"Do you know what happens when you pissss on icing? It gets rrrruined. Makes it all drippy."

"How about the little bride and groom at the top of the cake," Grandma said. "Did you piss on them, too?"

Melvin shook his head. "I couldn't reach them. I only got the bottom tier." He put his head down on the table. "I can't believe I embarrassed myself like that."

"Maybe if you practice you could get the top tier next time," Grandma said.

"I'm never going to another wedding," Melvin said. "I wish I was dead. Maybe I should just kill myself."

Valerie came into the kitchen carrying a laundry basket. "What's up?"

"I pissed on the cake," Melvin said. "I was shit-faced." And then he passed out facedown in his sandwich.

"I can't take him in like this," I said.

"He can sleep it off on the couch," my mother said, putting the iron down. "Everybody take a body part and we'll drag him in there."

ZIGGY AND BENNY were in the parking lot when I got home.

"We heard you want to make a deal," Ziggy said.

"Yep. Do you have Mooner?"

"Not exactly."

"Then it's no deal."

"We went all through your apartment and it wasn't there," Ziggy said.

"That's because it's someplace else," I told him.

"Where?"

"I'm not telling until I see Mooner."

"We could hurt you real bad," Ziggy said. "We could make you talk."

"My future grandmother-in-law wouldn't like that."

"You know what I think?" Ziggy said. "I think you're fibbing about having it."

I shrugged and turned to go into the building. "When you find Mooner, let me know and we'll deal."

Ever since I've had this job people have been breaking into my apartment. I buy the best locks available and it doesn't matter. Everyone gets in. The scary part is that I'm starting to get used to it.

Not only did Ziggy and Benny leave everything as they found it . . . they improved on it. They did my dishes and wiped down my counter. The kitchen was nice and tidy.

The phone rang and it was Eddie DeChooch.

"I understand you've got it."

"Yes."

"Is it in good shape?"

"Yes."

"I'm sending someone over to get it."

"Hold on. Wait a minute. What about Mooner? The deal is that I'm willing to trade Mooner for it."

DeChooch made a derisive sound. "Mooner. I don't know why you even care about that loser. Mooner isn't part of the deal. I'll give you money."

"I don't want money."

"Everyone wants money. Okay, how about this? How about I kidnap you and torture you until you hand it over?"

"My future grandmother-in-law would put the eye on you."

"The old bat is a crackpot. I don't believe in that bunk."

DeChooch hung up.

I was getting a lot of fast action on the bait scheme, but I wasn't making any progress getting Mooner back. A big sad lump was sitting in the middle of my throat. I was scared. No one seemed to have Mooner to trade. I didn't want Mooner or Dougie to be dead. Even worse, I didn't want to be like Valerie, sitting at the table blubbering with her mouth open.

" Damn!" I yelled. " Damn, damn, damn!"

Rex backed out of his soup can and looked up at me, whiskers whirring. I broke off a corner of a strawberry Pop-Tart and handed it to Rex. He shoved the Pop-Tart into his cheek and returned to his can. A hamster of simple pleasures.

I called Morelli and asked him over for dinner. "Except you have to bring the dinner," I said.

"Fried chicken? Meatball sub? Chinese?" Morelli asked.

"Chinese."

I rushed into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved any legs so the stupid voice in my head wouldn't screw things up again, and washed my hair with the shampoo that smells like root beer. I rummaged through my lingerie drawer until I found my black lace thong underpants and matching bra. I covered the undies with my usual T-shirt and jeans and swiped on some mascara and lip gloss. If I was going to get kidnapped and tortured I was going to have some fun first.

Bob and Morelli bounded in just as I was pulling on socks.

"I've got egg rolls, vegetable stuff, shrimp stuff, pork stuff, rice stuff, and some stuff that I think was supposed to go to somebody else but found its way into my bag," Morelli said. "And I got beer."

We put everything on the coffee table and turned the television on. Morelli flipped Bob an egg roll. Bob caught it midair and ate it in one gulp.

"We've talked about it, and Bob has agreed to be my best man," Morelli said.

"So there's going to be a wedding?"

"I thought you bought a dress."

I scooped out some shrimp stuff. "It's on hold."

"What's the problem?"

"I don't want a big wedding. It feels dopey. But my grandmother and my mother keep dragging me into one. All of a sudden I've got this dress on. And then next thing we've got a hall reserved. It's like someone sucked my mind out of my head."

"Maybe we should just go get married."

"When?"

"Can't be tonight. The Rangers are playing. Tomorrow? Wednesday?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Are you going to eat that last egg roll?"

My heart stopped dead in my chest. When it started back up again it was skipping beats. Married. Shit ! I was excited, right? That's why I felt like I might throw up. It was the excitement. "Don't we need blood tests and licenses and stuff?"

Morelli turned his attention to my T-shirt. "Pretty."

"The shirt?"

He traced a line with his fingertip along the lace edge of my bra. "That, too." His hands slid under the cotton fabric and the shirt was suddenly over my head and discarded. "Maybe you should show me your stuff," he said. "Convince me you're worth marrying."

I raised a single eyebrow. "Maybe you're the one who should be doing the convincing."

Morelli slid the zipper on my jeans. "Cupcake, before the night's over you're going to be begging me to marry you."

I knew from past experience that this was true. Morelli knew how to make a girl wake up smiling. Tomorrow morning walking might be difficult, but smiling would be easy.

MORELLI'S PAGER WENT off at 5:30 A. M. Morelli looked at the readout and sighed. "Informer."

I squinted into the darkness as he moved around the room. "Do you have to go?"

"No. I just have to make a phone call."

He walked into the living room. There was a moment of silence. And then he reappeared in the bedroom doorway. "Did you get up in the middle of the night and put the food away?"

"No."

"There's no food on the coffee table."

Bob.

I dragged myself out of bed, shoved my arms into my robe, and shuffled out to see the carnage.

"I found a couple little wire handles," Morelli said. "Looks like Bob ate the food and the cartons."

Bob was pacing at the door. His stomach was distended, and he was drooling.

Perfect. "You make your phone call and I'll walk Bob," I told Morelli.

I ran back to the bedroom, pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, and rammed my feet into boots. I clipped the leash onto Bob and grabbed my car keys.

"Car keys?" Morelli asked.

"In case I need a doughnut."

Doughnut my foot. Bob was going to do a great big Chinese-food poop. And he was going to do it on Joyce's lawn. Maybe I could even get him to hurl.

We took the elevator because I didn't want Bob moving around any more than was necessary. We rushed to the car and roared out of the lot.

Bob had his nose pressed to the window. He was panting and belching. His stomach was swollen to bursting.

I had the gas pedal almost to the floor. "Hold on, big fella," I said. "We're almost there. Not long now."

I screeched to a stop in front of Joyce's house. I ran around to the passenger side, opened the door, and Bob flew out. He rocketed to Joyce's lawn, hunched over, and pooped what appeared to be twice his body weight. He paused for a second and horked up a mixture of cardboard box and shrimp chow mein.

"Good boy!" I whispered.

Bob gave himself a shake and bolted back to the car. I slammed the door after him, jumped in on my side, and we took off before the stench could catch up with us. Another job well done.

Morelli was at the coffeemaker when I came in. "No doughnuts?" he asked.

"I forgot."

"I've never known you to forget doughnuts."

"I had other things on my mind."

"Like marriage?"

"That, too."

Morelli poured out two mugs of coffee and handed one to me. "Ever notice how marriage seems a lot more urgent at night than it does in the morning?"

"Does that mean you no longer want to get married?"

Morelli leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. "You're not getting off the hook that easy."

"There are lots of things we've never talked about."

"Such as?"

"Children. Suppose we have children and it turns out we don't like then?"

"If we can like Bob, we can like anything," Morelli said.

Bob was in the living room licking lint off the carpet.

EDDIE DECHOOCH CALLED ten minutes after Morelli and Bob left for work.

"What's it gonna be?" he asked. "Do you want to make a deal?"

"I want Mooner."

"How many times do I have to tell you, I haven't got him. And I don't know where he is. Nobody I know has him, either. Maybe he got scared and ran away."

I didn't know what to say because it was a possibility.

"You're keeping it cold, right?" DeChooch said. "I need to get it in good shape. My ass is on the line for this."

"Yep. It's cold, all right. You're not going to believe what good shape it's in. Just find Mooner and you can see for yourself." And I hung up.

What the heck was he talking about?

I called Connie, but she wasn't in the office yet. I left a message for her to get back to me and I took a shower. While I was in the shower I summarized my life. I was after a depressed senior citizen who was making me look like a dunce. Two of my friends were missing without a trace. I looked like I'd just gone a round with George Foreman. I had a wedding gown I didn't want to wear and a hall I didn't want to use. Morelli wanted to marry me. And Ranger wanted to . . . Hell, I didn't want to think about what Ranger wanted to do to me. Oh yeah, and there was Melvin Baylor, who, for all I knew, was still on my parents' couch.

I got out of the shower, got dressed, put in minimum effort on my hair, and Connie called.

"Have you heard any more from Aunt Flo or Uncle Bingo?" I asked Connie. "I need to know what went wrong in Richmond. I need to know what everyone's looking for. It's something that needs to be kept cold. Pharmaceuticals, maybe."

"How do you know it needs to be kept cold?"

"DeChooch."

"You talked to DeChooch?"

"He calls me." Sometimes I can't believe my own life. I have an FTA who calls me. How weird is that?

"I'll see what I can find out," Connie said.

I called Grandma next.

"I need some information about Eddie DeChooch," I said. "I thought you might ask around."

"What do you want to know?"

"He had a problem in Richmond, and now he's looking for something. I want to know what he's looking for."

"Leave it to me!"

"Is Melvin Baylor still there?"

"Nope. He went home."

I said good-bye to Grandma, and there was a knock on my door. I opened the door a crack and looked out. It was Valerie. She was dressed in a tailored black suit jacket and slacks with a white starched shirt and a man's black-and-red striped tie. The Meg Ryan shag was plastered back behind her ears.

"New look," I said. "What's the occasion?"

"It's my first day as a lesbian."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious. I said to myself, why wait? I'm making a fresh start here. I decided I should just jump right in. I'm going to get a job. And I'm going to get a girlfriend. No reason to sit home sulking over a failed relationship."

"I didn't think you were serious the other night. Have you had any . . . um, experience as a lesbian?"

"No, but how hard can it be?"

"I don't know if I like this," I said. "I'm used to being the black sheep of the family. This could change my standing."

"Don't be silly," Valerie said. "No one will care that I'm a lesbian."

Valerie was in California way too long.

"Anyhoo," she said, "I've got a job interview. Do I look okay? I want to be honest about my new sexual orientation, but I don't want to be overly butch."

"You don't want the dykes-on-bikes look."

"Exactly. I want the lesbian-chic look."

Having had limited lesbian experience I wasn't sure what lesbian chic looked like. Mostly I knew television lesbians.

"I'm not certain about the shoes," she said. "Shoes are always so difficult."

