I assumed I didn't have to do this for Morelli, since I'd be the first person who came to mind.
“Probably it'd be best if we don't mention anything about the gun when we get home,” I told Grandma. “You know how Mom is about guns.”
“That's okay by me,” Grandma said. “I'd just as leave forget the whole thing. Can't believe I missed that car. Didn't even blow out a tire.”
My mother raised her eyebrows when she saw the two of us straggle in. “Now what?” my mother asked. She squinted at Grandma. “What happened to your head?”
“Hit myself with a soda can,” Grandma said. “Freak accident.”
Half an hour later Morelli came knocking at the door. “I want to see you . . . outside,” he said, hooking his hand around my arm, jerking me forward.
“It wasn't my fault,” I told him. “Grandma and I were sitting in the Buick, minding our own business, when Kenny came up behind us and knocked us into your car.”
“You want to run that by me again?”
“He was driving a two-tone Suburban. He saw Grandma and me parked on Hamilton. He made a U-turn and rammed us from behind. Twice. Then Grandma jumped out of the car and shot at him, and he drove away.”
“That's the lamest story I've ever heard.”
“It's true!”
Grandma stuck her head out the door. “What's going on out here?”
“He thinks I made up the story about Kenny hitting us with the Suburban.”
Grandma snagged the tote bag from the hall table. She rummaged through it, came up with the .45-long barrel, and aimed it at Morelli.
“Jesus!” Morelli said, ducking out of the way, taking the gun from Grandma. “Where the hell did you get this cannon?”
“Borrowed it,” Grandma said. “And I used it on your no-good cousin, but he got away.”
Morelli studied his shoes for a beat before speaking. “I don't suppose this gun is registered?”
“What do you mean?” Grandma asked. “Registered where?”
“Get rid of it,” Morelli said to me. “Get it out of my sight.”
I shoved Grandma back inside with the gun and closed the door. “I'll take care of it,” I said to Morelli. “I'll make sure it's returned to its owner.”
“So this ridiculous story is true?”
“Where were you? Why didn't you see any of this?”
“I was relieving Roche. I was watching the funeral home. I wasn't watching my car.” He glanced over at the Buick. “No damage?”
“Scratched the rear bumper.”
“Does the army know about this car?”
I thought it was time to remind Morelli of my usefulness. “Did you run a check on Spiro's guns?”
“They all checked out. Registered nice and legal.”
So much for usefulness.
“Stephanie,” my mother called from inside. “Are you out there without a coat? You're going to catch your death.”
“Speaking of death,” Morelli said. “They found a body to go with your foot. It floated into one of the bridge supports this morning.”