I took a shower and got dressed and went to the kitchen in search of breakfast. Morelli didn't stock Pop-Tarts, so I settled on a peanut butter sandwich. I was halfway through the sandwich when I remembered the chauffeuring job. I'd never gotten around to reading the notecard, and I had no idea when I was supposed to get the sheik. I shuffled through the mess in my shoulder bag and found the card. It said Tank would drop the limo off at nine. I was to pick the sheik up at ten and drive him to NewarkAirport. It was almost eight, so I finished my sandwich, stuffed yesterday's clothes into the tote, and called Mary Lou to bum a ride.
'Boy, you really get around,' Mary Lou said. 'When I dropped you off you were with Ranger. You must have had a busy night.'
'You don't know the half of it.' I explained to her about the kiss, and Ramirez, and Shempsky, and finally about Morelli.
'I can't imagine being too tired to do it with Morelli,' Mary Lou said. 'Of course, I've never been attacked by a homicidal rapist, held at gunpoint by a screwy banker, and had a guy killed outside my bedroom window.'
Mrs. Bestler was waiting by the elevator when I walked into the lobby. 'Going up?' she asked. 'Second floor. . . belts, handbags, body bags.'
'I'm taking the stairs,' I told her. 'I need the exercise.'
I opened my apartment door and surprised a young cop who was feeding Rex Cheerios.
'He looked hungry,' the cop said. 'I hope you don't mind.'
'Not at all. Feel free to join him for breakfast. Just poke around in the fridge until you find something you like.'
The cop smiled. 'Thanks. There's a guy here fixing your window. Morelli arranged it. I'm supposed to leave as soon as he's done.'
'Sounds good.'
I went into the bedroom and collected my chauffeur uniform of black suit and stockings and heels. I changed in the bathroom, added some lipstick and a swipe of mascara, and sprayed my hair. When I came out, the window man was gone, and my window looked sparkly clean. The cop was gone, too.
I grabbed my shoulder bag, said good-bye to Rex, and hustled down to the parking lot.
Tank was waiting for me when I swung through the back door at nine o'clock sharp. He had a map and directions.
'Should take you about a half hour from here,' Tank said.
'Does he know I'm driving him?'
Tank's face creased in a wide grin. 'We thought it would be a nice surprise.'
I took the keys to the Town Car and slid in behind the wheel.
'You're carrying, right?' Tank asked.
'Right.'
'And you're okay after last night?'
'How do you know about last night?'
'It's in the paper.'
Terrific.
I gave Tank a little finger wave and drove away. I got to Hamilton and turned right. I drove several blocks and turned into the Burg. I had no intention of destroying another black car. I parked at my parents' house and went inside to get the garage keys.
'You made the paper again,' Grandma said. 'And the phone's been ringing off the hook. Your mother's in the kitchen, ironing.'
My mother always irons during times of disaster. Some people drink, some take drugs. My mother irons.
'How's Dad?' I asked.
'He's out at the store.'
'No problems left over from the stun gun?'
'Well, he isn't the happiest person I ever saw, but aside from that he's doing okay. Looks like you got another car.'
'It's a loaner. I have a job as a chauffeur. I'm going to leave the black car here and take the Buick. I feel safer in the Buick.'
My mother came out of the kitchen. 'What's this about being a chauffeur?'
'It's nothing,' I said. 'I'm driving a man to the airport.'
'Good,' my mother said. 'Take your grandmother.'
'I can't do that!'
My mother pulled me into the kitchen and lowered her voice. 'I don't care if you're driving the Pope, your grandmother is going with you. If she says the wrong thing to your father when he gets home, he'll go after her with a steak knife. So unless you want more bloodshed on your hands, you will fulfill your obligation as a granddaughter and get your grandmother out of this house for a few hours until things calm down. This is all your fault anyway.' My mother snapped a shirt onto the ironing board and snatched at the iron. 'And what kind of a daughter has shootouts on her fire escape? The phone's been ringing all morning. What am I supposed to say to people? How can I explain these things?'