She was wearing delicate black patent sandals with a little heel. Her toes were painted bright red.

"I guess it depends if you want men's shoes or women's shoes," I said. "Are you a girl lesbian or a boy lesbian?"

"There are two kinds of lesbians?"

"I don't know. Didn't you research this?"

"No. I just assumed lesbians were unisex."

If she was having trouble being a lesbian with her clothes on , I couldn't imagine what was going to happen when she took the clothes off .

"I'm applying for a job at the mall," Valerie said. "And then I have a second job interview downtown. I was wondering if I could swap cars with you. I want to make a good appearance."

"What car are you driving now?"

"Uncle Sandor's '53 Buick."

"Muscle car," I said. "Very lesbian. Much better than my CR-V."

"I never thought of that."

I felt a little guilty because the truth is I didn't know if a '53 Buick would be favored by lesbians. It was just that I really didn't want to swap. I hate the '53 Buick.

I waved good-bye and wished her luck as she sashayed down the hall. Rex was out of his can and looking at me. Either he was thinking I was very clever, or else he was thinking I was a rotten sister. Hard to tell with hamsters. That's why they make such good pets.

I slung my black leather bag over my shoulder, grabbed my denim jacket, and locked up. Time to check back on Melvin Baylor. I felt a twinge of nervousness. Eddie DeChooch was worrisome. I didn't like the way he felt comfortable shooting at people on a moment's notice. And now that I was among the threatened I liked it even less.

I crept down the stairs and scurried through the lobby. I looked beyond the glass doors, into the lot. No DeChooch anywhere.

Mr. Morganstern stepped out of the elevator.

"Hello, cutie," Mr. Morganstern said. "Whoa. Looks like you ran into a doorknob."

"All part of the job," I said to Mr. Morganstern.

Mr. Morganstern was very old. Possibly two hundred.

"I saw your young friend leaving yesterday. He might be a little funny in the head, but he travels in style. You've got to like a man who travels in style," Mr. Morganstern said.

"What young friend?"

"The Mooner person. The one who wears the Superman suit and has long brown hair."

My heart skipped a beat. It never occurred to me that any of my neighbors would have information about Mooner. "When did you see him? What time?"

"It was early in the morning. The bakery down the street opens at six and I walked there and back, so I guess I saw your friend around seven o'clock. He came out of the door just as I was going in. He was with a lady and they both got into a big black limousine. I never rode in a limousine. It must be something."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He said . . . dude ."

"Did he look okay? Did he look worried?"

"Nope. He looked same as always. You know, like nobody's home."

"What did the woman look like?"

"Nice-looking woman. Short, sort of brown hair. Young."

"How young?"

"About sixty, maybe."

"I don't suppose the limo had anything written on it? Like the name of the limo company?"

"Not that I recall. It was just a big black limo."

I turned on my heel, went back upstairs, and started calling limo companies. It took me a half hour to go through all the listings in the phone book. Only two companies made pickups that early yesterday morning. Both pickups were Town Cars and they were both making airport runs. Neither was booked by or picked up a woman.

Dead end again.

I drove over to Melvin's apartment and knocked on his door.

Melvin answered with a bag of frozen corn on his head. "I'm dying," he said. "My head's exploding. My eyes are on fire."

He looked awful. Worse than yesterday and that was going some. "I'll be back later," I told him. "Don't do any more drinking, okay?"

Five minutes later I was at the office. "Hey," Lula said. "Look at this. Your eyes are sort of black and green today. That's a good sign."

"Has Joyce been in yet?"

"She came in about fifteen minutes ago," Connie said. "She was nuts, raving about shrimp chow mein."

"She was gonzo," Lula said. "Made no sense at all. Never seen her so mad. I don't suppose you know anything about the shrimp?"

"Nope. Not me."

"How's Bob? He know anything about the chow mein?"

"Bob's fine. He had a stomach problem earlier this morning, but he's okay now."

Connie and Lula did a high five.

"I knew it!" Lula said.

"I'm driving around checking out a few houses," I said. "I was wondering if anyone wanted to go with me."

"Uh-oh," Lula said. "The only time you want company is when you're worried someone's out to get you."

"Eddie DeChooch might sort of be looking for me." Probably other people were after me, too, but Eddie DeChooch seemed the craziest and most likely to shoot me. Although the old lady with the scary eyes was starting to run a close second.

"I guess we can handle Eddie DeChooch," Lula said, getting her handbag out of the bottom file drawer. "He's just a little bitty depressed old man."

With a gun.

Lula and I dropped in on Mooner's roommates first.

"Is Mooner here?" I asked.

"Nope. Haven't seen him. He might be at Dougie's. He's there a lot."

We went to Dougie's house next. I had taken Dougie's keys when Mooner got shot and I'd never given them back. I opened the front door and Lula and I did a walk-through. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I went back to the kitchen and looked in the freezer and refrigerator.

"What's that about?" Lula asked.

"Just checking."

After Dougie's house we drove to Eddie DeChooch's house. The crime-scene tape was gone, and the DeChooch half looked dark and unlived in.

I parked the car and Lula and I did a walk-through in DeChooch's house. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. Just for the hell of it I looked in the freezer and refrigerator. There was a pot roast in the freezer.

"I could see that pot roast turns you on," Lula said.

"Dougie had a pot roast stolen from his freezer."

"Uh-huh."

"This could be it. This could be the stolen pot roast."

"Let me get this straight. You think Eddie DeChooch broke into Dougie's house and stole a pot roast."

Now that I heard it said out loud it sounded kind of dumb. "It could happen," I said.

We drove by the social club and the church, cruised through Mary Maggie's parking garage, cut over to Ace Payers, and ended with Ronald DeChooch's house in north Trenton. In the course of our travels we covered most of Trenton and all of the Burg.

"That's it for me," Lula said. "I need fried chicken. I want some of that Cluck in a Bucket extra spicy, extra greasy. And I want biscuits and cole slaw and one of them shakes that are so thick you gotta suck your guts out to get it up a straw."

Cluck in a Bucket is just a couple blocks from the office. It has a big revolving chicken impaled on a pole that sprouts out of the macadam parking lot, and it has excellent fastfood fried chicken.

Lula and I got a bucket and took it to a table.

"So let me get this straight," Lula said. "Eddie DeChooch goes to Richmond and picks up some cigarettes. While DeChooch is in Richmond, Louie D buys the farm and something gets screwed up. We don't know what."

I selected a piece of chicken and nodded.

"Choochy comes back to Trenton with the cigarettes, drops some off with Dougie, and then gets himself arrested trying to take the rest of the cigarettes to New York."

I nodded some more.

"Next thing Loretta Ricci is dead and Chooch takes off on us."

"Yep. And then Dougie goes missing. Benny and Ziggy are looking for Chooch. Chooch is looking for something . Again, we don't know what. And somebody steals Dougie's pot roast."

"And now Mooner's missing, too," Lula said. "Chooch thought Mooner had the something . You told Chooch you had the something . And Chooch offered you money but no Mooner."

"Yeah."

"That's the dumbest load of shit I ever heard," Lula said, biting into a chicken thigh. She stopped talking and chewing and opened her eyes wide. "Urg," she said. Then she started waving her arms and clutching her throat.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

More throat clutching.

"Whack her on the back," someone offered from another table.

"That doesn't work," someone else said. "You're supposed to do that Heimlich thing."

I ran around to Lula and tried to wrap my arms around her to do the Heimlich, but my arms wouldn't go all the way around.

A big guy walked over from the counter, got Lula in a bear hug from behind, and squeezed.

" Ptoooh," Lula said. And a piece of chicken flew out of her mouth and hit a kid two tables over in the head.

"You've got to lose some weight," I said to Lula.

"It's just I've got big bones," Lula said.

Everything quieted down, and Lula sucked on her milk shake.

"I had an idea while I was dying," Lula said. "It's clear what you've got to do next. Tell Chooch you've decided to make the deal for money. Then we snatch him when he comes to pick up the thing . And after we got him we make him talk."

"We haven't had much luck snatching him so far."

"Yeah, but what have you got to lose here? He's gonna be picking up nothing."

True.

"You should call up Mary Maggie the mud wrestler and tell her we'll deal," Lula said.

I found my cell phone and dialed Mary Maggie, but there was no answer. I left my name and number and asked her to return my call.

I was putting my cell phone back in my shoulder bag when Joyce stormed in.

"I saw your car in the lot," Joyce said. "You expect to find DeChooch in here eating chicken?"

"He just left," Lula said. "We could have brought him in, but we thought it was too easy. We like a challenge."

"You two wouldn't know what to do with a challenge," Joyce said. "You're losers. Fatso and Ditzo. You two are pathetic."

"Yeah, well we're not so pathetic we got a chow mein problem," Lula said.

That caught Joyce short for a moment, not sure if Lula was in on the dastardly deed or merely provoking her.

Joyce's pager chirped. Joyce checked the readout and her lips curled back in a smile. "I have to go. I have a lead on DeChooch. It's a shame you two bimbos don't have anything better to do than sit here filling your faces. But then from the looks of you I guess that's what you do best."

"Yeah, and from the looks of you I guess what you do best is fetch sticks and howl at the moon," Lula said.

"Fuck you," Joyce said and flounced off to her car.

"Hunh," Lula said. "I expected something more original than that. Think Joyce must be off her form today."

"Know what we should do?" I said. "We should follow her."

Lula was already gathering the food together. "You read my mind," Lula said.

The moment Joyce left the lot we were out the door and into the CR-V. Lula had the bucket of chicken and biscuits on her lap, we shoved the shakes into the drink holders, and took off.

"I bet she's a big liar," Lula said. "I bet there's no lead. She's probably going to the mall."

I stayed a couple cars back so she wouldn't make me, and Lula and I kept our eyes glued to the back bumper of Joyce's SUV. There were two heads visible through Joyce's rear window. She had someone riding shotgun with her.

"She's not going to the mall," I said. "She's going in the opposite direction. Looks like she's heading for center city."

Ten minutes later I had a bad feeling about Joyce's destination.

"I know where she's going," I said to Lula. "She's going to talk to Mary Maggie Mason. Someone told her about the white Cadillac."

I followed Joyce into the parking garage, keeping well behind. I parked two lanes over from her and Lula and I sat tight and watched.

"Uh-oh," Lula said, "there she goes. Her and her flunky. They're going up to talk to Mary Maggie."

Damn. I know Joyce too well. I've seen her work. She would go in like gangbusters, guns drawn, and search room-to-room, claiming just cause. It's the sort of behavior that gives bounty hunting a bad reputation. And even worse, it sometimes gets results. If Eddie DeChooch is hiding under Mary Maggie's bed, Joyce will find him.

I didn't recognize her partner from this distance. They were both dressed in black T-shirts and black cargo pants with BOND ENFORCEMENT printed in bright yellow on the back of their shirts.

"Boy," Lula said, "they got costumes. How come we don't have costumes?"

