probably in their seventies. It was hard to judge their exact age because they were Botoxed, exfoliated, and moisturized, and had skin like a baby’s bottom.
Gordon Krutch was the third man. He was also in his seventies, but without the benefits of gaydom his face looked like a road map of Newark: lots of intersecting streets, plus a bunch of potholes, and skin the color and texture of concrete.
Grandma caught Gordon’s eye and waved at him. Gordon waved back and blew Grandma a kiss.
“Isn’t he something?” Grandma said to me. “We’re going to the movies tomorrow. He still drives and everything. He’s a real catch. He’s kept himself in shape. He takes the fitness class for old people at the Senior Center.”
I suppose it’s relative, but Gordon didn’t look to me like he was in great shape. He was about fifty pounds overweight, and he broke into a sweat from the exertion of walking. Plus there was the near-death pallor.
“Ever since his wife died he’s been the hot ticket,” Grandma said.
“Has he dated any of the women who were murdered?”
“Not that I know about.”
I had a feeling the Bingo connection wasn’t going to lead to a suspect. There had to be something else the murdered women had in common.
Morelli’s ringtone sang out on my cellphone.
“I’ve only got a minute,” Morelli said. “Double homicide in the projects. Not sure when I’ll be done here.”
“Bingo!” Grandma yelled.
“Stephanie got Bingo!”
I looked over at my card, and I looked up at the screen. Bingo.
“What did I win?” I asked Grandma.
“One of them slow cookers.”
“No money?”
“No. It wasn’t a money game. It was a potluck game.”
“I won a slow cooker at Bingo,” I told Morelli.
“You’re at Bingo?”
“Yeah, and I won!”
Two hours later I carefully stepped out of the firehouse and looked around. No big black cars with gun turrets. No thugs with Tasers. No scary Italian granny with an assault rifle. Good deal.
I dropped Grandma off at my parents’ house and took my slow cooker home. I parked in the lot to my apartment building, and Ranger’s 911 Turbo slid in next to me. I hauled the massive slow cooker box out of my car and saw Ranger’s mouth twitch at the corners, suggesting the beginning of a smile.
“I won it,” I told him.
“The perfect prize.”
“Scoff all you want, but I might use it. I’ve been thinking about taking up cooking. I made dinner the other night.”
“How’d that go?” Ranger asked.
“I exploded the vegetables in the microwave, but other than that it went pretty good.”
“You never disappoint,” Ranger said, taking the box from me.
He carried the box into my apartment and set it on my kitchen counter. Rex came out of his soup can to take a look, decided the box wasn’t all that interesting, and went back into his soup can.
“I think the Bingo connection is dead in the water,” I saidto Ranger. “The women must have had something else in common.”
“Keep working at it. Do you need help with Sunucchi?”
“I might. He spends his nights with Rita Raguzzi. She has a house in Hamilton Township, and I think that’s the best place to grab him. It’s the only time Sunny isn’t surrounded by his posse.”
“This is shotgun Rita?”
“Yeah. It should be fun.”
“Good,” Ranger said. “I’m all about fun.”
“Since when?”
He pulled me into him and kissed me. There was some highly skilled groping and use of tongue, and on a fun scale of 1 to 10 it was an 11.
“Call me when you’re ready to do the takedown,” Ranger said.
I locked the door after him, took the slow cooker out of the box, and set it on my kitchen counter. I had no clue what I was supposed to do with it. I thumbed through the instructions and did a quick scan of the little recipe book that came with the cooker. It sounded simple enough. Throw a bunch of stuff in the pot and turn it on.
TWELVE
LULA ROLLED INTO the office five minutes after I did. Her
Gordon Krutch was the third man. He was also in his seventies, but without the benefits of gaydom his face looked like a road map of Newark: lots of intersecting streets, plus a bunch of potholes, and skin the color and texture of concrete.
Grandma caught Gordon’s eye and waved at him. Gordon waved back and blew Grandma a kiss.
“Isn’t he something?” Grandma said to me. “We’re going to the movies tomorrow. He still drives and everything. He’s a real catch. He’s kept himself in shape. He takes the fitness class for old people at the Senior Center.”
I suppose it’s relative, but Gordon didn’t look to me like he was in great shape. He was about fifty pounds overweight, and he broke into a sweat from the exertion of walking. Plus there was the near-death pallor.
“Ever since his wife died he’s been the hot ticket,” Grandma said.
“Has he dated any of the women who were murdered?”
“Not that I know about.”
I had a feeling the Bingo connection wasn’t going to lead to a suspect. There had to be something else the murdered women had in common.
Morelli’s ringtone sang out on my cellphone.
“I’ve only got a minute,” Morelli said. “Double homicide in the projects. Not sure when I’ll be done here.”
“Bingo!” Grandma yelled.
“Stephanie got Bingo!”
I looked over at my card, and I looked up at the screen. Bingo.
“What did I win?” I asked Grandma.
“One of them slow cookers.”
“No money?”
“No. It wasn’t a money game. It was a potluck game.”
“I won a slow cooker at Bingo,” I told Morelli.
“You’re at Bingo?”
“Yeah, and I won!”
Two hours later I carefully stepped out of the firehouse and looked around. No big black cars with gun turrets. No thugs with Tasers. No scary Italian granny with an assault rifle. Good deal.
I dropped Grandma off at my parents’ house and took my slow cooker home. I parked in the lot to my apartment building, and Ranger’s 911 Turbo slid in next to me. I hauled the massive slow cooker box out of my car and saw Ranger’s mouth twitch at the corners, suggesting the beginning of a smile.
“I won it,” I told him.
“The perfect prize.”
“Scoff all you want, but I might use it. I’ve been thinking about taking up cooking. I made dinner the other night.”
“How’d that go?” Ranger asked.
“I exploded the vegetables in the microwave, but other than that it went pretty good.”
“You never disappoint,” Ranger said, taking the box from me.
He carried the box into my apartment and set it on my kitchen counter. Rex came out of his soup can to take a look, decided the box wasn’t all that interesting, and went back into his soup can.
“I think the Bingo connection is dead in the water,” I saidto Ranger. “The women must have had something else in common.”
“Keep working at it. Do you need help with Sunucchi?”
“I might. He spends his nights with Rita Raguzzi. She has a house in Hamilton Township, and I think that’s the best place to grab him. It’s the only time Sunny isn’t surrounded by his posse.”
“This is shotgun Rita?”
“Yeah. It should be fun.”
“Good,” Ranger said. “I’m all about fun.”
“Since when?”
He pulled me into him and kissed me. There was some highly skilled groping and use of tongue, and on a fun scale of 1 to 10 it was an 11.
“Call me when you’re ready to do the takedown,” Ranger said.
I locked the door after him, took the slow cooker out of the box, and set it on my kitchen counter. I had no clue what I was supposed to do with it. I thumbed through the instructions and did a quick scan of the little recipe book that came with the cooker. It sounded simple enough. Throw a bunch of stuff in the pot and turn it on.
TWELVE
LULA ROLLED INTO the office five minutes after I did. Her
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