Hot Six by Janet Evanovich Page B

or pork roast. My grandfather wouldn't have had it any other way. He'd worked in a steel mill all his life. He had strong opinions, and he dwarfed the rooms of their row house. Truth is, the top of my grandmother's head comes to the tip of my chin, and my grandfather wasn't much taller. But then I guess stature doesn't have much to do with inches.
    Lately I've been wondering who my grandmother would have been if she hadn't married my grandfather. I wonder if she would have eaten her dessert first a lot sooner.
    I took the meatballs out of the oven and set them side by side on a plate. Sitting there together they looked like troll gonads.
    "Well, will you look at these big boys, " Grandma said. "Reminds me of your grandfather, rest his soul. "
    When we were done eating I took Bob for a walk. Street lights were on, and light poured from the front windows of the houses behind my apartment building. We walked several blocks in comfortable silence. It turns out that's one of the good things about a dog. They don't talk a lot, so you can go along, thinking your own thoughts, making lists.
    My list consisted of Catch Morris Munson, Worry about Ranger, and Wonder about Morelli. I didn't exactly know what to do about Morelli. My heart felt like it was in love. My head wasn't so sure. Not that it mattered, because Morelli didn't want to get married. So here I was with my biological clock ticking and nothing around me but indecision.
    "I hate this!" I said to Bob.
    Bob stopped and looked over his shoulder at me, like, What's the big deal back there? Well, what did Bob know. Someone had whacked off his doodles when he was a puppy. Bob was just left with some extra skin and a distant memory. Bob didn't have a mother waiting for grandchildren. Bob didn't have all this pressure!
    When I got back to the apartment Grandma was asleep in front of the television. I wrote a note saying I had to go out for a while, pinned the note to Grandma's sweater, and told Bob to behave himself and not eat any of the furniture. Rex was buried under a mound of shavings, sleeping off his piece of pie. All was well in the Stephanie Plum household.
    I drove directly to Hannibal's town house. It was eight o'clock, and the place looked like no one was home, but then it always looked like no one was home. I parked two streets over, got out of the car, and walked to the back of the house. No light shining from any of the windows. I climbed the tree and looked down into Hannibal's yard. Totally dark. I dropped out of the tree and retraced my steps on the bike path, thinking this was very spooky. Black trees and bushes. No moon overhead to light the way. Only the occasional streak of light spilling from a window.
    Wouldn't want to meet a bad guy out here. Not Munson. Not Hannibal Ramos. Maybe not even Ranger . . . Although he was bad in a very intriguing way.
    I moved the car to the end of Hannibal's block, where I had better visibility. I pushed the seat back, locked the doors, and watched and waited.

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    "Is Grandma gone?"
    "No. I'm working, and she's home with Bob. "
    "Bob?"
    "Brian Simon's dog. I'm baby-sitting him while Simon's on vacation. "
    "Simon's not on vacation. I saw him today. "
    "What?"
    "I can't believe you fell for that vacation scam, " Morelli said. "Simon's been trying to pawn that dog off ever since he got him. "
    "Why didn't you tell me?"
    "I didn't know he was gonna give you the dog. "
    I narrowed my eyes at the phone. "Are you laughing? Is that laughter I hear?"
    "No. I swear. "
    But it was laughter. The rat was laughing.
    "This is no laughing matter, " I said. "What am I going to do with a dog?"
    "I thought you always wanted a dog. "
    "Well, yeah . . . Someday. But not now! And the dog howls. He doesn't like being left alone. "
    "Where are you?" Morelli asked.
    "It's a secret. "
    "Christ, you aren't staking out Hannibal's house again, are you?"
    "Nope. I'm not doing that. "

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    "You're lying. You don't have a cake.