"Because we don't want to look like a couple goons?"

"Yep. That's the answer I was thinking of."

I jumped out of the car and yelled at Joyce. "Hey Joyce!" I said. "Wait a minute. I want to talk to you."

Joyce whirled around in surprise. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me, and she said something to her partner. The conversation didn't carry to me. Joyce punched the up button. The elevator doors opened and Joyce and her partner disappeared.

Lula and I got to the elevator seconds after the doors closed. We pressed the button and waited a few minutes.

"Know what I think?" Lula said. "I don't think this elevator's going to show up. I think Joyce is holding on to it."

We started up the stairs, fast at first, and then slower.

"Something wrong with my legs," Lula said at the fifth floor. "I got rubber legs. They don't want to work anymore."

"Keep going."

"Easy for you to say. You're dragging that boney-ass body of yours up these stairs. Look what I'm hauling."

It wasn't easy for me to say at all. I was sweating and I could barely breathe. "We've got to get into shape," I said to Lula. "We should go to a gym or something."

"I'd sooner set myself on fire."

That about summed it up for me, too.

We staggered out of the stairwell into the hall at the seventh floor. Mary Maggie's door was open and Mary Maggie and Joyce were shouting at each other.

"If you don't get out of here this second I'm calling the police," Mary Maggie yelled.

"I am the police," Joyce yelled back.

"Oh yeah? Where's your badge?"

"It's here on this chain on my neck."

"That's a fake badge. You bought that badge from a catalogue. I'm telling on you. I'm calling the police and telling them you're impersonating a cop."

"I'm not impersonating anybody," Joyce said. "I never said I was the Trenton police. I happen to be the bond police."

"You happen to be the dodo police," Lula said, wheezing.

Now that I was closer I recognized Joyce's partner. It was Janice Molnari. I went to school with Janice. Janice was an okay person. I couldn't help wondering what she was doing working for Joyce.

"Stephanie," Janice said. "Long time no see."

"Not since Loretta Beeber's shower."

"How's it going?" Janice asked.

"Pretty good. How's it with you?"

"Pretty good. My kids are all in school now, so I thought I'd try working part-time."

"How long have you been with Joyce?"

"About two hours," Janice said. "This is my first job."

Joyce had a sidearm strapped to her thigh, and she had her hand on the sidearm. "So what are you doing here, Plum? Following me around so you can see how it's done?"

"That's it," Mary Maggie said. "I want all of you out! Now !"

Joyce shoved Lula toward the door. "You heard her. Move it."

"Hey," Lula said, giving Joyce a shot in the shoulder. "Who you telling to move it?"

"I'm telling you to move it, you big tub of lard," Joyce said.

"Better to be a tub of lard than chow mein barf and dog doody," Lula said.

Joyce gave a gasp. "How do you know? I didn't tell you all that." Her eyes opened wide. "It's you! You're the one!" Besides the gun, Joyce was wearing a utility belt complete with cuffs, defense spray, stun gun, and baton. She pulled the stun gun out of the belt and flipped it on. "I'm going to make you pay," Joyce said. "I'm going to fry you. I'm going to stick this to you until my battery is dead and you're nothing but a pool of liquefied fat slime."

Lula looked down at her hands. No purse in either of them. We left our purses in the car. She felt her pockets. No weapons there, either. "Uh-oh," Lula said.

Joyce lunged at her and Lula shrieked and whipped around and ran down the hall to the stairs. Joyce took off after her. And we all ran after Lula and Joyce. Me first, then Mary Maggie, then Janice. Lula might not be much going up the stairs, but once she got momentum going down she was uncatchable. Lula was a freight train in motion.

Lula got to the garage level and crashed through the door. She was halfway to the car when Joyce caught her and straight-armed her with the stun gun. Lula stopped short, swayed in place for a second, and went down like a sack of wet cement. Joyce reached out to give Lula another buzz, and I tackled Joyce from behind. The stun gun flew out of her hand, and we fell to the floor. And just then, Eddie DeChooch pulled into the underground garage in Mary Maggie's white Cadillac.

Janice saw him first. "Hey, is that the old guy in the white Cadillac?" she asked.

Joyce and I picked up our heads and looked. DeChooch was inching along, looking for a parking space.

"Get out!" Mary Maggie yelled to DeChooch. "Get out of the garage!"

Joyce scrambled to her feet and took off running toward DeChooch. "Get him!" Joyce yelled to Janice. "Don't let him get away."

"Get him?" Janice asked, standing beside Lula. "What is she, crazy? How am I supposed to get him?"

"I don't want anything to happen to my car," Mary Maggie shouted to Joyce and me. "That was my Uncle Ted's car."

Lula was on all fours and drooling. "What?" she said. "Who?"

Janice and I got Lula to her feet. Mary Maggie was still yelling to DeChooch and DeChooch was still not seeing her.

I left Lula with Janice and ran for my Honda. I cranked the engine over and wheeled around behind DeChooch. I don't know how I expected to catch him, but it seemed like the thing to do.

Joyce jumped out in front of DeChooch, gun drawn, and shouted for him to stop. DeChooch stomped on the gas and plowed ahead. Joyce stumbled to safety and fired off a shot, missing DeChooch but hitting a back window.

DeChooch left-turned down a lane of parked cars. I followed after him, taking corners on two wheels as he raced in blind panic. We were doing a loop, DeChooch not able to find the exit.

Mary Maggie was still yelling. And Lula was on her feet waving her arms.

"Wait for me!" Lula yelled, looking like she wanted to run, not sure of the direction.

I did a lap past Lula, and she jumped into the car. The back door was wrenched open, and Janice catapulted herself into the backseat.

Joyce had gone back for her car and had positioned it partially across the exit. She had the driver door open and stood behind the open door with her gun steadied.

DeChooch finally found the right lane and headed for the exit. He drove straight at Joyce. She fired off a shot that missed entirely and then threw herself to the side as DeChooch roared past, ripping Joyce's car door off its hinges, the impact rocketing the door into the air.

I zipped out the exit, behind DeChooch. The Cadillac's right front quarter panel had suffered some damage, but clearly it wasn't anything that bothered Choochy. He turned onto Spring Street with me close on his bumper. He followed Spring to Broad and suddenly we were in stopped traffic.

"We got him," Lula yelled. "Everybody out of the car!"

Lula and Janice and I bolted from the car and ran to apprehend DeChooch. DeChooch threw the Cadillac into reverse and rammed the CR-V, bouncing it back several feet into the car behind. He pulled the wheel around and angled himself out, grazing the bumper on the car in front of him.

Lula was yelling at him the whole time. "We got the thing ," she yelled. "And we want the money. We decided we want the money!"

DeChooch didn't look like he was hearing anything. He did a U-turn and took off, leaving us in his dust.

Lula and Janice and I watched him hurtle down the street and then we turned our attention to the CR-V. It was crumpled up like an accordion.

"Now this really makes me mad," Lula said. "He made my shake get spilled, and I paid good money for that shake."

"LET ME GET this straight," Vinnie said. "You're telling me that DeChooch smashed up your car and broke Barnhardt's leg."

"Actually it was the car door that broke Joyce's leg," I said. "When it flew off her car it kind of did a flip in the air and came down on her leg."

"We wouldn't have known about her except the ambulance had to squeeze past us on the way to the hospital. They were just getting ready to tow our car away when the ambulance came along, and there was Joyce all trussed up inside," Lula said.

"So where is DeChooch now?" Vinnie wanted to know.

"We don't exactly got the answer to that question," Lula said. "And being that we haven't got transportation we have no way of finding out."

"What about your car?" Vinnie asked Lula.

"In the shop. I'm having it detailed, and then they're putting some custom paint on it. I won't get it back until next week."

He turned to me. "What about the Buick? You always drive the Buick when you have car problems."

"My sister's driving the Buick."

"I GOT A motorcycle out back I can let you have," Vinnie said. "I just took it in on a bond. The guy was short money, so he gave me the bike. I already got my garage filled with crap. I can't fit a bike in there."

People cleaned out their houses to buy their bonds. Vinnie took in stereos, televisions, mink coats, computer systems, and gym equipment. He bonded out Madam Zaretsky once and took her whip and her trained dog.

Ordinarily I'd jump at the chance to have a bike. I got my license a couple years ago when I was dating a guy who owned a cycle shop. I've looked at bikes from time to time but never had the money to buy one. The problem now is that a bike isn't the ideal vehicle for a bounty hunter.

"I don't want a bike," I said. "What am I going to do with a bike? I can't bring an FTA in on a bike."

"Yeah, and what about me?" Lula said. "How're you gonna fit a full-figured woman like me on a bike? And what about my hair? I'll have to put one of them helmets on, and it'll ruin my hair."

"Take it or leave it," Vinnie said.

I did a big sigh and rolled my eyes. "This bike come with helmets?"

"They're in the back room."

Lula and I shuffled out to see the bike.

"This is gonna be an embarrassment," Lula said, opening the back door. "This is gonna be . . . hold on, look at this. Holy crap. This isn't just a dumb-ass bike. This is a hog ."

It was a Harley-Davidson FXDL Dyna Low Rider. It was black with custom green flames and custom pipes. Lula was right. It wasn't just a dumb-ass bike. It was a wet dream.

"You know how to drive one of these?" Lula asked.

I smiled at her. "Oh yeah," I said. " Oh yeah."

Lula and I strapped on the helmets and straddled the bike. I put the key in the ignition, kicked it over, and the Harley rumbled under me. "Houston, we have liftoff," I said. And then I had a small orgasm.

I rode up and down the alley behind Vinnie's office a couple times, getting the feel of the bike, and then I headed for Mary Maggie's condo building. I wanted to take another crack at talking to Mary Maggie.

"Don't look like she's here," Lula said, after the first turn around the parking garage. "I don't see her Porsche."

I wasn't surprised. She was probably off somewhere inspecting the damage on the Cadillac.

"She's wrestling tonight," I said to Lula. "We can talk to her then."

I CHECKED OUT the cars in the lot to my apartment building when I pulled in. No white Cadillac, no black limo, no Ziggy and Benny car, no MMM-YUM Porsche, no megabucks-and-probably-stolen Ranger car. Only Joe's truck.

Joe was slouched in front of the television with a beer in his hand when I walked in.

"I heard you smashed up your car," he said.

"Yeah, but I'm okay."

"I heard that, too."

"DeChooch is whacko. He shoots at people. He deliberately runs people down. What's the deal with him? That's not normal behavior . . . even for an old mob guy. I mean, I know he's depressed, but yeesh ." I went into the kitchen and gave Rex a piece of biscuit I'd saved from lunch.

Morelli followed me into the kitchen. "How'd you get home?"

"Vinnie loaned me a bike."

"A bike? What kind of bike?"

"A Harley. A Dyna Low Rider."

His eyes and his mouth creased in a smile. "You're riding around on a hog?"

"Yes. And I had a sexual experience on it already."

"All by yourself?"

"Yes."

