When he got off the phone he picked at the deli ham I'd left out. “That case I was working on has just been reopened. Something new turned up. I'm going to take a fast shower, and then I'm going to have to go out. I'm not sure when I'll be back.”
“Today? Tomorrow?”
“Today. I just don't know when.”
I finished my sandwich and straightened the kitchen. Rex had crawled out of his soup can and was looking neglected, so I gave him a small chunk of cheese and a crust of bread. “We're not doing too good here,” I told him. “I keep losing people. Now I can't find the guy I'm working for.”
I tried calling Eddie Kuntz. No answer. I looked up Glick in the phone book and called Betty.
“Have you seen Eddie yet?” I asked.
“No.”
I hung up and did some pacing. Someone knocked on the front door.
It was a little Italian lady.
“I'm Joe's godmother, Tina Ragusto,” she said. “You must be Stephanie. How are you, dear? I just heard. I think it's wonderful.”
I didn't know what she was talking about, and I suspected it was better that way. I made a vague gesture toward the stairs. “Joe's in the shower.”
“I can't stay. I'm on my way to a jewelry party.” She handed me a white shirt box. “I just wanted to drop this off.” She lifted the lid and spread the tissue paper, so I could see what lay beneath. Her round face smoothed with her smile. “You see?” she said. “Joseph's christening outfit.”
Ulk.
She gave me a pat on the cheek. “You're a good Italian girl.”
“Half Italian.”
“And a good Catholic.”
“Umm . . .”
I watched her walk to her car and drive away. She thought I was pregnant. She thought I was marrying Joe Morelli, the man voted “least trustworthy male to date my daughter” by mothers statewide. And she thought I was a good Catholic. How had this happened?
I was standing in the foyer, holding the box, when Joe came down. “Was someone here?”
“Your godmother. She brought me your christening outfit.”
Morelli picked it out of the box and looked at it. “Good grief, it's a dress.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Put it in a closet somewhere, and I'd appreciate it if you kept the dress part quiet.”
I waited until Morelli was out of sight, and then I looked down at my stomach. “No way,” I said. I looked at the christening dress. It was kind of pretty. Old-?fashioned. Very Italian. Damn, I was getting all choked up over Morelli's dress. I ran upstairs with the dress, put it on Morelli's bed, ran out of the room and slammed the door closed.
I went to the kitchen and called my best friend, Mary Lou, who had two kids and knew about pregnancy.
“Where are you?” Mary Lou wanted to know.
“I'm at Morelli's.”
“Ommigod! It's true! You're living with Morelli! And you didn't tell me! I'm your best friend. How could you do this to me?”
“I've only been here for three days. And it's no big deal. My apartment burned up, and Morelli had an extra room.”
“You did it with him! I can hear it in your voice! How was it? I want details!”