Great. “Did they say anything else?”
“They called you the Bombshell Bounty Hunter.”
Maybe I needed an aspirin too. I dropped my shoulder bag on a kitchen chair and reached for the paper on the table. Oh, God, it was on the front page.
“The paper said the police were pretty sure it was a bomb,” Grandma said. “Only after the garbage truck fell on the car I guess they had a hard time figuring out what was what.”
My mother came into the kitchen. “Whose car is that parked in front of our house?”
“That's Stephanie's new car,” Grandma said. “Isn't it a pip?”
One of my mother's eyebrows raised in question. “Two new cars? Where are these cars coming from?”
“Company cars,” I said.
“Oh?”
“Anal sex is not involved,” I told her.
My mother and grandmother both gasped.
“Sorry,” I said. “It just slipped out.”
“I thought only homosexual men did anal sex,” Grandma said.
“Anybody with an anus can do it,” I told her.
“Hmm,” she said. “I got one of them.”
I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. “So what's new?”
Grandma got coffee and sat across from me. “Harriet Mullen had a baby boy. They had to do a C-?section on her at the last minute, but everything turned out okay. And Mickey Szajak died. Guess it was about time.”
“Are you hearing anything these days about Vito Grizolli?”
“I saw him at the meat market last week, and I thought he'd put on some weight.”
“How's he doing financially?”
“I hear he's making big money on that cleaning business. And I saw Vivien driving a new Buick.”
Vivien was Vito's wife. She was sixty-?five, wore fake eyelashes, and dyed her hair bright red because that's the way Vito liked it. Anyone who voiced a critical opinion got fitted with cement booties and accidentally took a dive into the Delaware River.
“I don't suppose there are any rumors going around about First Trenton.”
My mother and grandmother both looked up from their coffee.
“The bank?” my mother asked. “Why do you want to know about the bank?”
“I don't know. Fred had an account there. I was just fishing.”
Grandma stared at my chest. “You look different. Are you wearing one of them sports brassieres?” She looked more closely. “Hot dog. I know what it is. You're wearing a bulletproof vest. Ellen, look at this,” she said to my mother. “Stephanie's wearing a bulletproof vest. Isn't that something?”
My mother's face had turned white. “Why me?” she said.
NEXT STOP WAS Mabel's house.
Mabel opened the door and smiled. “Stephanie, how nice to see you, dear. Would you like tea?”