Morelli gave a bark of laughter and moved toward me, pressing me against the counter, his hands circling my rib cage, his mouth brushing my ear, my neck. "Bet I can improve on it."

THE SUN HAD gone down and it was dark in my bedroom. Morelli was asleep beside me. Even in sleep Morelli radiated contained energy. His body was lean and hard. His mouth was soft and sensual. The planes of his face had become more angular with age. His eyes more wary. He'd seen a lot as a cop. Too much, maybe.

I glanced over at the clock. Eight. Eight ! Yikes. I must have been asleep, too. One minute we were making love and the next thing it was eight o'clock!

I shook Morelli awake.

"It's eight o'clock!" I said.

"Uh-huh."

"Bob! Where's Bob?"

Morelli bolted out of bed. "Shit! I came here right from work. Bob hasn't had supper!"

The unspoken thought was that Bob would have eaten everything by now . . . the couch, the television, the baseboards.

"Get your clothes on," Morelli said. "We'll feed Bob and go out for pizza. And then you can spend the night."

"I can't. I have to work tonight. Lula and I didn't get to talk to Mary Maggie today, so I'm going to The Snake Pit. She's wrestling at ten."

"I don't have time to argue," Morelli said. "Bob's probably eaten through a wall by now. Come over when you're done at the Pit." He grabbed me and kissed me and ran down the hall.

"Okay," I said, but Morelli was already gone.

I wasn't sure what one wore to the Pit, but slut hair seemed like a good idea, so I did the hot roller and teasing thing. This increased my height from five foot seven inches to five foot ten. I tarted myself up with a lot of makeup, added a short black spandex skirt and four-inch heels, and I felt very kick-ass. I grabbed my leather jacket and took the car keys from the kitchen counter. Hold on. These weren't car keys. These were motorcycle keys. Shit! I'd never get my hair in the helmet.

Don't panic, I told myself. Just think about this a minute. Where can you get a car? Valerie. Valerie has the Buick. I'll call her up and tell her I'm going out to a place where there are half-naked women. I mean, that's what lesbians want to see, right?

Ten minutes later, Valerie picked me up in the lot. She still had her hair slicked back behind her ears and was devoid of makeup with the exception of blood-red lipstick. She was wearing men's black wing tips, a charcoal pinstripe suit with slacks, and a white shirt that was open at the neck. I resisted the urge to check to see if there was chest hair sprouting from the open neck.

"How'd it go today?" I asked her.

"I got new shoes! Look at them. Aren't they excellent? I think they're perfect lesbian shoes."

You have to give Valerie credit. She never did anything halfway. "I mean about the job."

"The job didn't work out. I guess that's to be expected. If at first you don't succeed . . ." She put her weight behind the wheel and managed to get the Buick to take a corner. "I got the girls enrolled in school, though. I guess that's something positive."

Lula was waiting on the curb when we got to her house.

"This is my sister, Valerie," I told Lula. "She's coming along because she has the car."

"Looks like she shops in the men's department."

"She's taking it for a test drive."

"Hey, whatever," Lula said.

The parking lot to The Snake Pit was jammed, so we parked a half mile down on the street. By the time we got to the door my feet were killing me, and I was thinking there were advantages to being a lesbian. Valerie's shoes looked nice and comfy.

We got a table in the back and ordered drinks.

"How are we going to get to talk to Mary Maggie?" Lula wanted to know. "We can't hardly see from here."

"I checked this place out. There are only two doors, so after Mary Maggie does the mud thing we'll each take a door and catch her leaving."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Lula said, belting back her drink and ordering another.

There were a few women with dates, but mostly the room was filled with men, looking serious, hoping a G-string would get ripped off in the mud, which I assume is the equivalent to sacking the quarterback.

Valerie's eyes were wide. Hard to tell if they were reflecting excitement or hysteria.

"Are you sure I'll meet lesbians here?" she shouted above the noise.

Lula and I looked around. We didn't see any lesbians. At least not any who looked like Valerie.

"You never know when lesbians are gonna show up," Lula said. "Probably you should have another drink. You look kind of pale."

I sent the note to Mary Maggie on the next drink order. I told her my table and told her I had a message I wanted passed on to Eddie DeChooch.

A half hour later I still hadn't heard from Mary Maggie. Lula had put away four Cosmopolitans and was looking stone-cold sober, and Valerie had chugged two glasses of Chablis and was looking very happy.

Women were whaling away at each other in the pit. Once in a while a hapless drunken male would get pulled into the ooze and flail around until he swallowed a gallon of muck and was expelled by the bouncer. There was a lot of hair pulling and bitch slapping and sliding around. I guess mud is slippery. So far no one got their G-string removed, but there was a bunch of mud-slicked bare breasts that were bloated to the bursting point with implants. All in all, the whole thing didn't look too appealing, and I was happy I had a job where people shot at me. Better than wallowing in the mud half naked.

Mary Maggie's match was announced, and Mary Maggie came out dressed in a silver bikini. I was beginning to see a theme here. Silver Porsche, silver bikini. There was a lot of cheering. Mary Maggie is famous. Then the other woman came out. Her name was Animal, and just between you and me I didn't think it looked good for Mary Maggie. Animal's eyes were glowing red and it was hard to tell from the distance, but I'm pretty sure she had snakes in her hair.

The announcer rang the bell and the two women circled and then lunged. They did this with little success for a while and then Mary Maggie slipped and Animal pounced on her.

This brought the entire room to standing, including Lula and Valerie and me. We were all yelling, wanting Mary Maggie to disembowel Animal. Of course Mary Maggie had too much class to disembowel Animal, so they thrashed in the mud for a few minutes and then started taunting the audience, wanting their own unfortunate drunken male.

"You," Mary Maggie said, pointing in my direction.

I looked around, hoping to find a sex-crazed guy waving a twenty standing just behind me.

Mary Maggie took the microphone. "We have a special guest here tonight. We have The Bounty Hunter. Also known as The Cadillac Wrecker. Also known as The Harasser."

Oh boy.

"You want to talk to me, Bounty Hunter?" Mary Maggie asked. "Step right up."

"Maybe later," I said, thinking Mary Maggie's stage personality wasn't at all like the bookworm I'd met earlier. "We'll talk after the show," I told her. "Don't want to take up your valuable time while you're onstage."

And then suddenly I was being lifted into the air by two very large men. I was being carried, still seated in my chair, six feet off the floor, to the ring.

"Help!" I yelped. " Help!"

I was held high above the ring. Mary Maggie smiled. And Animal growled and rotated her head. And then the chair tipped and I did a free fall into the mud.

Animal pulled me to my feet by my hair. "Relax," she said. "This will be painless."

Then she tore my shirt off. Good thing I was wearing my good lace bra from Victoria's Secret.

In the next instant, we all went down in a screaming pack. Mary Maggie Mason, Animal, and me. And then Lula waded in.

"Hey," Lula said. "We just come here to talk and you're ruining my friend's skirt. We're gonna give you a drycleaning bill."

"Oh yeah? Well, bill this," Animal said and she yanked Lula's foot out from under her, sending Lula to her ass in the mud.

"Now you made me mad," Lula said. "I was trying to explain things to you, but now you made me mad."

I'd managed to pull myself to my feet while Lula was sparring with Animal. I was wiping the mud from my eves when Mary Maggie Mason took a flying leap at me and pinned me facedown in the mud again. "Help," I yelled. " Help!"

"Stop picking on my friend," Lula said. And she grabbed Mary Maggie by the hair and flung her out of the ring like a rag doll. Crash ! Direct hit on a table at ringside.

Two moro women wrestlers ran out from the wings and jumped in the ring. Lula tossed one out and sat on the other. Animal jumped off the ropes at Lula, Lula let out a bloodcurdling shriek and went down in the mud with Animal.

Mary Maggie was back in the ring. The other wrestler was back in the ring. And some drunken guy climbed in. Now there were seven of us in the ring, rolling around, locked together. I was grabbing for anything I could find, trying to keep from smothering in the mud, and somehow I got a grip on Animal's G-string. And then everyone was hooting and cheering and the bouncers jumped into the ring and separated us.

"Hey," Lula said, still swinging, "I lost my shoe. Somebody better find my shoe or I'm never coming here again."

The stage manager had Lula by the arm. "Don't worry. We'll take care of it. Step this way. Right through the door."

And before we realized what was happening, we were out on the street. Lula with only one shoe and me with no shirt. The door opened again, and Valerie got tossed out along with our coats and purses.

"There was something wrong with that Animal person," Valerie said. "When you ripped her pants off she was bald down there!"

VALERIE DROPPED ME off at Morelli's house and waved goodbye.

Morelli opened the door and said the obvious. "You're covered with mud."

"It didn't work out exactly as planned."

"I like the no-shirt look. I could get used to it."

I stripped in the hall and Morelli took my clothes directly to the washer. I was still standing there when he returned. I was wearing the four-inch heels and mud and nothing more.

"I'd like to take a shower," I told him, "but if you'd rather I didn't track mud up the stairs you can just throw a bucket of water at me in the backyard."

"I know this is probably sick," Morelli said, "but I'm getting hard."

MORELLI LIVES IN a row house on Slater just a short distance from the Burg. He'd inherited the house from his Aunt Rose and he'd made it a home. Go figure that. The world is filled with mysteries. His house felt a lot like my parents' house, narrow and spare in luxuries, but filled with comforting smells and memories. In Morelli's case the smells were reheated pizza, dog, and fresh paint. Morelli was little by little working on window trim.

We were at his kitchen table . . . me, Morelli, and Bob. Morelli was eating a slice of raisin-cinnamon toast and drinking coffee. And Bob and I ate everything else in the refrigerator. Nothing like a big breakfast after a night of mud wrestling.

I was wearing one of Morelli's T-shirts, a borrowed pair of sweats, and I was barefoot since my shoes were still wet inside and out and would probably get tossed in the trash.

Morelli was dressed for work in his plainclothes cop clothes.

"I don't get it," I said to Morelli. "This guy is riding around in a white Cadillac and the police aren't picking him up. Why is that?"

"Probably he's not riding around a lot. He's been spotted a couple times, but not by anyone who's been in a position to go after him. Once by Mickey Greene on bicycle patrol. Once by a blue-and-white stuck in traffic. And he's not a priority. It isn't like there's someone assigned full-time to finding him."

"He's a murderer. That's not a priority?"

"He's not exactly wanted for murder. Loretta Ricci died of a heart attack. At this point he's only wanted for questioning."

"I think he stole a pot roast from Dougie's freezer."

"Well, that ups the ante. That'll put him on the priority list for sure."

"Don't you think it's weird that he'd steal a pot roast?"

"When you've been a cop for as long as I have you don't think anything is weird."

Morelli finished his coffee, rinsed his cup, and put it in the dishwasher. "I have to go. Are you going to stay here?"

"No. I need a ride back to my apartment. I've got things to do and people to see." And I could use a pair of shoes.

