'Sure.' I wolfed down the last of the cake and scraped back in my chair. 'I can take you now, but then I need to get back to work.'
'I’ll just go upstairs to get my purse,' Grandma said.
I leaned toward her and lowered my voice. 'No gun.'
Grandma Mazur carried a.45 long barrel named Elsie. It wasn't registered, and she didn’t have a permit to carry concealed. Grandma thought being old gave her license to pack. She called it the equalizer. My mother kept taking the gun away, and the gun kept mysteriously returning.
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Grandma said.
'I've got enough problems with the police right now. I can't afford to get pulled over for a broken taillight and have them discover you're armed and dangerous.'
'I never go anywhere without Elsie,' Grandma said.
'What's all the whispering about?' my mother wanted to know.
'We were trying to decide if I needed to put on some fresh lipstick,' Grandma said.
I looked over at her. 'You don't need lipstick.'
'A woman always needs lipstick.'
'Your lipstick is fine.'
'You're getting to be just like your mother,' Grandma said.
There was a time when that statement would have freaked me out, but now I was thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have some of my mother's qualities. She was a stabilizing influence on the family. She was the representative of accepted social behavior. She was the guardian of our health and security. She was the bran muffin that allowed us to be jelly doughnuts.
Grandma and I were at the front door, and I remembered the hole in the windshield. 'Duct tape,' I called to my mother. 'Where would I find it, the garage or the cellar?'
My mother came with a roll. 'I keep some in the kitchen. Are you fixing something?'
'I have a hole in my back window.'
Grandma Mazur squinted at the Vic. 'Looks like a bullet hole.'
'Dear God,' my mother said. 'It's not a bullet hole, is it?'
'No,' I told her. 'Absolutely not.'
Grandma Mazur buttoned herself into her long royal blue wool coat. She buckled a little under the weight but managed to right herself and get to the car.
'Isn't this the kind of car the cops use?' she asked.
'Yes.'
'Does it have one of them flashing lights?'
'No.'
'Bummer,' Grandma said.
THREE
I followed Grandma up and down personal products to Metamucil, hemorrhoid remedies, hair spray, Harlequin romances, greeting cards. She got her denture glue and moved to lipsticks.
A gap-toothed, redheaded kid rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of us.
'Hi!' he yelled.
He was followed by Cynthia Hawser. Cynthia and I had been classmates. She was married now to a gap- toothed, redheaded guy who'd fathered three gap-toothed, redheaded kids. They lived a block over from Morelli in a little duplex that had more toys than grass in the front yard.
'This is Jeremy,' Cynthia said to Grandma and me.
Jeremy had trouble written all over him. Jeremy just about vibrated with energy.
'What a cute little boy,' Grandma said. 'I bet you're real smart.'
'I'm too smart for my britches,' Jeremy said. 'That's what most people tell me.'
An old man shuffled up and looked us over. He was wearing a wavy jet-black toupee that sat slightly askew on his bald dome. He had bushy, out-of-control eyebrows, a lot of ear hair, and even more slack skin than Grandma. I thought he looked to be on the far side of eighty.
'What's going on here?' he asked.
'This is Uncle Elmer,' Cynthia said. 'There was a fire in his apartment at assisted living so he came to live with us.'
'It wasn't my fault,' Uncle Elmer said.
'You were smoking in bed,' Jeremy said. 'It's lucky you didn’t cream yourself.'
Cynthia grimaced. 'You mean cremate.'
Uncle Elmer grinned at Grandma. 'Who's this sexy young thing?'
'Aren't you the one,' Grandma said to Elmer.
Elmer winked at her. 'The boys at the home would love you. You look hot.'
'It’s the coat,' Grandma said. 'It's wool.'
Elmer fingered the coat. 'Looks like good quality. I was in retail, you know. I can tell quality.'
'I've had it for a while,' Grandma said. 'I was taller when I first bought it. I've shrunk up some.'
Elmer gave his head a small shake, and the toupee slid over one ear. He reached up and righted it. 'The golden years are a bitch,' Elmer said.
'You don't look like you shrunk much,' Grandma said. 'You're a pretty big guy.'
'Well, some of me’s shrunk and some of me's swollen up,' Elmer said. 'When I was young, I got a lot of tattoos, and now they don't look so good. One time, I got drunk and got Eisenhower tattooed on my balls, but now he looks like Orville Redenbacher.'
'He makes good popcorn,' Grandma said.
'You bet. And don't worry, I still got it where it counts.'
'Where's that?' Grandma asked.
'In the sack. Hangs a little lower than it used to, but the equipment still works, if you know what I mean.'
'Uncle Elmer poops in a bag,' Jeremy said.
'It's temporary,' Elmer said. 'Just 'til the bypass heals up. They put some pig intestine in me on an experimental basis.'
'Gee,' I said, 'look at the time. We have to be running along now.'
'Yeah, I can't be late for dinner tonight,' Grandma said. 'I want to make the early viewing at the funeral parlor. Milton Buzick is laid out, and I hear you wouldn't even recognize him.'
'You got a good funeral parlor here?' Elmer asked Grandma.
'I go to the one on Hamilton Avenue. It's run by two real nice young men, and they serve homemade cookies.'
'I wouldn't mind some homemade cookies,' Elmer said. 'I could meet you there tonight. I'm looking for a lady friend, you know. Do you put out?'
Cynthia smacked Uncle Elmer on the head. 'Behave yourself'
'I haven't got time,' Elmer said, readjusting his hair. 'I gotta know these things.'
'Now what?' I asked Grandma Mazur when we'd settled ourselves in the car.
'I gotta go home, so I can get ready for tonight. That Elmer is a frisky one. He'll get snapped up fast. Myra Witkowski would snap him up in an instant if I let her.'
'Remember, I'm looking for Simon Diggery. Check out Milton's jewelry for me, and let me know if he's going in the ground with anything pricey enough to get Diggery out to the cemetery on a cold night.'
Morelli and Bob strolled in a little after six. Morelli shucked his boots and jacket in the foyer and dumped a grocery bag and a six-pack onto the kitchen counter. He grabbed me, and kissed me, and cracked open a beer from the six pack.
'I'm starving,' he said. 'I didn't have time for lunch.'
I pulled a bunch of chili dogs and a bucket of cheese Fries out of the grocery bag. I put two dogs and some fries
