sportier. It was the darnedest thing how it happened. Louise came over to take me driving and she said she heard about how the Dealer was going out of business. And so, of course, we had to hurry over to stock up on Metamucil. And then while we were there I bought a car."
"You bought a car from Dougie?"
"You bet. And it's a beaut."
I cut Mooner the death look, but it was lost on him. Mooner's emotional range didn't go that far beyond mellow.
"Wait'll you see your granny's car," Mooner said. "It's an excellent car."
"It's a babe car," Grandma said. "I look just like Christie Brinkley in it."
David Brinkley, I could believe. Christie was a stretch. But hey, if it made Grandma happy then it was fine by me. "What kind of car is it?"
"It's a 'vette," Grandma said. "And it's red."
SO MY GRANDMOTHER has a red Corvette, and I have a blue '53 Buick and a big zit on my chin. Hell, it could be worse, I told myself. The zit could be on my nose.
"Besides," Grandma said, "I know how you like the Buick. I didn't want to take the Buick away from you."
I nodded and tried to smile. "Excuse me," I said. "I'm going to wash my hands for dinner."
I calmly walked to the bathroom, closed and locked the door, looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, and sniffled. A tear leaked out of my left eye. Get a grip, I told myself. It's just a pimple. It'll go away. Yes, but what about the Buick? I asked. The Buick was worrisome. The Buick showed no signs of going away. Another tear leaked out. You're too emotional, I said to the person in the mirror. You're making a big deal over nothing. Probably this is just a temporary hormone imbalance resulting from lack of sleep.
I splashed some water on my face and blew my nose. At least I could sleep easier tonight knowing I had an alarm on the door. I didn't so much mind Ranger visiting at two in the morning . . . it was that I hated him sneaking up on me. What if I was drooling in my sleep, and he was sitting there watching me? What if he was sitting there staring at my pimple?
MOONER LEFT AFTER dinner and Grandma went to bed early after showing me her new car.
Morelli called at five after nine. "Sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner," he said. "It's been one of those days. How about you?"
"I have a pimple."
"I can't compete with that."
"Do you know a woman named Cynthia Lotte? Rumor has it she was Homer Ramos's girlfriend."
"From what I know about Homer, he changed girlfriends like other men change socks."
"Have you ever met his father?"
"I've spoken to him a couple times."
"And your opinion?"
"Typical good of boy Greek gun-runner. Haven't seen him lately." There was a pause. "Grandma Mazur still with you?"
"Yep."
Morelli did a big sigh.
"My mom wants to know if you'd like to come to dinner tomorrow. She's making a pork roast."
"Sure," Morelli said. "You're going to be there, right?"
"Me and Grandma and Bob."
"Oh boy," Morelli said.
I hung up, took Bob for a walk around the block, gave Rex a grape, and then watched television for a while. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the hockey game and woke up in time to catch the last half of a show on serial killers and forensics. When the show was over I triple-checked the locks on the front door and hung the motion detector from the doorknob. If someone opened the door, the alarm would go off. I sure hoped that didn't happen, because after the show on forensics I felt a little freaked. Ranger staring at my pimple didn't seem like much of a concern compared to someone cutting my tongue out and taking it home for his frozen-tongue collection. Just to play it safe I went into the kitchen and hid all the knives. No sense in making it easy for a madman to sneak in and carve me up with my own steak knife. Then I took my gun out of the cookie jar and tucked it under a couch cushion in case I needed to get at it quickly.
I turned the lights out and crawled under the quilt on my makeshift bed on the couch. Grandma was snoring in the bedroom. The freezer whirred into the defrost cycle in the kitchen. There was the distant sound