AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
—
Grandma and I decided not to mention the shooting incident to anyone, but there was always the chance that someone had witnessed it and called my mom. The subject didn’t come up during lunch, and I felt I was home free when, after lunch, my mom didn’t turn to ironing or chugging bourbon. Morelli hadn’t phoned, and that was okay with me. Between the brunch buffet and the rump roast sandwiches for lunch, I was thinking I needed a nap. Fortunately, my father had very nicely gassed up the Buick for me.
Grandma said she was taking the night off from socializing and was skipping Greta Nelson’s viewing at Stiva’s. I thought this was a good decision. She was probably safe if she stayed home. After all, my father had his baseball bat.
I took a baggie of Italian cookies from my mom, trudged out to my car, and drove to my apartment in a food stupor.
I let myself into my apartment and gave Rex half an almond cookie.
“Suppose you had a really important key,” I said to Rex. “Where would you keep it?”
It was a rhetorical question because I already knew the answer. He’d keep the key in his soup can. That’s where he kept everything. Jimmy Rosolli had other options.
I took my MacBook Air and a steno pad to the dining room table and asked myself the same question I’d asked Rex. Where would I keep an important key? My keys were all on a key ring that I kept in the messenger bag that doubled as my purse. Okay, but suppose I had some keys that were too valuable for the key ring? Safe-deposit box? Gym locker? Safe? None of the above for me. I didn’t go to a gym. I didn’t have a safe. And a safe-deposit box would require a trip to the bank, and that was a pain in the ass. I’d hide the keys in my underwear drawer. This did me no good, since rumor had it that multiple people had already looked in Jimmy’s underwear drawer.
This was made even more ridiculous by the fact that I didn’t know how many keys were involved or what those keys looked like. Big? Little? Key cards? I didn’t know what the keys opened. And I didn’t know what sort of treasure they kept locked away.
There were six La-Z-Boys. One was dead. One was unknown. One was going to avoid me at all costs because he was a fugitive. That left Lou Salgusta, Benny the Skootch, and Julius Roman. It would help if I could get one of them to talk to me. First thing tomorrow I’d have Connie run background checks. Next thing I’d start knocking on doors. Trying to talk to them at the Mole Hole wasn’t going to work. I was going to have to get them alone. I suspected my funeral grace period was over, so I needed to be extra vigilant.
I checked on Grandma at six o’clock. It was all good. Maybe it would stay good. It could happen, right? The keys could turn up. They could be in the pocket of a jacket that was taken to the cleaners, or they could be in the freezer behind the cookie dough ice cream. Jimmy was old. He probably misplaced things all the time.
Morelli called at seven o’clock. “I got stuck doing paperwork and then I got talked into football with some guys from work. Is everything okay with you?”
“Jimmy’s sister Rose tried to run over Grandma and me when we were walking home from the bakery, but we jumped out of the way. Grandma shot off a side mirror, and Rose took off down the road.”
“I don’t know who’s crazier . . . Rose or Grandma.”
“Yeah, that’s a tough one. Where are you? It sounds like you’re in a sports bar.”
“I’m home. Some of the guys came with me to watch the game. There’s still pizza left if you want to come over.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’ve got stuff to think about.”
I called Grandma at eight o’clock and at ten o’clock. Nothing new going on. No firebombs. No break-ins. No attempted kidnappings. Yay!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I DROVE PAST my parents’ house on my way to work. There were no strange cars parked on the street, and the house felt benign, so I continued on to the bail bonds office. Connie had just arrived and unlocked the front door. Lula wasn’t there yet.
“This doesn’t happen often,” Connie said, setting the box of donuts on her desk. “You get first pick.”
“I woke up at four-thirty and couldn’t get back to sleep. I’m worried about Grandma. Everyone’s out to get her. Jimmy’s sisters. The La-Z-Boys. Who knows who else.”
“I thought the keys would have turned up by now,” Connie said. “Hard to believe no one knows where Jimmy kept them.”
“Maybe someone did know. Maybe someone got to the keys and is sitting on them.”
“One of the other La-Z-Boys?”
I shrugged. “Could be anyone. There were six chairs in the back room at the Mole Hole. They belonged to Jimmy, Benny, Charlie Shine, Lou Salgusta, and Julius Roman. Do you know who owns the sixth chair?”
“I don’t think it was ever occupied after Big Artie.”
“So, when someone dies the chair stays empty?”
“That’s my understanding, but I’m not sure,” Connie said. “I’ll ask my mom. She might know.”