Morelli dropped me at the door to my building. I walked in barefoot, wearing Morelli's clothes, carrying mine. Mr. Morganstern was in the lobby.

"Must have been some night," he said. "I'll give you ten dollars if you'll tell me the details."

"No way. You're too young."

"How about twenty? Only thing is you'll have to wait until the first of the month when I get my Social Security check."

Ten minutes later, I was dressed and out the door. I wanted to get to Melvin Baylor before he left for work. In honor of the Harley, I'd dressed in boots, jeans, T-shirt, and my Schotts leather jacket. I roared out of the parking lot and caught Melvin attempting to unlock his car. The lock had rusted and Melvin was having a hard time turning the key. Why he bothered locking it at all was beyond me. No one would want to steal this car. He was dressed in suit and tie and, with the exception of dark circles under his eyes, he looked much better.

"I hate to bother you," I said, "but you need to go to court and reschedule your date."

"What about work? I'm supposed to go to work."

Melvin Baylor was a very nice schnook. How he ever got the nerve to take a leak on the cake was a mystery.

"You'll have to go in late. I'll call Vinnie and have him meet us at the municipal building and hopefully it won't take long."

"I can't get my car open."

"Then you're in for a treat, because you get to ride on my bike."

"I hate this car," Melvin said. He stepped back and kicked the car in the door and a big piece of rusted metal fell off. He grabbed the side mirror and ripped it off and threw it onto the ground. "Fucking car," he said, kicking the mirror across the street.

"That's good," I said. "But maybe we should go now."

"I'm not done," Melvin said, trying his key on the trunk, having no luck there, either. " Fuck!" he yelled. He climbed up the bumper onto the trunk and jumped up arid down. He climbed onto the roof and did more jumping.

"Melvin," I said, "you're a little out of control here."

"I hate my life. I hate my car. I hate this suit." he half fell, half jumped off the car and tried the trunk again. This time he got it open. He rummaged around in the trunk and came up with a baseball bat. "Ah-ha!" he said.

Oh boy.

Melvin hauled off and whacked the car with the bat. He whacked it again and again, working up a sweat. He whacked a side window, sending glass flying. He stepped back and looked at his hand. It had a big gash in it. Blood was everywhere.

Shit. I got off the bike and sat Melvin down on the curb. Every housewife on the block was standing on the street, watching the show. "I need a towel here," I said. Then I called Valerie and told her to bring the Buick to Melvin's house.

Valerie arrived a couple minutes later. Melvin had his hand wrapped in a towel, but his suit and shoes were spattered with blood. Valerie got out of the car, took one look at Melvin, and keeled over. Crash. Onto the Seligs' lawn. I left Valerie on the lawn and drove Melvin to the emergency room. I got him settled in and drove back to the Seligs'. I didn't have time to sit and wait for Melvin to get stitched up. Unless he went into shock from blood loss, he'd probably be there for hours before seeing a doctor.

Valerie was standing on the curb, looking confused.

"I didn't know what to do," she said. "I don't know how to drive a motorcycle."

"No problem. You can have the Buick back."

"What happened to Melvin?"

"Temper tantrum. He'll be fine."

A DROP-IN AT the office was next on my list. I thought I'd dressed for the day, but Lula made me look like an amateur. She was wearing boots from the Harley store, leather pants, leather vest, keys on a chain that clipped to her belt. And draped over her chair was a leather jacket with fringe running the length of the arm and a Harley emblem stitched across the back.

"Just in case we gotta go out on the bike," she said.

Fearsome leather-clad black biker chick causes havoc on highways. Traffic tied up for miles due to rubbernecking motorists.

"You'd better sit down so I can tell you about DeChooch," Connie said to me.

I looked to Lula. "Do you know about DeChooch?"

Lula's face broke into a smile. "Yeah, Connie told me when I came in this morning. And she's right, you better sit down."

"Only people in the family know about this," Connie said. "It's been kept real quiet so you have to keep it to yourself."

"What family are we talking about here?"

" Thefamily."

"Gotcha."

"So here it is . . ."

Lula was already chuckling, unable to contain herself. "I'm sorry," she said. "It just cracks me up. Wait until you hear this, you'll fall off the chair."

"Eddie DeChooch set up a deal for contraband cigarettes," Connie said. "He figured it was a small operation and he could handle it himself. So he rented a truck and drove to Richmond to pick up the cartons of cigarettes. While he's there Louie D has a fatal heart attack. As you may know, Louie D is from Jersey. All his life he's lived in Jersey and then a couple years ago he relocated to Richmond to manage some business operations. So when Louie D goes toes-up DeChooch gets on the phone and immediately notifies the Jersey family.

"The first person DeChooch calls, of course, is Anthony Thumbs." Connie paused, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. "Do you know who I'm talking about when I say Anthony Thumbs?"

I nodded. Anthony Thumbs controls Trenton. Which I guess is a dubious honor, being that Trenton isn't exactly the center of the universe for mob activity. His real name is Anthony Thumbelli but everyone calls him Anthony Thumbs. Since Thumbelli isn't a common Italian name, I can only assume it was fabricated on Ellis Island and stuck, just as my Grandfather Plum's name was shortened from Plumerri by an overworked immigration clerk.

Connie went on. "Anthony Thumbs has never been especially fond of Louie D, but Louie D is related in some obscure way, and Anthony knows the family plot is in Trenton. So Anthony Thumbs does the right thing as head of the family and tells DeChooch to escort Louie D back to Jersey for burial. Only Anthony Thumbs, who's not known as being the world's most eloquent guy, says to Eddie DeChooch, who can't hear for anything, 'Bring the fart to me.' That's a direct quote. Anthony Thumbs says to Eddie DeChooch, ' Bring the fart to me.'

"DeChooch knows there's no love lost between Louie D and Anthony Thumbs. And DeChooch thinks it's a vendetta thing and thinks Anthony Thumbs said, 'Bring the heart to me.'"

My mouth dropped open. "What?"

Connie was grinning and tears of laughter were streaming down Lula's cheeks.

"I love this part," Lula said. "I love this part."

"I swear to God," Connie said. "DeChooch thought Anthony Thumbs wanted Louie D's heart. So DeChooch breaks into the funeral home late at night and does a very nice job of slicing into Louie D and removing his heart. Had to crack a couple ribs to do it, apparently. The funeral director said . . ." Connie had to stop a minute to compose herself. "The funeral director said he'd never seen such a professional job."

Lula and Connie were laughing so hard they had to steady themselves with both hands on Connie's desk to keep from rolling on the floor.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, not knowing whether to join them laughing or go my own route and throw up.

Connie blew her nose and wiped the tears away with a clean tissue. "Okay, so DeChooch puts the heart in an igloo cooler with some ice and takes off for Trenton with the cigarettes and the heart. He brings the cooler to Anthony Thumbs, proud as anything, and tells him he's got Louie D's heart.

"Anthony goes nuts, of course, and tells DeChooch to take the fucking heart back to Richmond and have the undertaker return it to Louie D.

"Everyone's sworn to secrecy because this is not only embarrassing, it's dangerously disrespectful between two family factions that don't get along all that well during the best of times. And on top of that Louie D's wife, who is a very religious woman, is freaking because Louie's been desecrated. Sophia DeStephano has set herself up as the protector of Louie's immortal soul and is hell-bent to see Louie buried whole. And she's given DeChooch an ultimatum that either he gets Louie's heart back in Louie's body or DeChooch will be hamburger."

"Hamburger?"

"One of Louie's operations was a meat processing plant."

I gave an involuntary shiver.

"Now here's where it gets confusing. DeChooch somehow loses the heart."

It was so bizarre I wasn't sure if Connie was telling me the truth or if she and Lula had concocted the whole thing as a joke. "He lost the heart," I said. "How could he lose the heart?"

Connie did a palms-up. Like she couldn't totally believe it. "I got it all from my Aunt Flo, and that's as much as she knows."

"No wonder DeChooch is depressed."

"Fuckin' A," Lula said.

"Where does Loretta Ricci fit into this?"

Another palms-up from Connie. "Don't know."

"Mooner and Dougie?"

"Don't know that, either," Connie said.

"So DeChooch is looking for Louie D's heart."

Connie was still smiling. Connie really liked this. "Apparently."

I thought about it for a minute. "Somewhere along the way DeChooch decided Dougie had the heart. Then he decided Mooner had the heart."

"Yeah," Lula said, "and now he thinks you have the heart."

A bunch of black dots danced across my field of vision and bells started clanging in my head.

"Uh-oh," Lula said, "you don't look so good."

I put my head between my legs and tried to take a deep breath. "He thinks I have Louie D's heart!" I said. "He thinks I'm walking around with a heart. My God, what kind of a person walks around with a dead guy's heart?

"I thought we were talking about drugs. I thought I was trading some coke for Mooner. How am I ever going to pull off a swap for a heart?"

"Don't seem like anything you have to worry about," Lula said, "since DeChooch doesn't have Mooner or Dougie."

I told Connie and Lula about the limo and Mooner.

"Isn't that perfect," Lula said. "Some old lady kidnapped the Mooner. Maybe it was Louie D's wife trying to get Louie's heart back."

"You better hope it wasn't Louie D's wife," Connie said. "She makes Morelli's grandmother look sane. There's a story told about her that she thought a neighbor disrespected her, and the next day the woman was found dead with her tongue cut out."

"She made Louie kill the woman?"

"No," Connie said. "Louie wasn't home at the time. He was away on business."

"Omigod."

"Anyway, it's probably not Sophia because I hear she's been locked in her house ever since Louie died, lighting candles and praying and cursing DeChooch." Connie thought about it for a minute. "You know who else could have kidnapped Mooner? Louie D's sister, Estelle Colucci."

It wouldn't be difficult to kidnap Mooner, either. All you have to do is offer Mooner a joint and he'll happily follow you to the ends of the earth.

"Maybe we should go talk to Estelle Colucci," I said to Lula.

"I'm ready to roll," Lula said.

BENNY AND ESTELLE Colucci live in a nicely maintained duplex in the Burg. For that matter, just about every house in the Burg is nicely maintained. It's mandatory for survival. Decorating taste might vary, but windows damn well better be clean.

I parked the bike in front of the Colucci house, walked to the door, and knocked. No answer. Lula pushed into the bushes under the front windows and looked inside.

"Don't see anyone," Lula said. "No lights on. Television's not going."

We tried the club next. No Benny. I drove two blocks to Hamilton and recognized Benny's car at the corner of Hamilton and Grand, parked in front of the Tip Top Sandwich Shop. Lula and I squinted in through the plate-glass window. Benny and Ziggy were inside having a late breakfast.

The Tip Top is a narrow hole-in-the-wall cafe that serves homemade food for reasonable prices. The green-and-black linoleum on the floor is cracked, the overhead light fixtures are dim from grime, the Naugahyde seats in the booths are patched with duct tape. Mickey Spritz was an army cook during the Korean conflict. He opened the Tip Top when he got out of the army thirty years ago and he hasn't changed a thing since. Not the flooring, the booth seats, the menu. Mickey and his wife do all the cooking. And a retarded man, Pookie Potter, buses the tables and washes the dishes.

