Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,53

job well done.

Morelli was at the coffeemaker when I came in. "No doughnuts?" he asked.

"I forgot."

"I've never known you to forget doughnuts."

"I had other things on my mind."

"Like marriage?"

"That, too."

Morelli poured out two mugs of coffee and handed one to me. "Ever notice how marriage seems a lot more urgent at night than it does in the morning?"

"Does that mean you no longer want to get married?"

Morelli leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. "You're not getting off the hook that easy."

"There are lots of things we've never talked about."

"Such as?"

"Children. Suppose we have children and it turns out we don't like then?"

"If we can like Bob, we can like anything," Morelli said.

Bob was in the living room licking lint off the carpet.

EDDIE DECHOOCH CALLED ten minutes after Morelli and Bob left for work.

"What's it gonna be?" he asked. "Do you want to make a deal?"

"I want Mooner."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I haven't got him. And I don't know where he is. Nobody I know has him, either. Maybe he got scared and ran away."

I didn't know what to say because it was a possibility.

"You're keeping it cold, right?" DeChooch said. "I need to get it in good shape. My ass is on the line for this."

"Yep. It's cold, all right. You're not going to believe what good shape it's in. Just find Mooner and you can see for yourself." And I hung up.

What the heck was he talking about?

I called Connie, but she wasn't in the office yet. I left a message for her to get back to me and I took a shower. While I was in the shower I summarized my life. I was after a depressed senior citizen who was making me look like a dunce. Two of my friends were missing without a trace. I looked like I'd just gone a round with George Foreman. I had a wedding gown I didn't want to wear and a hall I didn't want to use. Morelli wanted to marry me. And Ranger wanted to . . . Hell, I didn't want to think about what Ranger wanted to do to me. Oh yeah, and there was Melvin Baylor, who, for all I knew, was still on my parents' couch.

I got out of the shower, got dressed, put in minimum effort on my hair, and Connie called.

"Have you heard any more from Aunt Flo or Uncle Bingo?" I asked Connie. "I need to know what went wrong in Richmond. I need to know what everyone's looking for. It's something that needs to be kept cold. Pharmaceuticals, maybe."

"How do you know it needs to be kept cold?"

"DeChooch."

"You talked to DeChooch?"

"He calls me." Sometimes I can't believe my own life. I have an FTA who calls me. How weird is that?

"I'll see what I can find out," Connie said.

I called Grandma next.

"I need some information about Eddie DeChooch," I said. "I thought you might ask around."

"What do you want to know?"

"He had a problem in Richmond, and now he's looking for something. I want to know what he's looking for."

"Leave it to me!"

"Is Melvin Baylor still there?"

"Nope. He went home."

I said good-bye to Grandma, and there was a knock on my door. I opened the door a crack and looked out. It was Valerie. She was dressed in a tailored black suit jacket and slacks with a white starched shirt and a man's black-and-red striped tie. The Meg Ryan shag was plastered back behind her ears.

"New look," I said. "What's the occasion?"

"It's my first day as a lesbian."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. I said to myself, why wait? I'm making a fresh start here. I decided I should just jump right in. I'm going to get a job. And I'm going to get a girlfriend. No reason to sit home sulking over a failed relationship."

"I didn't think you were serious the other night. Have you had any . . . um, experience as a lesbian?"

"No, but how hard can it be?"

"I don't know if I like this," I said. "I'm used to being the black sheep of the family. This could change my standing."

"Don't be silly," Valerie said. "No one will care that I'm a lesbian."

Valerie was in California way too long.

"Anyhoo," she said, "I've got a job interview. Do I look okay? I want to be honest about my new sexual orientation, but I don't want to be overly butch."

"You don't want the dykes-on-bikes look."

"Exactly. I want the lesbian-chic look."

Having had limited lesbian experience I