off. Bob had standards. Morelli didn't rush to greet me. He didn't bounce around or slobber or exude unconditional love. Morelli was slouched on the couch, watching the Three Stooges on television. 'So,' he said when I came into the room.
'So,' I answered.
'What's with the truck?'
'What truck?'
He cut his eyes to me.
'Oh,' I said. That truck. That's Rangers truck. He's letting me borrow it until I get the Buick back.'
'Has the truck got a VIN?'
'Of course it has a VIN.'
Is the VIN legitimate would have been a better question. Ranger has a seemingly inexhaustible supply of new black cars and trucks. The origin of these vehicles is unknown. The vehicle identification tag is almost always in place, but it seems possible the Bat Cave might contain a metal shop. Not that Ranger or any of his men would actually steal a car, but maybe they wouldn't ask too many questions upon delivery.
'You could have borrowed my SUV,' Morelli said.
'You didn't offer it to me.'
'Because I wanted you to stay in the house today. One day,' Morelli said. 'Was that too much to ask?'
'I stayed in the house for most of the day.'
'Most of the day isn't all of the day.'
'What about tomorrow?'
'It's going to be ugly,' Morelli said. 'You're going to be on a rant about women's equality and personal freedom. And I'm going to be waving my arms and yelling, because I'm an Italian cop, and that's what we do when women are irrational.'
'It's not about women's equality and personal freedom. This isn't political. It's personal. I want you to support my career choice.'
'You don't have a career,' Morelli said. 'You have a suicide mission. Most women try to avoid murderers and rapists. I have a girlfriend who goes out trying to find them. And if murderers and rapists weren't bad enough, now you've pissed off a gang.'
These gang people should get a grip. The least little thing and they're all bent out of shape. What's the deal with them?'
'That's how they have fun,' Morelli said.
'Maybe the police should try to get them involved in a hobby, like woodworking, or something.'
'Yeah, maybe we could get it to replace all the drug dealing and killings they're doing now.'
'Are they really that bad?'
'Yes. They're really that bad.'
Morelli shut the television off and came over to me. 'What the hell happened to you?' he said, looking more closely at my jeans.
'I had to run Roger Banker down.'
'What's this in your hair?'
'I'm hoping it's dog drool.'
'I don't get it,' Morelli said. 'Other women are happy to stay home. My sister stays home. My brothers' wives stay home. My mother stays home. My grandmother stays home.'
'Your grandmother is insane.'
'You're right. My grandmother doesn't count.'
'I'm sure there'll be a time in my life when I want to stay home. This isn't it,' I said.
'So I'm ahead of my time?'
I smiled at him and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Yeah.'
He pulled me close to him. 'You don't expect me to wait, do you?'
'Yep.'
'I'm not good at waiting.'
'Deal with it,' I said, pushing away.
Morelli narrowed his eyes. 'Deal with it? Excuse me?'
Okay, maybe I said it a little more authoritatively than I'd intended. But my day hadn't been all that great, plus I was feeling just a tad defensive over the foreign substance in my hair that might have been drool, but then maybe not. I could have ended the conversation there, but I didn't think it was smart to back down on the issue. And truth is, I was working my way out of Morelli's house. 'I'm not staying home. End of discussion.'
'The hell this is the end,' Morelli said.
'Oh yeah? Well end this.' And I gave him the finger and headed for the stairs.
'Very adult,' Morelli said. 'Nice to know you've thought this through and have it reduced to a hand gesture.'
'I've thought it through, and I have a plan. I'm leaving.'
Morelli followed me upstairs. 'Leaving? That's a plan?'
'It's a temporary plan.' I took the laundry basket from the closet and started putting clothes in it.
'I have a plan, too,' Morelli said. 'It's called you're staying.'
'We'll do your plan next time.' I emptied my lingerie drawer into the basket.
'What's this?' Morelli said, picking out lavender string bikini underpants. 'I like these. You want to fool around?'
'No!' Actually, I sort of did, but it didn't seem in keeping with the current plan.
I gathered up some things from the bathroom, added them to the basket, and carted the basket downstairs. Then I lugged the hamster cage from the kitchen and put it on top of the clothes in the basket.
'You're serious about this,' Morelli said.
'I'm not going to start every day off with an argument about hiding in the house.'
'You don't have to hide in the house forever. Just lower your visibility for a few days. And it would be nice if you'd stop looking for trouble.'
I hefted the laundry basket and pushed past him to the door. 'On the surface that sounds reasonable, but the reality of it is that I give up my job and hide.'
I was telling the truth. I didn't want to start every day off with an argument. But, I also didn't want to wake up to more graffiti on
Joe's house. I didn't want a firebomb thrown through his front window. I didn't want a Slayer breaking in when I was alone and in the shower. I needed a place to stay that was unknown to the Slayers. Not Morelli's house. Not my parents' house. Not my apartment. I wouldn't feel completely safe in any of those places. And I didn't want to put anyone in danger. Maybe I was making a big thing out of nothing… but then, maybe not.
So, here I was idling at the corner of Slater and Chambers with a pleasant, perfectly designed, color- coordinated Martha Stewart laundry basket on the seat beside me, filled with all the clean clothes I could find, a hamster cage wedged into the seat behind me… and no place to go.
I'd told Morelli I was going home to my parents' house, but it had been a fib. The truth was, I walked out without totally thinking the whole thing through.
My best friend Mary Lou was married and had a pack of kids. No room there. Lula lived in a closet. No room there either. The sun was setting, and I was feeling panicky. I could sleep in Rangers truck, but it didn't have a bathroom. I'd have to go to the Mobil station on the corner to use the toilet. And what about a shower? The Mobil station didn't have a shower. How was I going to get the drool out of my hair? And Rex? This was so pathetic, I thought. My hamster was homeless.
A flashy black Lexus SUV made its way up Slater. I slid low in the seat and held my breath as the Lexus rolled forward. Hard to see through the SUV's tinted windows. Could be anyone driving, I told myself. Could be a perfectly nice family in the Lexus. But in my gut I worried that they were Slayers.
The Lexus stopped in front of Morelli's house. The bass from the SUV stereo thumped down the street and beat against my windshield. After a long moment the SUV moved off.
Looking for me, I thought. And then I burst into tears. I was in emotion overload, feeling sorry for myself. A bunch of gang guys were out to get me. The police had Big Blue. And I'd moved out on Morelli… for the umpteenth
