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“How’d he know? Did you get to see him?”
“He looked at them with a drone camera. I didn’t get to see him.”
“This is a freaking downer. I was sure you’d come back with Connie. What are you going to do now? How do you get the right coin?”
“For starters, I need to find Carpenter Beedle.”
“I thought he was supposed to stay in his house,” Lula said.
“Turns out he’s not good at following directions.”
“Well, I’m going with you to look for him. Now that Vinnie’s in town I don’t need to stay here. Especially since you’re driving Ranger’s Batmobile.”
“The first stop is my parents’ house. I need lunch and I need information.”
“I’m all about that,” Lula said.
Grandma was in the living room doing Zumba with a woman on television. “You should try this,” Grandma said to Lula and me. “It gives you endorphins and tight butt cheeks.”
“And heck, who doesn’t want endorphins and tight butt cheeks,” Lula said.
“I’m going to have butt cheeks so tight I could crack a walnut,” Grandma said.
“Sign me up,” Lula said.
“I’m going to pass,” I said.
“It’s over anyway,” Grandma said. “There’s another one coming on but it’s for seniors and there’s no walnut-cracking expectations.”
“What’s the point then,” Lula said. “My philosophy is aim high and fail big.”
“I like the way you think,” Grandma said. “Have you had lunch? We already ate but there’s cold cuts and leftovers.”
Grandma shut the television off, and we all went to the kitchen. My mom was sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a basket of yarn, and she was knitting what looked like a twenty-seven-foot scarf.
“Hey, Mrs. P,” Lula said. “That’s a nice thing you got going there. I like the pink sparkly yarn you’re using. Adds some glam. What are you making?”
“I’m not making anything,” she said. “I’m just knitting. It’s relaxing as long as you don’t have to worry about making a perfect sweater.”
I found some leftover chicken parm in the fridge. I shared it with Lula, and we finished it off with ice-cream bars.
“What’s the latest on Paul Mori, the dead dry cleaner?” I asked Grandma. “Any suspects?”
“I haven’t heard about any. People are saying he might have made an enemy in jail. The timing is strange. And he wasn’t robbed. He still had his watch and his wallet. I imagine there’ll be talk about him at the Leoni viewing tonight. We should scout around before we make a move on Bella.”
My mother sucked in some air and stopped knitting. “You willnotmake a move on Bella at the viewing,” she said. “It would be disrespectful.”
“I guess we could wait to snatch Bella at the Mori viewing,” Grandma said. “His viewing is tomorrow. It’s going to draw even better than Len Leoni tonight. A shooting always tops an aneurism.”
My mother looked at Lula. “This is why I knit.”
“I hear you,” Lula said. “There’s rules about polite society. All you gotta do is watchBridgertonand you can see people with lots of rules. Of course, that was England, and this is Jersey. Our rules in Jersey are more commonsense. Like you don’t double-dip the chip in sauce if someone’s looking. And if someone’s got a gun rack or a big dog in his truck you don’t cut him off in traffic.”
“News at the bakery this morning is that Connie isn’t back yet,” Grandma said. “I didn’t say anything about you-know-what. So far as I can see, we’re the only ones who know what’s going on.”
My mom looked from Grandma to me. “What’s going on? What’s you-know-what?”
“Connie’s been kidnapped,” I said. “We’re keeping it quiet while we work to get her released.”
