Two for the Dough (Stephanie Plum 2)

“He's crazy.”

“Of course he's crazy. Everybody knows he's crazy. All the Mancuso men are crazy. His uncle Rocco hung himself. He liked little girls. Mrs. Ligatti caught him with her Tina. And then the next day Rocco hung himself. Good thing, too. If Al Ligatti had gotten hold of Rocco . . .” My mother shook her head. “I don't even want to think about it.” She shut the heat off under the potatoes and turned to me. “How good are you at this bounty hunter business?”

“I'm learning.”

“Are you good enough to catch Kenny Mancuso?”

“Yes.” Maybe.

She lowered her voice. “I want you to catch that son of a bitch. I want you to get him off the streets. It's not right that a man like that is free to hurt old women.”

“I'll do the best I can.”

“Good.” She took a can of cranberries from the pantry. “Now that we have things straight, you can set the table.”

Morelli showed up at one minute to six.

I answered his knock and stood blocking the doorway, preventing him from slipping into the front hall. “What is it?”

Morelli leaned into me, forcing me to take a step back.

“I was driving by, doing a security check,” Morelli said, “and I smelled leg of lamb.”

“Who is it?” my mother called.

“It's Morelli. He was driving by, and he smelled the lamb. And he's leaving. RIGHT NOW!”

“She has no manners,” my mother said to Morelli. “I don't know what happened. I didn't raise her like that. Stephanie, lay out an extra plate.”

Morelli and I left the house at seven-thirty. He trailed after me in a tan panel van and parked in Stiva's lot when I pulled into the driveway.

I locked the Buick and walked over to Morelli. “You have anything to tell me?”

“I went through invoices from the garage. The truck was in for an oil change at the end of the month. Bucky brought it in around seven in the morning and picked it up the next day.”

“Let me guess. Cubby Delio was gone that day. Moogey and Sandeman were working.”

“Yeah. Sandeman signed off on the job. His name was on the invoice.”

“Have you talked to Sandeman?”

“No. I got to the garage right after he left for the night. I checked his room and some bars, but I couldn't find him. Thought I'd make the rounds again later.”

“Did you find anything interesting in his room?”

“His door was locked.”

“You didn't look in through the window?”

“Thought I'd save that little adventure for you. I know how much you like to do that sort of thing.”

In other words, Morelli didn't want to get caught on the fire escape. “You going to be here when I close up with Spiro?”

“Wild horses couldn't drag me away.”

I crossed the lot and entered the funeral home through the side door. Word of Kenny Mancuso's bizarre behavior was obviously spreading because Joe Loosey, minus his penis, was laid out in the V.I.P. room and the crowd packed into the room rivaled the record-breaking viewing held for Silvestor Bergen, who died in the middle of his term as grand poo-bah of the VFW.

Spiro was holding court on the far side of the lobby, cradling the arm injured in the line of duty, making the most of his role as undertaker célèbre. People were clustered around him, listening intently as he told them God knows what.