gun is registered?"
"What do you mean?" Grandma asked. "Registered where?"
"Get rid of it," Morelli said to me. "Get it out of my sight."
I shoved Grandma back inside with the gun and closed the door. "I'll take care of it," I said to Morelli. "I'll make sure it's returned to its owner."
"So this ridiculous story is true?"
"Where were you? Why didn't you see any of this?"
"I was relieving Roche. I was watching the funeral home. I wasn't watching my car." He glanced over at the Buick. "No damage?"
"Scratched the rear bumper."
"Does the army know about this car?"
I thought it was time to remind Morelli of my usefulness. "Did you run a check on Spiro's guns?"
"They all checked out. Registered nice and legal."
So much for usefulness.
"Stephanie," my mother called from inside. "Are you out there without a coat? You're going to catch your death."
"Speaking of death," Morelli said. "They found a body to go with your foot. It floated into one of the bridge supports this morning."
"Sandeman?"
"Yeah."
"You think Kenny is self-destructing, looking to get caught?"
"I think it's not that complicated. He's a squirrel. This started out as a clever way to make a lot of money. Something went wrong, the operation got fucked up, and Kenny couldn't handle it. Now he's wound up so tight his eyes are crossed, and he's looking for people to blame . . . Moogey, Spiro, you."
"He's lost it, hasn't he?"
"Big time."
"You think Spiro is as crazy as Kenny?"
"Spiro isn't crazy. Spiro is small."
It was true. Spiro was a pimple on the burg's butt. I glanced over at Morelli's car. It didn't look drivable. "You need a ride somewhere?"
"I can manage."
Stiva's lot was already filled at seven o'clock, and cars lined the curb for two blocks down Hamilton. I double-parked just short of the service driveway and told Grandma she should go in without me.
She'd changed into a dress and the big blue coat and looked very colorful marching up Stiva's front steps with her apricot hair. She had her black patent leather purse tucked into the crook of her arm, and her bandaged hand stood out like a white flag, proclaiming her as one of the walking wounded in the war against Kenny Mancuso.
I circled the block twice before finding a spot. I hustled to the funeral parlor, entered through the side door, and steeled myself against the claustrophobic hothouse heat and crowd murmur. When this was over I was never again going into a funeral parlor. I didn't care who died. I wasn't having any part of it. Could be my mother or my grandmother. They were going to have to manage on their own.
I sidled up to Roche at the tea table. "I see your brother's being buried tomorrow morning."
"Yeah. Boy, I sure am going to miss this place. I'm going to miss these cheapskate, sawdust cookies. And I'm going to miss the tea. Yum, I sure do love tea." He looked around. "Hell, I don't know what I'm complaining about. I've had worse assignments. Last year I was on a stakeout, dressed up like a bag lady, and I got mugged. Got two broken ribs."
"Have you seen my grandmother?"
"Yeah. I saw her come in, but then I lost her in the crowd. I imagine she's trying to get a look at the guy that had his . . . um, thing, whacked off."
I put my head down and muscled my way into the room where Joe Loosey was laid out. I elbowed to the front until I reached the casket and the widow Loosey. I'd expected Grandma to have insinuated herself into the space reserved for the immediate family, her reasoning being that she'd seen Joe's penis and was now on intimate terms.
"I'm sorry for your loss," I said to Mrs. Loosey. "Have you seen Grandmother Mazur?"
She looked alarmed. "Edna is here?"
"I dropped her off about ten minutes ago. I expected she'd have come to pay her respects."
Mrs. Loosey put a protective hand on the casket. "I haven't seen her."
I pushed through the crowd and dropped in on Roche's fake brother. A handful of people were in the back of the room. From the level of animation I'd guess they were talking about the great penis scandal. I asked if anyone had seen Grandma Mazur. The answers were negative. I returned to the lobby. I checked the kitchen, the ladies' room, the porch to the side door. I questioned everyone in my path.
No one had seen a little old lady in a big