filled the doorway. His hair stood out from his head in snarls, his eyes were half closed and he stood stoop shouldered and barefoot, hairy arms dangling from my too-small, fuzzy pink robe.
"Man," he said, "this house is frantic. I mean, like, what time is it, dude?"
"Oh jeez," my father said, grim-faced, "he's wearing ladies' clothes again."
"It was in the closet," Sally said. "Guess the clothes fairy left it for me."
My father opened his mouth to say something, my mother gave him a sharp look, and my father snapped his mouth shut.
"What's that you're eating?" Sally asked.
"Cereal."
"Far out."
"Would you like some?"
He shuffled to the coffeemaker. "Just coffee."
Grandma Mazur hustled in. "What's going on? I didn't miss anything, did I?"
I was sitting at the table, and I could feel her breath on the back of my head. "Something wrong?"
"Just looking at this new-style hairdo you got. Never seen anything like it, what with these big chunks cut outta the back."
I closed my eyes. The egg. "How bad is it?" I asked my mother. As if I didn't already know.
"If you have some free time you might want to go to the beauty parlor."
"I thought it was some punk thing," Sally said. "It'd be rad if it was purple. Maybe spiked out."
AFTER BREAKFAST, Sally and I took another walk over to Morelli's house. We stood in the alley behind the house, and I dialed Morelli on my cell phone.
"I'm in your yard," I told him. "I didn't want to walk through your back door and get blown away."
"No problem."
Morelli was at the sink, rinsing out his coffee mug. "I was just getting ready to take off," he said. "They found Kuntz's car parked in the farmers' market lot by the tracks."
"And?"
"That's it."
"Blood? Bullet holes?"
"Nope," Morelli said. "A-one condition. At first glance doesn't look like anything was stolen. No vandalism. No sign of struggle."
"Was it locked?"
"Yep. My guess is it was left there sometime early this morning. Any sooner than that and it would have been stripped clean."
"Anything happen here last night?"
"Nothing. Very quiet. What are you up to today?"
I picked at my hair. "Beauty parlor."
A grin tugged at the corners of Morelli's mouth. "Going to ruin my handiwork?"
"You didn't take any more hair off than you absolutely had to, right?"
"Right," Morelli said, the grin still in place.
Usually, I got my hair done by Mr. Alexander at the mall. Unfortunately, Mr. Alexander couldn't work me into his busy schedule today, so I opted for Grandma's salon, the Clip and Curl on Hamilton. I had a nine-thirty appointment. Not that it mattered. My gossip rating was so high I could walk into Clip and Curl any time of the day or night, no waiting necessary.
We left through the front door, and I noticed the van parked across the street.
"Grossman," Morelli said.
"He have a Duc in that van?"
"No. He's got a two-way radio, a crossword puzzle book, and a jelly jar."
I had my eye on the Porsche and the butter-soft leather seats. And I knew I'd look very cool in the Porsche.
"Forget it," Morelli said. "Take the Buick. If you get into trouble the Buick is built like a tank."
"I'm going to the beauty parlor," I said. "I'm not going to get into trouble."
"Cupcake, your middle name is trouble."
Sally was standing between the Porsche and the Buick. "So, like, what's it gonna be?" he asked.
"The Porsche," I said. "Definitely the Porsche."
Sally buckled himself in. "This car does zero to a hundred in a fucking second." He cranked the engine over and catapulted us off the curb.
"Yow!" I said. "This is a family neighborhood. Slow down!"
Sally looked at me from behind reflector shades. "I like speed, man. Speed is good."
I had my hands braced on the dashboard. "Stop street! Stop street!"
"Stops on a dime," Sally said, stomping on the brake.
I jerked against the shoulder harness. "Ulk."
Sally lay an affectionate hand on the steering wheel. "This car is like a total engineering experience."
"Are you on drugs?"
"No way. Not this early in the day," Sally said. "What do I look like, a bum?"
He turned onto Hamilton and lead-footed it to Clip and Curl. He parked and looked at the shop over the tops of his glasses. "Retro."
Dolly had converted the downstairs part of her two-story house into a beauty parlor. I'd come here as a little girl to get my bangs cut, and nothing had changed since then. If it was midday or Saturday, the place would be packed. Since it was early morning only two women were