 'You're going to be there, right?'
'Me and Grandma and Bob.'
'Oh boy,' Morelli said.
I hung up, took Bob for a walk around the block, gave Rex a grape, and then watched television for a while. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the hockey game and woke up in time to catch the last half of a show on serial killers and forensics. When the show was over I triple-checked the locks on the front door and hung the motion detector from the doorknob. If someone opened the door, the alarm would go off. I sure hoped that didn't
