Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,88

Couric is like, so cute."

"And then I took the empty cooler to Richmond," Dougie said.

"Spotty ate Louie D's heart," I said.

"That's it," Mooner said. He finished his doughnut and wiped his hands on his shirt. "Well, we've got to go. Things to do."

"Thanks for the doughnuts."

"Hey, no problemo."

I stood in the kitchen for ten minutes, trying to come to terms with this new information, wondering if it meant something in the larger scheme of things. Is this what happens when you irreparably screw up your karma? A dog eats your heart? I couldn't reach any conclusions, so I decided to take a shower and see if that helped.

I locked the door and shuffled off to the bathroom. I got as far as the living room when there was another knock, and before I could get to the door it was opened with enough force to make the security chain kaching into place and then break loose from its moorings. This was followed by cussing, which I recognized as coming from Morelli.

"Good morning," I said, eyeing the chain, which was dangling uselessly.

"Not by any stretch of the imagination is it a good morning," Morelli said. His eyes were dark and narrowed and his mouth set tight. "You didn't go over to Pinwheel Soba's house last night, did you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Not me."

"Good. That's what I thought . . . because some idiot went in there and destroyed it. Shot the shit out of it. In fact, it's suspected there were two people having the gunfight of the century in there. And I knew you wouldn't be that fucking stupid."

"Got that right," I said.

"Jesus Christ, Stephanie," he yelled, "what were you thinking? What the hell was going on over there?"

"Wasn't me, remember?"

"Oh yeah. I forgot. Well then, what do you suppose someone else was doing in Soba's house?"

"I imagine they were looking for DeChooch. And then maybe they found DeChooch and an altercation arose."

"And DeChooch escaped?"

"That would be my guess."

"Good thing no prints were found other than DeChooch, because otherwise whoever was fucking stupid enough to shoot up Soba's house would not only be in trouble with the police but would answer to Soba."

I was starting to get annoyed that he was still yelling at me. "Good thing," I said with my PMS voice. "Anything else?"

"Yes, there's something else. I ran into Dougie and Mooner in the parking lot. They told me you and Ranger rescued them."

"So?"

"In Richmond."

"So?"

"And Ranger got shot?"

"Flesh wound."

Morelli pressed his lips tighter together. "Jesus."

"I was worried the pig heart would be discovered and revenge would be taken out on Mooner and Dougie."

"Very admirable, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Christ, I'm getting an ulcer. You've got me drinking bottles of Maalox. I hate this. I hate going through the day wondering what harebrained scheme you're involved in, wondering who's shooting at you."

"That's so hypocritical. You're a cop."

"I never get shot at. The only time I have to worry about getting shot is when I'm with you."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're going to have to choose between me or the job."

"Well, guess what, I'm not spending the rest of my life with someone who gives me ultimatums."

"Fine."

"Fine."

And he left, slamming the door behind him. I like to think I'm a pretty stable person, but this was too much. I cried until I was totally cried out and then I ate three doughnuts and took a shower. I toweled off and still felt overwhelmed so I decided to bleach my hair blond. Change is good, right?

"I WANT IT blond," I told Mr. Arnold, the only hairdresser I could find open on a Sunday. "Platinum blond. I want to look like Marilyn."

"Darling," Arnold said, "with your hair you won't look like Marilyn. You'll look like Art Garfunkel."

"Just do it."

MR. MORGANSTERN WAS in the lobby when I got back. "Whoa," he said, "you look like that singer . . . what's the name?"

"Garfunkel?"

"No. The one with the breasts like ice-cream cones."

"Madonna."

"Yep. That's the one."

I let myself into my apartment and went straight to the bathroom and looked at my hair in the mirror. I liked it. It was different. Classy in a slutty sort of way.

I had a stack of mail on the kitchen counter that I'd been avoiding. I got a beer to celebrate my new hair, and I sorted through the mail. Bills, bills, bills. I thumbed through my checkbook. Not enough money. I needed to capture DeChooch.

My guess was DeChooch had a