His grin widened. “I guess you're still in war mode.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Not exactly laughing.”
“Well then, what?”
He rocked back on his heels, hands rammed into his pockets. “I think you're cute.”
“Jesus.”
“Too bad we're not working together,” Morelli said. “If we were working together I could tell you about my cousin's car.”
“What about his car?”
“They found it late this afternoon. Abandoned. No bodies in the trunk. No bloodstains. No Kenny.”
“Where?”
“The parking lot at the mall.”
“Maybe Kenny was shopping.”
“Unlikely. Mall security remembers seeing the car parked overnight.”
“Were the doors locked?”
“All but the driver's door.”
I considered that for a moment. “If I was abandoning my cousin's car, I'd make sure all the doors were locked.”
Morelli and I stared into each other's eyes a
nd let the next thought go unsaid. Maybe Kenny was dead. There was no real basis in fact to draw such a conclusion, but the premonition skittered through my mind, and I wondered how this related to the letter I'd just received.
Morelli acknowledged the possibility with a grim set to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said.
Stiva had formed a lobby by removing the walls between what had originally been the foyer and the dining room of the large Victorian. Wall-to-wall carpet unified the room and silenced footsteps. Tea was served on a maple library table just outside the kitchen door. Lights were subdued, Queen Anne period chairs and end tables were grouped for conversation, and small floral arrangements were scattered throughout. It would have been a pleasant room if it wasn't for the certain knowledge that Uncle Harry or Aunt Minnie or Morty the mailman was naked in another part of the house, dead as a doorknob, getting pumped full of formaldehyde.
“You want some tea?” Grandma asked me.
I shook my head no. Tea held no appeal. I wanted fresh air and chocolate pudding. And I wanted to get out of my panty hose. “I'm ready to leave,” I said to Grandma. “How about you?”
Grandma looked around. “It's still kind of early, but I guess I haven't got anybody left to see.” She set her teacup on the table and settled her pocketbook into the crook of her arm. “I could use some chocolate pudding anyway.”
She turned to Morelli. “We had chocolate pudding for dessert tonight, and there's still some left. We always make a double batch.”
“Been a long time since I've had homemade chocolate pudding,” Morelli said.
Grandma snapped to attention. “Is that so? Well, you're welcome to join us. We've got plenty.”
A small strangled sound escaped from the back of my throat, and I glared no, no, no at Morelli.
Morelli gave me one of those ultranaive what? looks. “Chocolate pudding sounds great,” he said. “I'd love some chocolate pudding.”
“Then it's settled,” Grandma announced. “You know where we live?”
Morelli assured us he could find the house with his eyes closed, but just to make sure we'd be safe in the night, he'd follow us home.