His hands felt nice against my skin, but I was starving and I didn't want to encourage any further celebrating until I got my pizza. He pulled me close and kissed his way up my neck. His lips moved to my ear and my temple and by the time he got to my mouth I was thinking the pizza could wait.
And then we heard it... the pizza delivery car coming down the street, stopping at the curb.
Morelli cut his eyes to the kid getting out of the car. 'Maybe if we ignore him he'll go away.'
The steaming extra-large, extra cheese, green peppers, pepperoni pizza smell oozed from the box the kid was carrying. The smell rushed over the porch and
into the house. Bob's toenails clattered on the polished wood hall floor as he took off from the kitchen and galloped for all he was worth at the kid.
Morelli stepped back from me and snagged Bob by the collar just as he was about to catapult himself off the porch.
'Ulk,' Bob said, stopping abruptly, tongue out, eyes bugged, feet off the ground.
'Minor setback with the celebration plan,' Morelli said.
'No rush,' I told him. 'We have all night.'
Morelli's eyes got soft and dark and dreamy. Sort of the way Bob's eyes got when he ate Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpets and then someone rubbed his belly.
'All right,' Morelli said. 'I like the way that sounds.'
Two minutes later, we were on the couch in Morelli's living room, watching the pregame show, eating pizza, and drinking beer.
'I heard you were working on the Barroni case,' I said to Morelli. 'Having any luck with it?'
Morelli took a second piece of pizza. 'I have a lot out on it. So far nothings come in.'
Michael Barroni mysteriously disappeared eight days ago. He was sixty-two years old and in good health when he vanished. He owned a nice house in the
heart of the Burg on Roebling and a hardware store on the corner of Rudd and
Liberty Street. He left behind a wife, two dogs, and three adult sons. One of the Barroni boys graduated with me, and one graduated two years earlier with Morelli.
There aren't a lot of secrets in the Burg and according to Burg gossip Michael Barroni didn't have a girlfriend, didn't play the numbers, and didn't have mob ties. His hardware store was running in the black. He didn't suffer from depression. He didn't do a lot of drinking, and he wasn't hooked on Levitra.
Barroni was last seen closing and locking the back door to the hardware store at the end of the day. He got into his car, drove away . . . and poof.
No more Michael Barroni.
'Did you ever find Barroni's car?' I asked Morelli.
'No. No car. No body. No sign of struggle. He was alone when Sol Rosen saw him lock up and take off. Sol said he was putting out trash from his diner and he saw Barroni leave. He said Barroni looked normal. Maybe distracted. Sol said Barroni waved but didn't say anything.'
'Do you think it's a random crime? Barroni was in the wrong place at the wrong time?'
'No. Barroni lived four blocks from his store. Every day he went straight home from work. Four blocks through the Burg. If something had gone down on
Barroni's usual route home someone would have heard or seen something. The
day Barroni disappeared he went someplace else. He didn't take his usual route home.'
'Maybe he just got tired of it all. Maybe he started driving west and didn't stop until he got to Flagstaff.'
Morelli fed his pizza crust to Bob. 'I'm going to tell you something that's just between us. We've had two other guys disappear on the exact same day as Barroni. They were both from Stark Street, and a missing person on Stark Street isn't big news, so no one's paid much attention. I ran across them when I checked Barroni's missing-person status.
'Both these guys owned their own businesses. They both locked up at the end of the day and were never seen again. One of the men was real stable. He had a wife and kids. He went to church. He ran a bar on Stark Street, but he was clean. The other guy, Benny Gorman, owned a garage. Probably a chump-change chop shop. He'd done time for armed robbery and grand theft auto. And two months ago he was charged with assault with a deadly weapon. Took a tire iron to a guy and almost killed him. He was supposed to go to trial last week but failed to appear. Ordinarily I'd say he skipped because of the charge but I'm not so sure on this one.'
'Did Vinnie bond Gorman out?'
'Yeah. I talked to Connie. She handed Gorman off to Ranger.'
'And you think the three guys are connected?'
A commercial came on and Morelli channel surfed through a bunch of stations.
'Don't know. I just have a feeling. Its too strong a coincidence.'
I gave Bob the last piece of pizza and snuggled closer to Morelli.
'I have feelings about other things, too,' Morelli said, sliding an arm around my shoulders, his fingertips skimming along my neck and down my arm.
'Would you like me to tell you about my other feelings?'
