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My mother's back went rigid at the stove. First the wedding planner and now this.
I cut another piece of cake and headed out. 'I have to go. Joe's waiting.'
Joe and Bob were on the couch, watching television. I dropped my purse on the small hall table and took the grocery bag into the kitchen. I made sandwiches and spooned out the potato salad.
`I'm thinking about getting a cookbook,' I told Morelli when I handed him his plate.
'Wow,' he said. 'What's that all about?'
`I'm getting tired of sandwiches and pizza.'
'A cookbook sounds like a big commitment.'
'It's not a commitment,' I said. 'It's a stupid cookbook. I could learn how to cook a chicken or a cow, or something.'
'Would we have to get married?'
'No.' Jeez.
Bob finished his sandwich and looked first to me and then to
Morelli. He knew from past experience that it wasn't likely we'd share, so he put his head down on his paw and went back to watching Seinfeld.
'So-o-o,' I said. 'Did you hear about Eugene Brown?'
'What about him?'
1 bounced him off my car today.'
Morelli took a forkful of potato salad. 'Am I going to hate the rest of this story?'
'It's possible. It was sort of a hit-and-run.'
'So this falls under the category of making an official police report?'
'Unofficial police report.'
'Did you kill him?'
1 don't think so. He was latched on to the hood of the Buick, hanging on to the windshield wiper, and he got pitched off when I turned the corner. I was at Seventh and Comstock, and I didn't think it was a good idea to get out of the car to check his vital signs.'
Morelli collected the three plates and stood to take them to the kitchen. 'Dessert?'
'Chocolate ice cream.' I followed after him and watched while he scooped. 'That was too easy,' I said. 'You didn't yell or tell me I was stupid, or anything.'
`I'm pacing myself.'
I rolled out of bed with Morelli at the crack of dawn.
This is getting scary,' Morelli said. 'First you're thinking about buying a cookbook. And now you're getting up with me. Next thing you'll be inviting my grandmother over for dinner.'
Not likely. His Grandma Bella was nuts. She had this Italian voodoo thing going that she called the eye. I'm not saying the eye worked, but I've known people who got the eye to coincidentally lose their hair, or skip their period, or break out in an unexplained rash. I was half Italian, but none of my relatives could give the eye.
Mostly, my relatives gave the finger.
We showered together. And that involved some fooling around.
So before Morelli even had breakfast he was already a half hour late.
