Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,21

stomach is hunger. Sure, that's it! Good thing I went shopping at Giovichinni's. I dug out the Tastykakes, and gave Bob a coconut layer cake. I ate the package of butterscotch krimpets.

"What do you think?" I asked Bob. "Do you feel better now?"

I felt better. Cake always makes me feel better. In fact I felt so good I decided to go out and look for Eddie DeChooch again. Different neighborhood this time. This time I was going to try Ronald's neighborhood. There was the added incentive of knowing Ronald wasn't at hone.

Bob and I drove across town to Cherry Street. Cherry Street is part of a residential pocket at the northeast corner of Trenton. It's a neighborhood of mostly two-family houses on small building lots and it feels a little like the Burg. It was late afternoon. School was out. Televisions ran in living rooms and kitchens. Crockpots simmered.

I crept past Ronald's house looking for the white Cadillac, looking for Eddie DeChooch. Ronald's house was a single family with red-brick facing. Not as pretentious as Joyce's with her columns but not all that tasteful, either. The garage door was closed. A minivan sat in the driveway. The small front yard was neatly landscaped around a three-foot-tall, blue-and-white statue of the Virgin Mary. She looked composed and at peace in her plaster shrine. More than I could say for myself in my fiberglass Honda.

Bob and I cruised the street, peeking down driveways, straining to see the shadowy figures who moved behind sheer curtains. We drove Cherry Street twice and then began investigating the rest of the neighborhood, dividing it into grids. We saw a lot of big old cars, but we didn't see any big old white Cadillacs. And we didn't see Eddie DeChooch.

"No stone unturned," I said to Bob, trying to justify time wasted.

Bob gave me a look that said whatever. He had his head out the window, looking for cute miniature poodles.

I turned onto Olden Avenue and headed for home. I was about to cross Greenwood when Eddie DeChooch sailed past me in the white Caddy, going in the opposite direction.

I hung a U-turn in the middle of the intersection. It was coming up to rush hour and there were a lot of cars on the road. A dozen people leaned on their horns and flipped me hand signals. I forced myself into the stream of traffic and tried to keep Eddie in my line of vision. I was about ten cars behind him. I saw him wheel off onto State Street, heading for center city. By the time I was able to make the turn I'd lost him.

I GOT HOME ten minutes before Joe arrived.

"What's with the flowers in the hall?" he wanted to know.

"Ronald DeChooch sent them. And I don't want to talk about it."

Morelli watched me for a beat. "Am I going to have to shoot him?"

"He's laboring under the delusion that we're attracted to each other."

"A lot of us labor under that delusion."

Bob galloped over to Morelli and pushed against him to get Morelli's attention. Morelli gave Bob a hug and a full body rub. Lucky dog.

"I saw Eddie DeChooch today," I said.

"And?"

"And I lost him again."

Morelli grinned. "Famous bounty hunter loses old guy . . . twice." Actually it was three times!

Morelli closed the space between us and slid his arms around me. "Do you need consoling?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"How much time do we have?"

I did a sigh. "Not enough." God forbid I should be five minutes late for dinner. The spaghetti would be overcooked. The pot roast would be dry. And it would all be my fault. I would have ruined dinner. Again. And worse, my perfect sister, Valerie, has never ruined dinner. My sister had the sense to move thousands of miles away. That's how perfect she is.

MY MOTHER OPENED the door to Joe and me. Bob bounded in, ears flopping, eyes bright.

"Isn't he cute," Grandma said. "Isn't he something."

"Get the cake up on the refrigerator," my mother said. "And where's the pot roast? Don't let him near the pot roast."

My father was already at the table, keeping his eye on the pot roast, staking out the end slab of beef.

"So what's happening with the wedding?" Grandma asked when we were all at the table, digging into the food. "I was just at the beauty parlor, and the girls wanted to know about the date. And they wanted to know did we have a hall rented? Marilyn Biaggi tried to