'I don't know. Some guy got whacked in the garage.'
Morelli went into the kitchen and dialed dispatch. 'I have an anonymous tip here,' he said. 'Why don't you send someone over to Hannibal Ramos's town house on Fenwood and take a look in the garage. The back door should be open.' Morelli hung the phone up and turned to me. 'Okay, that's taken care of,' he said. 'Let's go upstairs.'
'Sex, sex, sex,' I said. 'That's all you ever think about.' Although, now that I was rested and had the dead guy off my chest, an orgasm didn't sound like such a bad idea.
Morelli backed me against the wall and leaned into me. 'I think about other things besides sex… just not lately.' He kissed me and put some tongue into it, and the orgasm was sounding better and better.
'Just a quick question about the dead guy,' I said. 'How long do you think it'll be before they find him?'
'If there's a car in the area, it'll only take five or ten minutes.'
Chances were pretty good they'd call Morelli when they took a gander at the guy in the garage. And on my best day, I need more than five minutes. But then probably it would take more than five minutes to get a car to the house, then for the cops to walk to the back and go through to the garage. So, if I didn't waste time taking all my clothes off, and we got right to it, I might be able to do the whole program.
'Why don't we do it here?' I said to Morelli, popping the top snap on his Levi's. 'Kitchens are so sexy.'
'Hold on,' he said. 'I'll pull the blinds.'
I kicked my shoes off and shucked my jeans. 'No time for that.'
Morelli gave me a long look. 'I'm not complaining, but I can't help feeling this is too good to be true.'
'You've heard of fast food? This is fast sex.'
I wrapped my hand around him, and he sucked in a quick breath. 'How fast do you want this to be?' he asked.
The phone rang.
Morelli had one hand on the phone and the other on my wrist. After a moment on the phone he cut his eyes to me. 'It's Costanza. He was in the neighborhood, so he took the call to check on the Ramos house. He says I've got to come over to see for myself. Something about a guy having a bad hair day, waiting for a bus. At least that's what it sounded like, over the laughter.'
I gave him a big shrug and a palms-up. Like, well, gosh, I don't know what he's talking about. Just looked like an ordinary of dead guy to me.
'Anything you want to tell me about this?' Morelli asked.
'Not without a lawyer present.'
We put our clothes back on, gathered our things, and went to the front door. Bob was still sitting on the couch, watching ESPN.
'It's kind of weird,' Morelli said, 'but I swear it's like he's following the game.'
'Maybe we should just let him keep watching.'
Morelli locked the door behind us. 'Listen, cupcake, you tell anybody I let that dog watch ESPN, and I'll get even.' His eyes drifted to my car, and then to the car parked behind me. 'Is that Joyce?'
'She's following me.'
'Want me to give her a ticket for something?'
I gave Morelli a fast kiss and drove off to the food store with Joyce close on my bumper. I didn't have a lot of money and my Visa was maxed, so I just got the essentials: peanut butter, potato chips, bread, beer, Oreos, milk, and two scratch-off lottery tickets.
Next stop was Home Depot, where I got a bolt for the front door to replace the broken security chain. The plan was to trade a beer for the bolt-installing expertise of my building super and good buddy Dillan Rudick.
After Home Depot I headed back to my apartment. I parked in the lot, locked Big Blue, and waved bye-bye to Joyce. Joyce inserted her thumbnail behind her two front teeth and gave me a genuine Italian gesture.
I stopped off at Dillan's basement apartment and explained my needs. Dillan grabbed his toolbox and we trooped upstairs. He was my age and lived in the bowels of the building, like a mole. He was a really cool guy, but he didn't do much, and as far as I know he didn't have a girlfriend… so, as you might expect, he drank a lot of beer. And since he didn't make a lot of money, free beer was always welcome.
I checked my answering machine while Dillan installed my bolt. Five calls for Grandma Mazur, none for me.
Dillan and I were relaxing in front of the television when Grandma came in.
'Boy, did I have a day,' Grandma said. 'I drove all over, and I almost got the stopping thing figured out.' She squinted at Dillan. 'And who's this nice young man?'
I introduced Dillan, and then since it was dinnertime I made all of us peanut-butter-and-potato-chip sandwiches. We ate them in front of the television and between Grandma and Dillan, somehow, the six-pack disappeared. Grandma and Dillan were feeling pretty happy, but I was starting to worry about Bob. I was imagining him alone in Morelli's house with nothing to eat but the cardboard pizza box. And the couch. And the bed. And the curtains and rug and Morelli's favorite chair. Then I imagined Morelli shooting Bob, and that wasn't a good picture.
I called Morelli but there was no answer. Rats. I should never have left Bob alone in the house. I had my keys in my hand and was putting my jacket on when Morelli arrived with Bob in tow.
'Going somewhere?' Morelli asked, taking in the keys and jacket.
'I was worried about Bob. I was going to drive over to your house and see if everything was okay.'
'I thought maybe you were leaving the country.'
I gave him a big fake smile.
Morelli unhooked Bob's leash, said hello to Grandma and Dillan, and dragged me into the kitchen. 'I need to talk to you.'
I heard a yelp from Dillan and figured Bob was getting acquainted.
'I'm armed,' I said to Morelli, 'so you better be careful. I have a gun in my purse.'
Morelli took the purse and threw it across the room.
Uh-oh.
'That was Junior Macaroni in Hannibal's garage,' Morelli said. 'He works for Stolle. Very weird to find him in Hannibal's garage. And it gets even weirder.'
I did a mental grimace.
'Macaroni was sitting in a lawn chair.'
'It was Lula's idea,' I said. 'Well, okay, so it was mine too, but he looked so uncomfortable lying on the cement floor.'
Morelli cracked a grin. 'I should arrest you for tampering with a crime scene, but he was such a vicious bastard, and he looked so fucking stupid.'
'How do you know I wasn't the killer?'
'Because you carry a thirty-eight and he was shot with a twenty-two. And more than that, you couldn't hit a barn at five paces. The only time you ever shot anyone, there was divine intervention.'
True.
'How many people know I sat him in the lawn chair?'
'Nobody knows, but about a hundred have guessed. No one will tell.' Morelli looked at his watch. 'I have to go. I have a meeting set up for tonight.'
'This isn't a meeting with Ranger, is it?'
'No.'
'Liar.'
Morelli pulled a pair of bracelets out of his jacket pocket, and before I realized what was happening I was cuffed to the refrigerator.
'Excuse me?' I said.
'You were going to follow me. I'll leave the key in your mailbox downstairs.'
Is this a relationship, or what?
'I'M READY TO go,' Grandma said.
She was dressed in her purple warm-up suit and white tennies. Her hair was neatly curled, and she was
