A moment later, my mother shrieked, and Bob bounded out of the kitchen and streaked through the dining room with a ham firmly clenched in his mouth. He skidded to a stop in front of my father and dropped the ham.
My grandmother ran in and scooped the ham up off the floor. “Thirty-second rule in effect,” my grandmother said, returning the ham to the kitchen. There was the sound of water running, and moments later, my grandmother reappeared with the ham on a plate. “Dinners ready,” she said. “Everyone sit.”
We dragged extra chairs to the table, and I shuffled plates and silverware around. Bob took his place under the table, ever on guard for food to fall out of someone's mouth onto the rug.
My mother brought in creamed corn, green beans with bacon, and mash
ed potatoes. She got to the table, looked at me, and her mouth dropped open.
“Booby-trapped attache case,” I said. “No big deal.”
She set the side dishes on the table and made the sign of the cross. “Dear God,” she said. And she returned to the kitchen. I heard the cabinet door creak open and moments later, my mother returned with a glass of whiskey.
“Isn't this nice,” my grandmother said. “It feels like a party. We even got the stalker here.”
My mother tossed some whiskey down her throat.
“Stalker?” my father said, mashed potato bowl in hand.
“Yep,” Grandma said. “He's a genuine stalker. He's even got a restraining order against him.”
My father considered that for a beat and went back to filling his plate.
Clearly, he didn't find a stalker to be especially interesting. Now, if Gary had been a cross-dresser, my father would have had something to work with.
“So how's the treasure hunt going?” Grandma asked Morelli. “Did you find all that money yet?”
This got everyone's attention.
My mother had a grip on her whiskey glass. “What money?”
“I guess I'm the only one who watches television,” Grandma said. “The early news ran a piece on the dead guy in Morelli's basement.”
“Why don't I know about this?” my mother asked.
“I guess I forgot to tell you, being that I was so busy answering all the phone calls,” Grandma said.
“You didn't kill him, did you?” my mother asked me.
“No! I just discovered the body.”
“The dead guy's name was Allen Gratelli,” Grandma said. “Stephanie broke into his car and found his suitcase, and that's how she got blue. And it turns out Allen Gratelli and Dominic Rizzi were friends, and the television reporter said Allen Gratelli was in Morelli's basement looking for all that money that was never recovered from the robbery. Nine million dollars, and Joseph's Aunt Rose, rest in peace, hid it somewhere and now everyone's looking for it.”
“Sweet,” Mooner said. “You could get high-def TiVo with nine million dollars.”
“I could get a lawyer for my mom,” Zook said.
“I could get a sports car,” Grandma said.
“You don't have a driver's license,” my mother told her.
“I could get a driver,” Grandma said. “A hot one.”
My father had his head down, shoveling in ham. My father would like to see the hot driver deliver Grandma Mazur to the old people's home in Hamilton Township.
“Maybe I could find the money,” Gary said. “I could divine it.”
“Dude,” Mooner said. “That would be awesome. Can you, like, really do that?”