Read Online Two for the Dough by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online
Authors: Janet Evanovich
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late this afternoon. Abandoned. No bodies in the trunk. No bloodstains. No Kenny.”
“Where?”
“The parking lot at the mall.”
“Maybe Kenny was shopping.”
“Unlikely. Mall security remembers seeing the car parked overnight.”
“Were the doors locked?”
“All but the driver’s door.”
I considered that for a moment. “If I was abandoning my cousin’s car, I’d make sure all the doors were locked.”
Morelli and I stared into each other’s eyes and let the next thought go unsaid. Maybe Kenny was dead. There was no real basis in fact to draw such a conclusion, but the premonition skittered through my mind, and I wondered how this related to the letter I’d just received.
Morelli acknowledged the possibility with a grim set to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said.
Stiva had formed a lobby by removing the walls between what had originally been the foyer and the dining room of the large Victorian. Wall-to-wall carpet unified the room and silenced footsteps. Tea was served on a maple library table just outside the kitchen door. Lights were subdued, Queen Anne period chairs and end tables were grouped for conversation, and small floral arrangements were scattered throughout. It would have been a pleasant room if it wasn’t for the certain knowledge that Uncle Harry or Aunt Minnie or Morty the mailman was naked in another part of the house, dead as a doorknob, getting pumped full of formaldehyde.
“You want some tea?” Grandma asked me.
I shook my head no. Tea held no appeal. I wanted fresh air and chocolate pudding. And I wanted to get out of my panty hose. “I’m ready to leave,” I said to Grandma. “How about you?”
Grandma looked around. “It’s still kind of early, but I guess I haven’t got anybody left to see.” She set her teacup on the table and settled her pocketbook into the crook of her arm. “I could use some chocolate pudding anyway.”
She turned to Morelli. “We had chocolate pudding for dessert tonight, and there’s still some left. We always make a double batch.”
“Been a long time since I’ve had homemade chocolate pudding,” Morelli said.
Grandma snapped to attention. “Is that so? Well, you’re welcome to join us. We’ve got plenty.”
A small strangled sound escaped from the back of my throat, and I glared no, no, no at Morelli.
Morelli gave me one of those ultranaive what? looks. “Chocolate pudding sounds great,” he said. “I’d love some chocolate pudding.”
“Then it’s settled,” Grandma announced. “You know where we live?”
Morelli assured us he could find the house with his eyes closed, but just to make sure we’d be safe in the night, he’d follow us home.
“Don’t that beat all,” Grandma said when we were alone in the car. “Imagine him worrying about our safety. And have you ever met a more polite young man? He’s a real looker too. And he’s a cop. I bet he has a gun under that jacket.”
He was going to need a gun when my mother saw him standing on her doorstep. My mother would look out the storm door, and she wouldn’t see Joe Morelli, a man in search of pudding. She wouldn’t see Joe Morelli who had graduated from high school and joined the navy. She wouldn’t see Morelli the cop. My mother would see Joe Morelli the fast-fingered, horny little eight-year-old who had taken me to his father’s garage to play choo-choo when I was six.
“This here’s a good opportunity for you,” Grandma said as we pulled up to the curb. “You could use a man.”
“Not this one.”
“What’s wrong with this one?”
“He’s not my type.”
“You’ve got no taste when it comes to men,” Grandma said. “Your ex-husband is a cow’s tail. We all knew he was a cow’s tail when you married him, but you wouldn’t listen.”
Morelli pulled up behind me and got out of his truck. My mother opened the storm door and even from a distance I could see the stern set to her mouth and a stiffening of her spine.
“We all came back
“Where?”
“The parking lot at the mall.”
“Maybe Kenny was shopping.”
“Unlikely. Mall security remembers seeing the car parked overnight.”
“Were the doors locked?”
“All but the driver’s door.”
I considered that for a moment. “If I was abandoning my cousin’s car, I’d make sure all the doors were locked.”
Morelli and I stared into each other’s eyes and let the next thought go unsaid. Maybe Kenny was dead. There was no real basis in fact to draw such a conclusion, but the premonition skittered through my mind, and I wondered how this related to the letter I’d just received.
Morelli acknowledged the possibility with a grim set to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said.
Stiva had formed a lobby by removing the walls between what had originally been the foyer and the dining room of the large Victorian. Wall-to-wall carpet unified the room and silenced footsteps. Tea was served on a maple library table just outside the kitchen door. Lights were subdued, Queen Anne period chairs and end tables were grouped for conversation, and small floral arrangements were scattered throughout. It would have been a pleasant room if it wasn’t for the certain knowledge that Uncle Harry or Aunt Minnie or Morty the mailman was naked in another part of the house, dead as a doorknob, getting pumped full of formaldehyde.
“You want some tea?” Grandma asked me.
I shook my head no. Tea held no appeal. I wanted fresh air and chocolate pudding. And I wanted to get out of my panty hose. “I’m ready to leave,” I said to Grandma. “How about you?”
Grandma looked around. “It’s still kind of early, but I guess I haven’t got anybody left to see.” She set her teacup on the table and settled her pocketbook into the crook of her arm. “I could use some chocolate pudding anyway.”
She turned to Morelli. “We had chocolate pudding for dessert tonight, and there’s still some left. We always make a double batch.”
“Been a long time since I’ve had homemade chocolate pudding,” Morelli said.
Grandma snapped to attention. “Is that so? Well, you’re welcome to join us. We’ve got plenty.”
A small strangled sound escaped from the back of my throat, and I glared no, no, no at Morelli.
Morelli gave me one of those ultranaive what? looks. “Chocolate pudding sounds great,” he said. “I’d love some chocolate pudding.”
“Then it’s settled,” Grandma announced. “You know where we live?”
Morelli assured us he could find the house with his eyes closed, but just to make sure we’d be safe in the night, he’d follow us home.
“Don’t that beat all,” Grandma said when we were alone in the car. “Imagine him worrying about our safety. And have you ever met a more polite young man? He’s a real looker too. And he’s a cop. I bet he has a gun under that jacket.”
He was going to need a gun when my mother saw him standing on her doorstep. My mother would look out the storm door, and she wouldn’t see Joe Morelli, a man in search of pudding. She wouldn’t see Joe Morelli who had graduated from high school and joined the navy. She wouldn’t see Morelli the cop. My mother would see Joe Morelli the fast-fingered, horny little eight-year-old who had taken me to his father’s garage to play choo-choo when I was six.
“This here’s a good opportunity for you,” Grandma said as we pulled up to the curb. “You could use a man.”
“Not this one.”
“What’s wrong with this one?”
“He’s not my type.”
“You’ve got no taste when it comes to men,” Grandma said. “Your ex-husband is a cow’s tail. We all knew he was a cow’s tail when you married him, but you wouldn’t listen.”
Morelli pulled up behind me and got out of his truck. My mother opened the storm door and even from a distance I could see the stern set to her mouth and a stiffening of her spine.
“We all came back
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