Benny and Ziggy were concentrating on eating their eggs when Lula and I approached.

"Jeez," Benny said, looking up from his eggs, gaping at Lula in full leather. "Where do you find these people?"

"We stopped by your house," I said to Benny. "No one was home."

"Yeah. That's because I'm here."

"What about Estelle? Estelle wasn't home, either."

"We had a death in the family," Benny said. "Estelle is out of town for a couple days."

"I guess you're talking about Louie D," I said. "And the screw-up."

I had Benny and Ziggy's attention now.

"You know about the screw-up?" Benny asked.

"I know about the heart."

"Jesus H. Christ," Benny said. "I thought you were bluffing."

"Where's Mooner?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know where he is, but my wife is driving me fucking nuts over this heart thing. You gotta give me the heart. That's all I hear about . . . how I gotta get the heart. I'm only human, you know what I mean? I can't take it anymore."

"Benny isn't well himself," Ziggy said. "He has conditions, too. You should give him the heart so he can have some peace. It's the right thing to do."

"And just think about Louie D laying there without his heart," Benny said. "That's not nice. You should have your heart when they put you in the ground."

"When did Estelle leave for Richmond?"

"Monday."

"That's the day Mooner disappeared," I said.

Benny leaned forward. "What are you suggesting?"

"That Estelle snatched Mooner."

Benny and Ziggy looked at each other. They hadn't considered this possibility.

"Estelle doesn't do stuff like that," Benny said.

"How did she get to Richmond? Did she take a limo?"

"No. She drove. She was going to Richmond to visit Louie D's wife, Sophia, and then she was going to Norfolk. We got a daughter there."

"I don't suppose you have a picture of Estelle with you?"

Benny pulled his wallet out and showed me a picture of Estelle. She was a pleasant-looking woman with a round face and short gray hair.

"Well, I've got the heart, and now it's up to you to find out who has Mooner," I said to Benny.

And Lula and I left.

"Holy shit," Lula said when we were on the bike. "You were so freaking cool in there. You actually had me thinking you knew what you were doing. Like, I was almost thinking you had the heart."

Lula and I went back to the office, and my cell phone buzzed just as I walked through the door.

"Is your grandmother with you?" my mother wanted to know. "She walked to the bakery early this morning to get some rolls and she hasn't come back."

"I haven't seen her."

"Your father went out to look for her but he couldn't find her. And I've called all her friends. She's been gone for hours."

"How many hours?"

"I don't know. A couple. It's just that it's not like her. She always comes right home from the bakery."

"Okay," I said, "I'll go look for Grandma. Give me a call if she turns up."

I disconnected and my phone immediately rang again.

It was Eddie DeChooch. "Do you still have the heart?" he wanted to know.

"Yes."

"Well, I've got something to trade."

I had a bad feeling in my stomach. "Mooner?"

"Guess again."

There was some scuffling and then Grandma came on the line.

"What's this business about a heart?" Grandma wanted to know.

"It's sort of complicated. Are you okay?"

"I've got a little arthritis in my knee today."

"No. I mean is Choochy treating you all right?"

I could hear Chooch in the background prompting Grandma. "Tell her you're kidnapped," he was saying. "Tell her I'm gonna blow your head off if she doesn't give me the heart."

"I'm not telling her that," Grandma said. "How would that sound? And don't get any funny ideas, either. Just because I'm kidnapped doesn't mean I'm easy. I'm not doing anything with you unless you take precautions. I'm not taking any chances getting one of them diseases."

DeChooch came back on the line. "Here's the deal. You take your cell phone and Louie D's heart to Quaker Bridge Mall and I'll call you at seven o'clock. Any cops come in on this and your granny's dead."

"WHAT WAS THAT all about?" Lula wanted to know.

"DeChooch has Grandma Mazur. He wants to trade her for the heart. I'm supposed to take the heart to Quaker Bridge Mall, and he's going to call me at seven with further instructions. He said he'll kill her if I bring the police into it."

"Kidnappers always say that," Lula said. "It's in the kidnapper handbook."

"What are you going to do?" Connie wanted to know. "Do you have any idea who has the heart?"

"Hold up here," Lula said. "Louie D don't have his name engraved on his heart. Why don't we just get another heart? How's Eddie DeChooch gonna know if it's Louie D's heart? I bet we could give Eddie DeChooch a cow heart and he wouldn't know. We just go to a butcher and tell him we need a cow heart. We don't go to a butcher in the Burg because word might get around. We go to some other butcher. I know a couple over on Stark Street. Or we could try Price Chopper. They've got a real good meat department.

"I'm surprised DeChooch didn't come up with this. I mean, nobody has even seen Louie D's heart except for DeChooch. And DeChooch can't see for shit. DeChooch probably took that pot roast out of Dougie's freezer thinking it was the heart."

"Lulu's come up with something here," Connie said. "It might work."

I picked my head up from between my legs. "It's creepy!"

"Yeah," Lula said. "That's the best part." She looked at the clock on the wall. "It's lunchtime. Let's go get a burger and then we'll get a heart."

I used Connie's phone to call my mother.

"Don't worry about Grandma," I said. "I know where she is and I'm going to pick her up later tonight." Then I hung up before my mother could ask questions.

AFTER LUNCH LULA and I went to Price Chopper.

"We need a heart," Lida said to the butcher. "And it has to be in good condition."

"Sorry," he said, "we don't have any hearts. How about some other kind of organ meat. Like liver. We have some nice calf livers."

"Has to be a heart," Lula said. "You know where we can get a heart?"

"So far as I know, they all go to a dog food factory in Arkansas."

"We haven't got time to go to Arkansas," Lula said. "Thanks, anyway."

On the way out we stopped at a display of picnic necessities and bought a small red-and-white Igloo cooler.

"This'll be perfect," Lula said. "All we need now is the heart."

"Do you think we'll have better luck on Stark Street?"

"I know some butchers there that sell stuff you don't want to know about," Lula said. "If they don't got a heart they'll go get one, no questions asked."

There were parts to Stark Street that made Bosnia look good. Lula worked Stark Street when she was a ho. It was a long street of depressed businesses, depressed housing, and depressed people.

It took us close to a half hour to get there, rumbling through center city, enjoying the custom pipes and the attention a hog demands.

It was a sunny April day, but Stark Street looked dreary. Pages from a newspaper cartwheeled down the street and banked against curbs and the cement stoops of cheerless row houses. Gang slogans were spray-painted on brick fronts. An occasional building had been burned and gutted, the windows blackened and boarded. Small businesses squatted between the row houses. Andy's Bar & Grill, Stark Street Garage, Stan's Appliances, Omar's Meat Market.

"This is the place," Lula said. "Omar's Meat Market. If it's used for dog food then Omar's gonna be selling it for soup. We just want to make sure the heart isn't still beating when we get it."

"Is it safe to leave the bike parked here at the curb?"

"Hell no. Park it on the sidewalk next to the window so we can watch it."

There was a large black man behind the meat case. His hair was buzzed short and was shot with gray. His white butcher's apron was blood-smeared. He had a thick gold chain around his neck and he wore a single diamond stud. He smiled ear-to-ear when he saw us.

"Lula! Looking good. Never see you anymore since you stopped working the street. Like the leather."

"This here's Omar," Lula said to me. "He's about as rich as Bill Gates. He just runs this butcher shop because he likes sticking his hand up chicken butts."

Omar tipped his head back and laughed, and the sound was a lot like the Harley echoing off the Stark Street storefronts.

"What can I do for you?" Omar asked Lula.

"I need a heart."

Omar didn't blink an eye. Guess he got requests for hearts all the time. "Sure," he said, "what kind of a heart do you want? What are you going to do with it? Make soup? Slice it and fry it?"

"I don't suppose you have any human hearts?"

"Not today. They're special order."

"What's the next closest thing, then?"

"Pig heart. Can't hardly tell the difference."

"Okay," Lula said, "I'll take one of those."

Omar went to the end case and pawed through a vat of organs. He picked one out and put it on the scale on a piece of waxed paper. "How's this?"

Lula and I looked around the scale at it.

"I don't know much about hearts," Lula said to Omar. "Maybe you could help us out here. We're looking for a heart that would fit a two-hundred-and-thirty-pound pig who just had a heart attack."

"How old is this pig?"

"Late sixties, maybe seventy."

"That's a pretty old pig," Omar said. He went back and picked out a second heart. "This one's been in the vat for a while. I don't know if the pig had a heart attack, but the heart don't look all that good." He poked it with his finger. "It's not that it's missing any parts, or anything, it just looks like it's been around the block, you know what I mean?"

"How much is it?" Lula asked.

"You're in luck. This one's on sale. I could let you have this one for half price."

Lula and I exchanged glances.

"Okay, we'll take it," I said.

Omar looked over the counter at the cooler in Lula's hand. "You want Porky wrapped up or do you want him packed in ice?"

ON THE WAY back to the office I pulled up for a light, and a guy on a Harley Fat Boy eased to a stop beside me.

"Nice bike," he said. "What have you got in the cooler?"

"A pig heart," Lula said.

And then the light changed and we both took off.

Five minutes later we were in the office, showing the heart to Connie.

"Boy, it looks like the real thing," Connie said.

Lula and I gave Connie some raised eyebrows.

"Not that I'd know," Connie said.

"This is gonna work good," Lula said. "All we have to do now is swap this for Granny."

Tendrils of fear curled in my stomach. Nervous little flutterings that took my breath away. I didn't want anything bad to happen to Grandma.

Valerie and I used to fight all the time when we were kids. I always had some crazy idea and Valerie always snitched on me to my mother. Stephanie's up on the garage roof trying to fly, Valerie would scream to my mother, running into the kitchen. Or, Stephanie's in the backyard trying to tinkle standing up like a boy. After my mother yelled at me, when no one was looking, I'd give Valerie a really good smack on the head. Whack ! And then we'd fight. And then my mother would yell at me again. And then I'd run away from home.

I always ran to Grandma Mazur's house. Grandma Mazur never passed judgment. Now I know why. Deep down inside Grandma Mazur was even crazier than I was.

Grandma Mazur would take me in without a word of admonishment. She'd haul her four kitchen chairs into the living room, arrange them in a square and drape a sheet over them. She'd give me a pillow and some books to read and send the into the tent she'd made. After a couple minutes a plate of cookies or a sandwich would get passed under the sheet.

At some point in the afternoon, before my grandfather came hone from work, my mother would come fetch me and everything would be fine.

And now Grandma was with crazy Eddie DeChooch. And at seven I'd trade her for a pig heart. "Unh!" I said.

Lula and Connie glanced over at me.

"Thinking out loud," I told them. "Maybe I should call Joe or Ranger for backup."

"Joe's the police," Lula said. "And DeChooch said no police."

"DeChooch wouldn't know Joe was there."

"Do you think he'll go along with the plan?"

