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“It would depend on the job. Even then I’m not sure. You’re like a magnet for disaster. How many of your cars have gotten blown up?”
“I don’t know. I lost count.”
“How many of my cars have gotten blown up?”
“Zero?”
“Wrong,” Morelli said. “Two. Both of them because of you. Car number one you ‘commandeered’ and it got blown up in your parking lot. Car number two you parked in my garage, left the garage door open, and Mama Macaroni blew the car and the garage halfway to hell.”
“Maybe I need an exorcist.”
“Let’s assume it’s your job and not the Devil. If you quit your job, what would you do?”
“That’s the hitch,” I said. “I don’t know.”
“There must be something that’s always in the back of your mind that you would like to try. A fantasy job.”
“Nope. I’ve got nothing.”
“Do you like kids? Old people? Sick people? Animals? Clothes? Cars?”
“I like all those things, but I don’t want a job associated with them. I guess I don’t love them on a group level.”
“What do you love?”
“Peanut butter.”
“That’s a little limiting, cupcake.”
I could tell he was smiling when he said that.
“It just popped out. I also love olives and wine with screw caps. What do you love?” I asked him.
“I love my job and I love Bob and I love you.”
That made me feel warm inside.
“I love you too,” I said. “Do you want to give me a job?”
“Maybe. What can you do?”
“You know what I can do.”
“I definitely want to give you a job. Are you available tonight?”
“No, I’m in my bunker. I’m under surveillance. I’m going to bed and hide under the covers.”
I was in the kitchen eating Ritz crackers and finishing up a bottle of Chianti that I found in the back of my cupboard when Ranger let himself into my apartment. He eased me close into him and kissed me with a touch of tongue.
“Ritz crackers and red wine,” he said. “Makes me hungry.”
“For Ritz crackers?”
“No.”
“For red wine?”
“Wrong again. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to stay hungry because I’m working. I’m taking a shift with a new man. I’ve got him sitting in the lot with Hal.”
