umbled for the key.
“How scared is Spiro?” Morelli wanted to know.
“Scared enough to hire me to protect him.”
“Maybe it's just a ploy to get you into his apartment.”
I stepped into the entrance hall, flipped the light switch, and shrugged out of my jacket. “It's an expensive ploy.”
Morelli went straight to the TV and buzzed in ESPN. The Rangers' blue jerseys blinked onto the screen. The Caps were at home in white. I watched a face-off before bobbing into the kitchen to check my answering machine.
There were two messages. The first from my mother, calling to say she heard First National had openings for tellers and that I should be sure to wash my hands if I touched Mr. Loosey. The second call was from Connie. Vinnie had gotten back from North Carolina and wanted me to stop in the office tomorrow. Pass on that one. Vinnie was worried about the Mancuso money. If I stopped in to see him, he'd yank Mancuso out from under me, and give it to someone with more experience.
I pushed the off button, grabbed a bag of blue corn chips from the cupboard, and snagged a couple beers from the refrigerator. I slouched next to Morelli on the couch, setting the corn chips between us. Ma and Pa on a Saturday night.
Halfway through the first period the phone rang.
“How's it going?” the caller asked. “You and Joe doing it doggy style? I hear he likes that. You really are something. Doing both Spiro and Joe-boy.”
“Mancuso?”
“Just thought I'd call to see if you enjoyed your surprise package.”
“It was a real kick. What's the point?”
“No point. Just having fun. I was watching when you opened it in the hall. Nice touch bringing the old lady into it. I like old ladies. You might say they're my specialty. You'll have to ask Joe about the things I do to old ladies. No wait, better yet, why don't I show you firsthand?”
“You're sick, Mancuso. You need help.”
"It's your granny who's gonna need help. Maybe you, too. Wouldn't want you to feel left out. In the beginning I was pissed off. You kept bungling around in my business. Now I'm seeing this from a new angle. Now I think I could have a good time with you and Granny Halfwit. It's always best when you have someone watching, waiting their turn.
“Maybe I could even get you to tell me about Spiro, and how he steals from his friends.”
“How do you know it wasn't Moogey who stole from his friends?”
“Moogey didn't know enough to steal from his friends.”
The disconnect clicked in my ear.
Morelli was standing beside me in the kitchen, beer bottle dangling from one hand, looking casual, but his eyes were still and hard.
“That was your cousin,” I said. “He was calling to see if I enjoyed my surprise package, and then he suggested he might have some fun with me and Grandma Mazur.”
I thought I was doing a pretty good imitation of the tough-as-nails bounty hunter, but the truth is I was shaking inside. I wasn't going to ask Morelli what Kenny Mancuso did to old women. I didn't want to know. And whatever it was, I didn't want it done to Grandma Mazur.
I called my parents' house to make sure Grandma Mazur was safe at home. Yes, she was watching television, my mother said. I assured her I'd washed my hands, and begged off on coming back for dessert.
I changed out of the dress into jeans and sneakers and a flannel shirt. I retrieved my .38 from the cookie jar, made sure it was loaded, and slipped it into my pocketbook.
When I came back to the living room Morelli was hand-feeding a corn chip to Rex.
“Looks to me like you're dressed for action,” Morelli said. “I heard you lifting the lid on the cookie jar.”
“Mancuso made threatening sounds about my grandmother.”
Morelli pulled the power on the Rangers. "He's getting restless and frustrated, and he's getting stupid. It was stupid to come after you in the mall. It was stupid of him to sneak into Stiva's. And it was stupid to call you. Every time he does something like that he risks exposure. Kenny can be cunning when he's on top of himself. When he loses it, he's all ego and impulse.
“He's feeling desperate because his gun deal got screwed up. He's looking for a scapegoat, looking for someone to punish. Either he had a buyer who paid him some front money, or else he sold off a batch of shit before the bulk of it was stolen. My money's on the buyer theory. I think he's in a sweat because he can't meet his contract and the front money's been spent.”