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“Besides that.”
“I ripped my jeans when I fell down the stairs. Your grandmother said I was going to hell. A couple guys shot at me. I apprehended Ziggy Radiewski, and he peed himself.”
“So it was a normal day,” Morelli said.
I gave up a sigh.
“And you’re going to Bingo tonight?”
I nodded. “That’s why I need the drugs.”
Morelli took the chicken out of the oven. “The chicken looks good. What else do you have to eat?”
“Potatoes in the form of chips.”
“Works for me,” Morelli said.
We ate the chicken and chips, and Bob came over and pushed against me.
“Don’t feed him,” Morelli said. “He’s getting fat. I fed him before we got here.”
“Tell me about the latest Dumpster victim.”
“Not much to tell. She fit the profile. Seventy-six years old. Lived alone. Withdrew money from her bank account one day and dead the next. She was strangled and wrapped in a sheet. The details were consistent with the other victims.”
“Do you know what was used to strangle her?”
“A Venetian blind cord. Just like always.”
“You’d have to be pretty strong to strangle someone.”
“Not necessarily. The women selected were frail,” Morelli said. “And two of them had blunt force trauma to the back of their heads. They were knocked out and then strangled.”
“Anything else?”
“We haven’t made it public, but they all had a single sunflower somewhere in their home. Melvina had it in a jelly jar in her kitchen. Lois had one in a vase on her dining room table.”
“A calling card?”
“Something like that.”
I brought the banana cream pie and two forks to the table, and we dug in.
“You even defrosted it,” Morelli said.
“I’m no slouch when it comes to pie.”
We finished the pie and carried our dishes into the kitchen. Morelli gave the last chunk of pie crust to Rex, gave a small piece of chicken he’d been saving to Bob, and reached out for me, pulling me flat against him. “I haven’t taken any pills today,” he said. “I have full control over my tongue.”
“No time,” I told him. “Lula will be here any minute. Maybe we can test out your tongue after Bingo.”
“Can’t do it after Bingo. I promised my brother I’d go to the ball game with him.” He looked at my splinted finger. “Do you really want drugs?”
“No. I’m feeling better now that I’m full of wine and pie.”
Morelli moved to kiss me, and the doorbell rang.
“Don’t answer it,” he said. “Eventually she’ll go away.”