That was the problem. I'd have to tell Joe I was trading Grandma for a pig heart. It was one thing to disclose something like that when it was all over and it had worked perfectly. At the moment it sounded a lot like the time I tried to fly off the garage.

"Maybe he'd come up with a better plan," I said.

"Only one thing DeChooch wants," Lula said. "And you've got it in that cooler."

"I have a pig heart in this cooler!"

"Well yeah, technically that's true," Lula said.

Probably Ranger was the better way to go. Ranger fit in with the nut cases of the world . . . like Lula and Grandma and me.

There was no answer on Ranger's cell phone, so I tried his pager and got a call back in less than a minute.

"There's a new problem with the DeChooch thing," I said to Ranger. "He's got Grandma."

"A match made in heaven," Ranger said.

"This is serious! I let it be known that I had what DeChooch was after. Since he doesn't have Mooner he's kidnapped Grandma so he has something to trade. The swap is set for seven."

"What are you planning on giving DeChooch?"

"A pig heart."

"That sounds fair," Ranger said.

"It's a long story."

"What can I do for you?"

"I could use backup in case something goes wrong." Then I told him the plan.

"Have Vinnie wire you," Ranger said. "I'll stop by the office later this afternoon to get the receiver. Switch the wire on at six-thirty."

"Is the price the same?"

"This is a freebie."

AFTER I GOT wired, Lula and I decided to head for the mall. Lula needed shoes, and I needed to keep my mind off Grandma.

Quaker Bridge is a two-level mall just off Route 1, between Trenton and Princeton. It has all the typical mall stores plus a couple larger department stores anchoring each end with a Macy's in the middle. I parked the bike close to the Macy's door because Macy's was having a shoe sale.

"Look at this," Lula said to me in the Macy's shoe department. "We're the only people here with a picnic cooler."

Truth is, I had a death grip on the cooler, clutching it to my chest with both hands. Lula was still in full leather. I was in boots and jeans with my two black eyes and Igloo cooler. And people were crashing into display cases and mannequins, staring at us.

Bounty hunter rule number one . . . be inconspicuous.

My phone rang and I almost dropped the cooler.

It was Ranger. "What the hell are you doing? You're attracting so much attention you've got a security guard following you around. He probably thinks you've got a bomb in the cooler."

"I'm a little nervous."

"No shit."

And he disconnected.

"Listen," I said to Lula, "why don't we go have a piece of pizza and just chill until it's time."

"Sounds good to me," Lula said. "I don't see any shoes I like anyway."

At six-thirty I drained the ice melt out of the cooler and asked the kid at the pizza counter for some fresh ice.

He handed me a cupful.

"Actually I need it for the cooler," I said. "I need more than a cup."

He looked over the counter at the cooler. "I don't think I'm allowed to give you that much ice."

"You don't give us ice and our heart's gonna go bad," Lula said. "We gotta keep it cold."

The kid did another take on the cooler. "Your heart?"

Lula slid the top back and showed him the heart.

"Holy crap, lady," the kid said. "Take all the ice you want."

We filled the cooler half full, so that the heart looked nice and fresh on its bed of new ice. Then I went into the ladies' room and flipped the wire on.

"Testing," I said. "Can you hear me?"

A second later my phone rang. "I can hear you," Ranger said. "And I can hear the woman in the stall next to you."

I left Lula at the pizza place and walked to the middle of the mall, in front of Macy's. I sat on a bench with the cooler on my lap and my cell phone in my jacket pocket for easy access.

At exactly seven the phone rang.

"Are you ready for the instructions?" Eddie DeChooch asked.

"I'm ready."

"Drive to the first underpass going south on Route One . . ."

And at that moment I was tapped on the shoulder by the security guard.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, "but I'm going to have to ask to see the contents of that cooler."

"Who's there?" DeChooch wanted to know. "Who is that?"

"It's no one," I said to DeChooch. "Go ahead with the directions."

"I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the cooler," the guard said. " Now."

From the corner of my eye I could see another guard approaching.

"Listen," I said to DeChooch. "I've got a little problem here. Could you call me back in about ten minutes?"

"I don't like this," DeChooch said. "It's off. It's all off."

"No! Wait!"

He hung up.

Shit.

"What is the deal with you?" I said to the guard. "Couldn't you see I was talking on the phone? This is so important it couldn't wait two seconds? Don't they teach you anything in rent-a-cop school?"

He had his gun out now. "Just move away from the chest."

I knew Ranger was watching from somewhere, and he was probably having a hard time keeping from laughing.

I placed the chest on the bench and stepped away.

"Now reach out with your right hand and slide the top open so I can look inside," the guard said.

I did as I was asked.

The guard leaned forward and looked in the chest. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a heart. Is there a problem with that? Is it illegal to take a heart to the mall?"

There were two guards there now. They exchanged glances. The rent-a-cop handbook didn't cover this.

"Sorry to have disturbed you." the guard said. "It looked suspicious."

"Moron," I snapped.

Then I slid the top closed, took my cooler, and stormed back to Lula at the pizza stand.

"Uh-oh," Lula said. "How come you still got that cooler? You're supposed to have Granny."

"It got screwed up."

Ranger was waiting by my bike. "If I ever need to be ransomed, do me a favor and decline the job," he said. He reached under my shirt and turned the wire off. "Don't worry. He'll call back. How could he refuse a pig heart?" Ranger looked inside the chest and smiled. "It's really a pig heart."

"It's supposed to be Louie D's heart," I told Ranger. "DeChooch removed it by mistake. And then somehow DeChooch managed to lose the heart while en route back to Richmond."

"And you were going to pawn a pig heart off on him," Ranger said.

"It was short notice," Lula said. "We tried to get a regular one, but they were special order."

"Nice bike," Ranger said to me. "Suits you."

And then he was in his car and gone.

Lula fanned herself. "That man is so hot."

I CALLED MY mother when I got back to my apartment. "About Grandma," I said. "She's spending the night with her friend."

"Why didn't she call me?"

"I guess she figured it was enough to talk to me."

"That's very strange. Is this a man friend?"

"Yeah."

I heard the sound of a dish breaking and then my mother hung up.

I had the cooler sitting on the kitchen counter. I looked inside and wasn't happy with what I saw. The ice was melting and the heart wasn't looking all that good. There was only one thing to do. Freeze the damn thing.

I very carefully scooped it up and plopped it into a sandwich bag. I gagged a couple times, but I didn't blow chow so I was pretty pleased. Then I put the heart into the freezer.

There were two messages from Joe on my machine. Both of them said call me .

This wasn't something I wanted to do. He'd ask questions I didn't want to answer. Especially since the pig-heart swap had gotten snafued. There was an annoying voice in my head that kept whispering, If the cops were involved it might have gone off better .

And what about Grandma? She was still with Eddie DeChooch. Crazy, depressed Eddie DeChooch.

Crap. I dialed Joe. "I need you to help me," I said. "But you can't be a cop."

"Maybe you should spell that out for me."

"I'm going to tell you something, but you have to promise it stays between us and doesn't become official police business."

"I can't do that."

"You have to."

"What is it?"

"Eddie DeChooch has kidnapped Grandma."

"No offense, but DeChooch is lucky if he survives."

"I could use some company. Can you spend the night?"

A half hour later, Joe and Bob arrived. Bob ran through the apartment, snuffling chair seats, investigating waste baskets, and ended by clawing at the refrigerator door.

"He's on a diet," Morelli said. "He went to the vet today for shots and the vet says he's too fat." He clicked the television on and found the Rangers game. "You want to tell me about it?"

I burst into tears. "He's got Grandma and I screwed it up. And now I'm scared. I've haven't heard from him. What if he's killed Grandma?" I was sobbing. Unable to stop. Big, wracking, stupid sobs that made my nose run and my face get puffy and splotchy.

Morelli wrapped his arms around me. "How did you screw it up?"

"I had the heart in the cooler and the security guard stopped me and then DeChooch called it off."

"The heart?"

I pointed to the kitchen. "It's in the freezer."

Morelli broke loose and went to the freezer. I heard him open the freezer door. A moment passed. "You're right," he said. "There's a heart in here." And the freezer door squished shut.

"It's a pig heart," I told him.

"That's a relief."

I gave him the whole story.

The thing about Morelli is that he can be a tough person to read. He was a wise-ass kid and a wild teen. I guess he was living up to expectations. Morelli men have a certain reputation for hard living. But then somewhere in his twenties Morelli starting being his own man. So that now it's hard to tell where the new Morelli starts and the old Morelli stops.

I suspected the new Morelli would think foisting a pig heart off on Eddie DeChooch was a crackpot scheme. And I further suspected this would fan the flames of his fear that he was about to marry Lucy Ricardo of I Love Lucy fame.

"That was pretty clever of you to try a pig heart," Morelli said.

I almost fell off the couch.

"If you'd called me instead of Ranger I could have secured the area."

"Hindsight," I said. "I didn't want to do anything that would spook DeChooch."

We both jumped when the phone rang.

"I'm giving you another chance," DeChooch said. "You screw this one up and your grandmother's gone."

"Is she okay?"

"She's driving me nuts."

"I want to talk to her."

"You can talk to her when you deliver the heart. Here's the new plan. Take the heart and your cell phone to the diner in Hamilton Township."

"The Silver Dollar?"

"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow night at seven."

"Why can't we make the swap sooner?"

"Believe me, I'd love to make the swap sooner, but it don't work out for me. Is the heart still in good shape?"

"I've got it on ice."

"How much ice?"

"It's frozen."

"I figured you'd have to do that. Just make sure you don't chip a piece off. I was real careful taking it out. I don't want you messing it up."

He disconnected and my stomach felt sick.

" Ick."

Morelli put his arm around me. "Don't worry about your grandmother. She's like that '53 Buick. Frighteningly indestructible. Maybe even immortal."

I shook my head. "She's just an old lady."

"I'd feel a lot better if I honestly believed that," Morelli said. "But what I think we have here is a generation of women and cars that defy science and logic."

"You're thinking of your own grandmother."

"I've never admitted this to anyone before, but sometimes I worry she can actually give people the eye. Sometimes she scares the hell out of me."

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. Morelli had always been so casual about his grandmother's threats and predictions.

I slipped my number 35 jersey on over my T-shirt, and Morelli and I watched the Rangers game. After the game we walked Bob, and crawled into bed.

Crash. Scratch, scratch. Crash .

Morelli and I looked at each other. Bob was foraging, knocking dishes off the kitchen counter, looking for crumbs.

"He's hungry," Morelli said. "Maybe we should lock him in the bedroom with us so he doesn't eat a chair."

Morelli got out of bed and returned with Bob. Morelli locked the door and got back into bed. And Bob jumped into bed with us. Bob turned in a circle five or six times, scratched at the quilt, turned some more, looked confused.

"He's kind of cute," I said to Morelli. "In a prehistoric way."

Bob did a few more turns and then wedged himself between Morelli and me. He laid his big dog head on a corner of Morelli's pillow, gave a sigh of contentment, and instantly fell asleep.

