“There's gotta be a hundred people in Joe's family alone,” Grandma said.
Joe was standing behind me. “I'm having a panic attack,” I said to him. “I can't breathe. My tongue is swelling. I'm going to choke.”
“Choking might be the best thing,” Joe said.
I looked at my watch. The viewing wasn't over for an hour and a half. My luck, I'd leave and Eddie would waltz in. “I need some air,” I said. “I'm going outside for a couple minutes.”
“There's people I haven't talked to yet,” Grandma said. “I'll meet up with you later.”
Joe followed me out and we stood on the porch, breathing in street air, happy to get away from the carnations, enjoying the car fumes. Lights were on and there was a steady stream of traffic on the street. The funeral home sounded festive behind us. No rock music, but plenty of talking and laughing. We sat on a step and watched the traffic in companionable silence. We were sitting there relaxing when the white Cadillac rolled by.
“Was that Eddie DeChooch?” I asked Joe.
“Looked like him to me,” Joe said.
Neither of us moved. Not much we could do about DeChooch driving by. Our cars were parked two blocks away.
“We should do something to apprehend him,” I said to Joe.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well, it's too late now, but you should have shot out a tire.”
“I'll have to remember that for next time.”
Five minutes later we were still sitting there, and DeChooch rolled by again.
“Jesus,” Joe said. “What's with this guy?”
“Maybe he's looking for a parking place.”
Morelli was on his feet. “I'm getting my truck. You go inside and tell Tom Bell.”
Morelli took off and I went to get Bell. I passed Myron Birnbaum on the stairs. Hold on. Myron Birnbaum was leaving. He was giving up his parking place and DeChooch was looking for a parking place. And knowing Myron Birnbaum, I was betting he'd parked close by. All I had to do was keep Birnbaum's space open until DeChooch came along. DeChooch would park and I'd have him trapped. Goddamn, I was so clever.
I followed Birnbaum, and just as I'd expected he was parked at the corner, three cars down from Stiva's, nicely sandwiched between a Toyota and a Ford SUV. I waited for him to pull out, and then I jumped into the empty space and started waving people away. Eddie DeChooch could barely see past the front bumper of his car, so I didn't have to worry about him spotting me from a distance. My plan was to save the space for him and then hide behind the SUV when the Cadillac came into view.
I heard heels clacking on the sidewalk and turned to see Valerie clippity-clopping over to me.
“What's going on?” Valerie said. “Are you holding a parking place for someone? Do you want me to help?”
An old lady in a ten-year-old Oldsmobile stopped short of the parking space and put her right turn signal on.
“Sorry,” I said, motioning for her to move on. “This spot is taken.”
The old lady responded by gesturing for me to get out of the way.
I shook my head no. “Try the parking lot.”
Valerie was standing to my side, waving her arms, pointing to the lot, looking like one of those guys who direct planes onto the runway. She was dressed almost exactly like me with the exception of a slightly different color scheme. Valerie's shoes were lavender.
The old lady beeped her horn at me and started creeping forward into the space. Valerie jumped back but I put my hands on my hips and glared at the woman and refused to budge.
There was another old lady in the passenger seat. She rolled her window down and stuck her head out. “This is our parking place.”
“This is a police operation,” I said. “You're going to have to park someplace else.”
“Are you a police officer?”