Read Online 22 Tricky Twenty-Two by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online Page A

you,” he said. “Outside.”
    Crap. Talking to Morelli right now wasn’t high on my list of favorite activities. It came right between stick a fork in my eye and drink Drano. I mean, I really like Morelli. Actually, I
love
Morelli, but I had no clue what to say or think at this point beyond wanting to punch him in the face.
    “Sorry I didn’t call last night,” he said. “It was a busy night. Gangbanger drive-by, and then I pulled the Linken shooting.”
    “Lucky you.”
    “I had a brief conversation with Mrs. Linken last night just before she passed out. She said you and Ranger were supposed to be protecting them.”
    “We escorted them to the Getz viewing, but then we were off duty. When word went out that Doug Linken was shot, Ranger wanted me at the hospital to babysit Monica.”
    “Did she need babysitting?”
    “Mostly she needed vodka.”
    “Did you get anything useful out of her?”
    “Her big news was that she didn’t have the perfect marriage, and Doug had a lot of enemies. Do you think she could have shot him?”
    “It’s doubtful. It looks like the shooter was twenty to thirty feet away, shooting toward the house.”
    “Monica said she didn’t pay attention to the gunshots because she was watching
CSI
and there was a lot of shooting. I find that hard to believe, but maybe it’s possible. She went to the kitchen during a commercial and noticed the door was open.”
    “The first responders said it looked like Doug Linken went out to smoke.”
    “Monica said the same thing. They were trying to quit, but Doug wasn’t having total luck with it.”
    “So that problem’s solved for him,” Morelli said. “It’s too early for me to disturb the widow with questions. Would you like to go for coffee?”
    “No! I think you’re a jerk.”
    “I come by it honestly. It runs in my family.”
    This is true. All the men in Morelli’s family have been losers. All except Morelli. Somewhere in his twenties he’d managed to grow up. He was a really good cop, and until two days ago he’d been an okay boyfriend.
    “I can’t believe you’re thinking about a job change. I thought you loved being a cop.”
    “I’ve got acid reflux.”
    “I thought that was from
me.
”
    “Yeah, you too.” His cellphone buzzed and he checked the text message. “I have to go. They’re doing the autopsy on Linken first thing this morning, and I want to attend.”
    “Maybe
that’s
why you have acid reflux.”
    “Dead people don’t bother me. I worry about the living. Lately I’m thinking this planet is just a videogame designed to amuse an alien race with a sick sense of humor.”
    “Jeez.”
    Morelli pulled me close and kissed me with a lot of tongue. “Stay safe,” he said, releasing me, heading for his green SUV.
    He’d gotten the car so he could haul his big orange dog Bob around. It wasn’t brand-new, but it ran okay, and it looked pretty good except where Bob had gnawed a hole in the backseat. Bob had an eating disorder. Bob ate
everything.
    “Looks like a good day in Plumville,” Lula said when I went back inside. “You got a Mercedes from one hot guy and a smokin’ hot kiss from another, and it’s not even nine o’clock yet. What’s Morelli up to this morning that he had to rush off?”
    “Doug Linken’s autopsy is scheduled,” I said. “Morelli’s attending.”
    “That’s a fast-track autopsy,” Connie said. “Business must be slow at the morgue.”
    “I spotted Ken Globovic last night, but he got away,” I said to Connie. “He was at the corner of M Street and Hawthorne. I was hoping you could run his fraternity brothers through the system and see if anyone is living there.”
    “There’s a bar on that corner that got excellent onion rings,” Lula said. “I wouldn’t mind taking a personal look around that neighborhood at lunchtime.”
    “Works for me,” I said. “We can do a fast tour through Billy Bacon’s hood, hunt down Julie Ruley for a chat, and hopefully by that