Read Online 20 Takedown Twenty by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janet Evanovich
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I could get to the liquor store.
He showed up precisely at five with his big shaggy dog, Bob, who rushed in and galloped around my little apartment, returning to the kitchen with his tongue hanging out. I gave him a bowl of water, he slopped it all over the floor, and then he flopped down in my living room to take a nap.
Morelli put a six-pack of beer and a bottle of red wine on my kitchen counter. “Pick your poison,” he said.
“I’m going with the wine. It’s more romantic.”
“That sounds hopeful. Are we getting romantic?”
“Maybe. Did you bring drugs?” I held my finger up for him to take a look. “Broken.”
“Compound fracture?” he asked.
“No.”
“Hardly worth worrying about.”
“It hurts!”
Morelli grinned. “Did you invite me over here to score drugs off me?”
“Not originally. I thought I might want to be more domestic, but now that you’re here I’m thinking drugs could be the way to go.”
“Why do you want to be more domestic?”
“I don’t know. It just came over me.”
“Is it that time of the month?”
“No!”
“Lucky me,” Morelli said.
I checked out the wine. Screw cap. The greatest invention since fire. I poured out two glasses and toasted the screw cap. Not easy to do with two fingers taped together and in a metal splint. I dumped the box of cutlets onto one of my new disposable broiler pans and shoved them into the hot oven.
“Easy-peasy,” I said to Morelli. “They’ll be perfect in fifteen minutes. The box wouldn’t lie.”
“I’m getting turned on by all this domesticity,” Morelli said.
This wasn’t an impressive admission. Morelli got turned on by lint.
I took the bag of vegetables out of the freezer and tossed them into my microwave. I figured I’d just cook the crap out of them until the chicken was done. I topped off my wine, and minutes later there was an explosion.
Morelli and I instinctively dropped to the ground.
“What the heck?” I yelled. “What was that?”
Morelli was on his back, laughing. “I think you exploded the vegetables!”
We got to our feet and looked in at the massacre inside the microwave.
Morelli was still grinning. “It’s like a crime scene.”
“It’s not funny.” A tear leaked out of my eye. “I’m a big stupid failure!”
Morelli wrapped an arm around me and hugged me intohim. “They were just vegetables,” he said. “Vegetables are way overrated.”
“I can’t do anything right.”
“Not true. You excel at many things.”
“Such as?”
“You give a damn good happy-ending massage.”
“That’s it? Sex? That’s my field of expertise?”
“It beats being able to cook a vegetable.”
I did an eye roll so severe I almost lost my balance. “I want to be able to do both.”
Morelli took another bag of vegetables out of my freezer and read the instructions. “Pierce the bag before microwaving.”
“I didn’t do that.” I swiped at my nose. “I’m too dumb to even read directions.”
“Anything else go wrong today?”
“I broke my finger.”
“Besides that.”
“I ripped my jeans when I fell down the stairs. Your grandmother said I was going to hell. A couple guys shot at me. I apprehended Ziggy Radiewski, and he peed himself.”
“So it was a normal day,” Morelli said.
I gave up a sigh.
“And you’re going to Bingo tonight?”
I nodded. “That’s why I need the drugs.”
Morelli took the chicken out of the oven. “The chicken looks good. What else do you have to eat?”
“Potatoes in the form of chips.”
“Works for me,” Morelli said.
We ate the chicken and chips, and Bob came over and pushed against me.
“Don’t feed him,” Morelli said. “He’s getting fat. I fed him before we got here.”
“Tell me about the latest Dumpster victim.”
“Not much to tell. She fit the profile. Seventy-six years old. Lived alone. Withdrew money from her bank account one day and dead the next. She was strangled and wrapped in a sheet. The details
He showed up precisely at five with his big shaggy dog, Bob, who rushed in and galloped around my little apartment, returning to the kitchen with his tongue hanging out. I gave him a bowl of water, he slopped it all over the floor, and then he flopped down in my living room to take a nap.
Morelli put a six-pack of beer and a bottle of red wine on my kitchen counter. “Pick your poison,” he said.
“I’m going with the wine. It’s more romantic.”
“That sounds hopeful. Are we getting romantic?”
“Maybe. Did you bring drugs?” I held my finger up for him to take a look. “Broken.”
“Compound fracture?” he asked.
“No.”
“Hardly worth worrying about.”
“It hurts!”
Morelli grinned. “Did you invite me over here to score drugs off me?”
“Not originally. I thought I might want to be more domestic, but now that you’re here I’m thinking drugs could be the way to go.”
“Why do you want to be more domestic?”
“I don’t know. It just came over me.”
“Is it that time of the month?”
“No!”
“Lucky me,” Morelli said.
I checked out the wine. Screw cap. The greatest invention since fire. I poured out two glasses and toasted the screw cap. Not easy to do with two fingers taped together and in a metal splint. I dumped the box of cutlets onto one of my new disposable broiler pans and shoved them into the hot oven.
“Easy-peasy,” I said to Morelli. “They’ll be perfect in fifteen minutes. The box wouldn’t lie.”
“I’m getting turned on by all this domesticity,” Morelli said.
This wasn’t an impressive admission. Morelli got turned on by lint.
I took the bag of vegetables out of the freezer and tossed them into my microwave. I figured I’d just cook the crap out of them until the chicken was done. I topped off my wine, and minutes later there was an explosion.
Morelli and I instinctively dropped to the ground.
“What the heck?” I yelled. “What was that?”
Morelli was on his back, laughing. “I think you exploded the vegetables!”
We got to our feet and looked in at the massacre inside the microwave.
Morelli was still grinning. “It’s like a crime scene.”
“It’s not funny.” A tear leaked out of my eye. “I’m a big stupid failure!”
Morelli wrapped an arm around me and hugged me intohim. “They were just vegetables,” he said. “Vegetables are way overrated.”
“I can’t do anything right.”
“Not true. You excel at many things.”
“Such as?”
“You give a damn good happy-ending massage.”
“That’s it? Sex? That’s my field of expertise?”
“It beats being able to cook a vegetable.”
I did an eye roll so severe I almost lost my balance. “I want to be able to do both.”
Morelli took another bag of vegetables out of my freezer and read the instructions. “Pierce the bag before microwaving.”
“I didn’t do that.” I swiped at my nose. “I’m too dumb to even read directions.”
“Anything else go wrong today?”
“I broke my finger.”
“Besides that.”
“I ripped my jeans when I fell down the stairs. Your grandmother said I was going to hell. A couple guys shot at me. I apprehended Ziggy Radiewski, and he peed himself.”
“So it was a normal day,” Morelli said.
I gave up a sigh.
“And you’re going to Bingo tonight?”
I nodded. “That’s why I need the drugs.”
Morelli took the chicken out of the oven. “The chicken looks good. What else do you have to eat?”
“Potatoes in the form of chips.”
“Works for me,” Morelli said.
We ate the chicken and chips, and Bob came over and pushed against me.
“Don’t feed him,” Morelli said. “He’s getting fat. I fed him before we got here.”
“Tell me about the latest Dumpster victim.”
“Not much to tell. She fit the profile. Seventy-six years old. Lived alone. Withdrew money from her bank account one day and dead the next. She was strangled and wrapped in a sheet. The details
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