Read Online 04 Four to Score by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online

Better to wait until dark, I thought. Two more hours and the sun would go down and everyone would move inside. Then I could skulk around in the shadows and, I hoped, not have to answer any questions.
    I returned to my apartment and found Joe Morelli sitting on the floor in my hall, back to the wall, long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He had a brown paper bag next to him, and the entire hall smelled like meatballs and marinara.
    I gave him the silent question look.
    “Stopped by to say hello,” Morelli said, getting to his feet.
    My gaze dropped to the bag.
    Morelli grinned. “Dinner.”
    “Smells good.”
    “Meatball subs from Pino's. They're still hot. I just got here.”
    Ordinarily I wouldn't let Morelli into my apartment, but it would be a sin against everything holy to turn away Pino's meatballs.
    I unlocked the door, and Morelli followed me in. I dumped my shoulder bag on the small hall table and swung into the kitchen. I took two plates from the wall cabinet and set them on the counter. “I'm having a hard time believing this is entirely social.”
    “Maybe not entirely,” Morelli said, close enough for me to feel his breath on the back of my neck. “I thought you might want a medical update on Maxine Nowicki's mother.”
    I put the subs on plates and divided up the tub of coleslaw. “Is it going to ruin my appetite?”
    Morelli moved off to the fridge in search of beer. “She was scalped. Like in the old cowboy and Indian movies. Only in this case, not enough was removed to kill her.”
    “That's sick! Who would do such a thing?”
    “Good question. Nowicki isn't saying.”
    I took the plates to the table. “What about prints on the knife?”
    “None.”
    “Not even Mrs. Nowicki's?”
    “Correct. Not even Mrs. Nowicki's.”
    I ate my sub and thought about this latest turn of events. Scalped. Yuk.
    “You're looking for her daughter,” Morelli said. Statement, not question.
    “Yep.”
    “Think there could be a tie-in?”
    “Two days ago I interviewed one of Maxine's friends from the diner. She had a big bandage on her hand. Said she'd whacked her finger off in a kitchen accident.”
    “What's this friend's name?”
    “Margie something. Lives on Barnet. Works the dinner shift at the Silver Dollar.”
    “Any other mutilations I should know about?”
    I tried some of the coleslaw. “Nope. That's it. It's been a slow week.”
    Morelli watched me. “You're holding something back.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    “I can tell.”
    “You can tell nothing.”
    “You're still mad at me for not calling.”
    “I am not mad!” I slammed my fist down on the table, making my beer bottle jump in place.
    “I meant to call,” Morelli said.
    I stood and gathered the empty plates and the silverware. CRASH, clang, clang! “You are a dysfunctional human being.”
    “Oh yeah? Well, you're fucking frightening.”
    “Are you saying you're afraid of me?”
    “Any man in his right mind would be afraid of you. You know that scarlet letter thing? You should have a tattoo on your forehead that says 'Dangerous Woman. Stand Back!' ”
    I stormed into the kitchen and slapped the dishes onto the countertop. “I happen to be a very nice person.” I turned on him and narrowed my eyes. “What's so dangerous about me?”
    “Lots of things. You have that look. Like you want to pick out kitchen curtains.”
    “I do not have that look!” I shouted. “And if I did it would not be for your kitchen curtains!”
    Morelli backed me into the refrigerator. “And then there's the way you make my heart beat fast when you get excited like this.” He leaned into me and kissed the curve of my ear. “And your hair . . . I love your hair.” He kissed me again. “Dangerous hair, babe.”
    Oh boy.
    His hands were at my waist and his knee slid between mine. “Dangerous body.” His lips skimmed my mouth. “Dangerous lips.”
    This wasn't supposed to be happening. I had decided against this.