Smokin' Seventeen

“Is this the pimple spell?”

I dropped my bag on the coffee table. “No. The vordo spell.”

“Its hard to keep track of all the spells.” He pulled me close and kissed me. “Are you still drinking cranberry juice?”

“No.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had all day.” He kissed me just below my ear, my neck, my shoulder. “I missed you last night.”

“I rode by but you weren’t home.”

“It was late when I left Anthony. It took forever to get him settled in his new house.” He kissed me again. “I don’t suppose you’d want to go upstairs and take a nap?”

“A nap?”

Morelli grinned. “I was trying to be subtle.”

I had my arms around him, and he felt good against me, but I wasn’t in the mood for a nap. Usually by the time Morelli worked his way down to my shoulder I was getting warm. Today I felt nothing. Too many other things on my mind, I thought.

“Maybe we can nap later. I have things to do this afternoon,” I said.

“Like what?”

“I took Grandma to Lou Dugan’s viewing last night, and Nick Alpha was there. He’s really crazy. He said he was going to even the score for Jimmy. He said he was going to kill me, and that it wouldn’t be the first time he killed someone, but it was going to be the most enjoyable.”

I felt the muscles tense in Morelli’s back, and his eyes changed from soft and sexy to hard cop eyes. “He actually said that to you?”

“Yes. So I’m going after him. If I can prove he killed Lou Dugan and his poker partners, I can get him taken off the street.”

“It’s not a given that he’s the killer.”

“No, but it’s worth investigating.”

“I agree. I’m not going to order you to stay away from Nick Alpha because giving you orders never works, but I would feel much more comfortable if you let me do the investigating.”

“Sure,” I said. “Investigate to your heart’s content.”

Morelli narrowed his eyes. “That was too easy.”

I shrugged. “I have better things to do.”

“Such as?”

“Catch bad guys who have gone FTA. And shop for sexy lingerie.”

“You’re playing me,” Morelli said. “If you’re going to put yourself in danger at least don’t do it alone.”

• • •

I left Morelli and stopped at the coffee shop to read through Connie’s text message one more time. I bought a Frappuccino and a giant chocolate chip cookie and took them to a bistro table toward the front. Connie had texted me an address for Alpha. According to her source he owned a dry-cleaning business on the first block of Stark, and he was living above it. She wasn’t able to get a personal phone or cell phone.

I was familiar with the first block of Stark. Most buildings were three stories and built shortly after WWII. They were redbrick turned dark with age and grime. Ground-floor units were commercial. Bars, groceries, a pawnshop, a tattoo parlor, hair salon, a storefront church. This first block was relatively stable and reasonably safe, unless Nick Alpha was out and about and trying to kill me.

I’d never had reason to notice the dry cleaner. I vaguely remembered that it was in the middle of the block. I knew it backed up to a service alley, as did almost all businesses on Stark. I wanted to snoop around the building and assess the possibility of getting into Alpha’s apartment to look for a Frankenstein mask. I realize this was a little illegal, but I didn’t see where I had a choice. I couldn’t sit around and wait for Alpha to decide it was time to strangle me.

I finished my cookie and my Frappuccino and was about to leave when Mooner walked in.

“Yo, dudette,” Mooner said to me.

“Is the bus done?”

“Negative. This is like a process. I mean you can’t rush an artiste like Uncle Jimmy.” He waved at the girl behind the counter. “Make me something mellow,” he said to her. “I’m feeling pumpkin.”

I hung my bag on my shoulder and gathered my trash. “Gotta go.”

“That’s cool. Where are we going?”

“I have to check some things out.”

“Excellent. Checking things out is like more than orange. It’s like one of my specialties.”

“Pumpkin up,” the counter girl shouted.

Here’s the thing about Mooner. Half the time I didn’t know what the heck he was saying, but I always knew what he was talking about. He paid for his pumpkin drink and ambled back to me, looking like he was ready to go check things out. Don’t get me wrong. I like Mooner. He’s a little eccentric, but he’s a good guy. Problem is he’s like a puppy that’s only ninety percent housebroken. There’s always the potential for piddle on the carpet. Figuratively