"You need to get a bigger bed," Morelli said.

And I didn't have to worry about birth control, either.

MORELLI ROLLED OUT of bed at the crack of dawn.

I opened one eye. "What are you doing? It's barely light out."

"I can't sleep. Bob is hogging my side. Besides, I promised the vet I'd make sure Bob got some exercise, so we're going out running."

"That's nice."

"You, too," Morelli said.

"No way."

"You're the one who stuck me with this dog. You're going to get your ass out of there and run with us."

"No way!"

Morelli grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me out of bed. "Don't make me get rough," he said.

We both stood there looking at Bob. He was the only one left in bed. He still had his head on the pillow, but he looked worried. Bob wasn't an early morning sort of dog. And he wasn't much of an athlete.

"Get up," Morelli said to Bob.

Bob squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to sleep.

Morelli tried to drag Bob out of bed and Bob growled low in his throat like he meant business.

"Shit," Morelli said. "How do you do it? How do you get him to crap on Joyce's lawn so early in the morning?"

"You know about that?"

"Gordon Skyer lives across the street from Joyce. I play racquetball with Gordon."

"I bribe him with food."

Morelli went off to the kitchen and returned with a bag of carrots. "Look what I found," he said. "You have healthy food in your refrigerator. I'm impressed."

I didn't want to burst his bubble, but the carrots were for Rex. The only way I like carrots is if they're dipped in batter and deep-fat-fried or incorporated into carrot cake with lots of cream cheese frosting.

Morelli held a carrot out for Bob, and Bob gave him a you've got to be kidding look.

I was starting to feel sorry for Morelli. "Okay," I said, "let's just get dressed and go out into the kitchen and rattle some things around. Bob will cave."

Five minutes later we were suited up and Bob was collared and clipped to his leash.

"Hold on," I said. "We can't all go out and leave the heart home alone. People break into my apartment on a regular basis."

"What people?"

"Benny and Ziggy for starters."

"People can't just walk into your house. That's illegal. That's breaking and entering."

"It's no big deal," I said. "The first couple times it caught me by surprise, but you get used to it after a while." I took the heart out of the freezer. "I'll leave this with Mr. Morganstern. He's an early riser."

"My freezer is on the blink," I told Mr. Morganstem, "and I don't want this to defrost. Could you keep it for me until dinnertime?"

"Sure," he said. "It looks like a heart."

"It's a new diet. Once a week you have to eat a heart."

"No kidding. Maybe I should do that. I've been a little sluggish lately."

Morelli was waiting for me in the parking lot. He was jogging in place, and Bob was looking bright-eyed and smiley now that he was out in the fresh air.

"Is he empty?" I asked Morelli.

"All taken care of."

Morelli and Bob took off at a brisk pace, and I slogged along behind them. I can walk three miles in four-inch heels and I can shop Morelli into the ground, but I don't do running. Now if I was running to a sale on handbags, maybe.

Little by little, I fell farther and farther behind. When Morelli and Bob turned the corner and were lost from sight, I cut through a yard and came out at Ferarro's Bakery. I got an almond danish and leisurely walked hone, eating my pastry. I was almost to my parking lot when I saw Joe and Bob loping down St. James. I immediately started jogging and gasping for air.

"Where were you guys?" I said. " I lost you."

Morelli shook his head in disgust. "That's so sad. You have powdered sugar on your shirt."

"Must have fallen from the sky."

"Pathetic," Morelli said.

We passed Benny and Ziggy in the hall when we returned.

"Looks like you were out jogging," Ziggy said. "That's very healthy. More people should do that."

Morelli put a hand to Ziggy's chest to detain him. "What are you doing here?"

"We came to see Ms. Plum, but no one was home."

"Well, here she is. Don't you want to talk to her?"

"Sure," Ziggy said. "Did you like the jelly?"

"The jelly is great. Thanks."

"You didn't break into her apartment just now, did you?" Morelli asked.

"We wouldn't do a thing like that," Benny said. "We got too much respect for her. Right, Ziggy?"

"Yeah, that's right," Ziggy said. "But I could if I wanted to. I still got the touch."

"Have you had a chance to talk to your wife?" I asked Benny. "Is she in Richmond?"

"I talked to her last night. And she's in Norfolk. She said things are as good as can be expected. I'm sure you understand this has been upsetting for all concerned."

"A tragedy. No other news from Richmond?"

"Sadly, no."

Benny and Ziggy trotted off to the elevator, and Morelli and I followed Bob into the kitchen.

"They were in here, weren't they?" Morelli said "Yeah. Looking for the heart. Benny's wife is making his life a living hell until the heart is returned."

Morelli measured out a cup of food for Bob. Bob inhaled it and looked for more.

"Sorry, fella," Morelli said. "That's what happens when you get fat."

I sucked my stomach in, feeling guilty about the danish. Compared to Morelli I was a cow. Morelli had washboard abs. Morelli could actually do sit-ups. Lots of them. In my mind's eye I could do sit-ups, too. In real life, sit-ups ran a close second to the joy of jogging.

EDDIE DECHOOCH HAD Grandma stashed someplace. Probably not in the Burg because I would have heard something by now. Somewhere in the Trenton area. Both phone-in locations were local.

Joe had promised not to file a report, but I knew he'd work undercover. He'd ask questions and he'd have cops out there looking a lot harder for Eddie DeChooch. Connie and Vinnie and Lula were tapping their sources, too. I didn't expect anything to come of it. Eddie DeChooch was working alone. He might visit with Father Carolli once in a while. And he might be drawn to the occasional wake. But he was out there alone. I was convinced no one knew his lair. With the possible exception of Mary Maggie Mason.

For whatever reason, two days ago, DeChooch had come to call on Mary Maggie.

I picked Lula up at the office, and we motored off to Mary Maggie's condo building. It was midmorning and traffic was light. Clouds were coagulating overhead. Rain was expected later today. No one in Jersey gave a rat's ass. It was Thursday. Let it rain. In Jersey we cared about weekend weather.

The Low Rider rumbled in the underground garage, the vibrations bouncing off the cement ceiling and floor. We didn't see the white Cadillac, but the MMM-YUM silver Porsche was occupying its usual slot. I parked the Harley two lanes over.

Lula and I looked at each other. We didn't want to go upstairs.

"I feel funny about talking to Mary Maggie," I said. "That mud thing wasn't exactly a moment of shining glory for one."

"It was all her fault. She started it."

"I could have done better, but I was caught by surprise," I said.

"Yeah," Lula said. "I could tell that by the way you kept yelling help . I just hope she doesn't want to sue me for a broken back or something."

We got to Mary Maggie's door and we both turned quiet. I took a deep breath and rang the bell. Mary Maggie opened her door, and the instant she saw us she tried to slam the door closed. Bounty hunter rule number two--if a door opens, get your boot in there fast.

"Now what?" Mary Maggie said, struggling to get my boot out of the way.

"I want to talk to you."

"You've already talked to me."

"I need to talk to you again. Eddie DeChooch kidnapped my grandmother."

Mary Maggie stopped struggling and looked out at me. "Are you serious?"

"I have something he wants. And now he has someone I want."

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"I was hoping you could help me find her."

Mary Maggie opened her door and Lula and I invited ourselves in. I didn't think I'd find Grandma tucked away in a closet, but I had to look anyway. The apartment was nice but not that large. Open floor plan living room and dining room and kitchen. One bedroom. Bath and a half. It was tastefully furnished with classic pieces. Soft colors. Grays and beiges. And of course there were books everywhere.

"I honestly don't know where he is," Mary Maggie said. "He asked to borrow my car. He's done it before. When the owner of the club asks to borrow something it's a good idea to loan it to him. And besides, he's a nice old man. After you were here I went to his nephew and told him I wanted my car back. Eddie was bringing it back when you and your friend ambushed him in my garage. I haven't heard from him since."

The bad news was that I believed her. The good news was that Ronald DeChooch communicates with his uncle.

"Sorry about your shoe," Mary Maggie said to Lula. "We looked for it, but we couldn't find it."

"Hunh," Lula said.

Lula and I didn't talk until we got to the garage.

"What do you think?" Lula asked.

"I think we need to visit Ronald DeChooch."

I cranked the bike over, Lula climbed on, and we tore through the garage like judgment day and headed for Ace Pavers.

"We're pretty lucky we got good jobs," Lula said when I pulled up to Ronald DeChooch's brick office building. "We could be working at a place like this, smelling tar all day, always having chunks of black stuff stuck to the bottom of our shoes."

I got off the bike and removed my helmet. The smell of hot asphalt lay heavy in the air, and beyond the locked gate the blackened rollers and pitch trucks gave off shimmering waves of heat. There were no men in sight, but clearly the equipment had just come off a job.

"We're going to be professional but assertive," I said to Lula.

"You mean we're not taking any crap from that roody-poo jabroni Ronald DeChooch."

"You've been watching wrestling again," I said to Lula.

"I've got it on tape so I can do reruns of The Rock," Lula said.

Lula and I puffed ourselves up and marched in without knocking. We weren't going to be put off by a bunch of card-playing jerks. We were going to get answers. We were going to get respect.

We barreled through the small entrance hall and again without knocking went straight to the inside office. We whipped the doors open and came face-to-face with Ronald DeChooch playing hide-the-salami with the clerical help. Actually it wasn't face-to-face because DeChooch had his back to us. More correctly, he had his big hairy ass to us because he was doing the poor woman doggy-style. His pants were around his ankles and the woman was bent over the card table, holding on for all she was worth.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Lula started laughing.

"You should think about having your ass waxed," Lula said to DeChooch. "That is one ugly butt."

"Christ," DeChooch said, pulling his pants up. "A man can't even have relations in his own office."

The woman jumped up and adjusted her skirt and tried to stuff her boobs back into her bra. She scuttled away, looking mortally embarrassed, with her panties in her hand. I hoped she was being well compensated.

"Now what?" DeChooch said. "You have something special in mind, or you just come to see a show?"

"Your uncle kidnapped my grandmother."

"What?"

"He took her yesterday. He wants to ransom her for the heart."

The surprise in his eyes ratcheted up a notch. "You know about the heart?"

Lula and I exchanged glances.

"I . . . um, have the heart," I said.

"Jesus Christ. How the fuck did you get the heart?"

"It don't matter how she got it," Lula said.

"Right," I said. "What matters is that we get this all settled. First off, I want my grandmother back home. And then I want Mooner and Dougie."

"Your grandmother I might be able to arrange," Ronald said. "I don't know where my Uncle Eddie's hiding out, but I talk to him once in a while. He's got a cell phone. Those other two are something different. I don't know anything about them. So far as I can tell nobody knows anything about them."

"Eddie is supposed to call me tonight at seven. I don't want anything to go wrong. I'm going to give him the heart, and I want my grandmother back. If anything bad happens to my grandmother or she doesn't get swapped for the heart tonight, it's going to be ugly."