Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum 8)

“He was sitting on the couch,” Irma said to Morelli. “Can you imagine? Just sitting there with the remote in his hand.” She shook her head. “That couch has death cooties now. I'd cry, too, if my couch had death cooties.”

“There's no such thing as death cooties,” Mrs. Karwatt said.

Irma looked over at her. “Would you sit on that couch, now?”

Mrs. Karwatt pressed her lips together.

“Well?” Irma asked.

“Maybe if it was washed real good.”

“You can't wash away death cooties,” Irma said. End of discussion. Voice of authority.

Morelli sat next to me, his back to the wall, too. Mrs. Karwatt left. And Irma left. And it was just Morelli and me and Rex.

“So what do you think about death cooties?” Morelli asked me.

“I don't know what the hell death cooties are, but I'm creeped out enough to want to get rid of the couch. And I'm going to boil the remote and dip it in bleach.”

“This is bad,” Morelli said. “This isn't fun and games anymore. Did Mrs. Karwatt hear or see anything unusual?”

I shook my head no. “Home is supposed to be the safe place,” I said to Morelli. “Where do you go when your home doesn't feel safe anymore?”

“I don't know,” Morelli said. “I've never had to face that.”

It was hours before the body was removed, and the apartment was sealed.

“Now what?” Morelli asked. “You can't stay here tonight.”

Our eyes locked, and we were both thinking the same thing. A couple months ago Morelli wouldn't have asked that question. I would have stayed with Morelli. Things were different now. “I'll stay with my parents,” I said. “Just overnight, until I figure things out.”

Morelli went in and grabbed some clothes for me and shoved the essentials in a gym bag. He loaded Rex and me into his truck and drove us to the Burg.

VALERIE AND THE kids were sleeping in my old bedroom, so I slept on the couch with Rex on the floor beside me. I have friends who take Xanax to help them sleep. I take macaroni and cheese. And if my mom is making it for me, so much the better.

I had macaroni and cheese at 11:00 and fell into a fitful sleep. I had more macaroni at 2:00 and more at 4:30. A microwave is a wonderful invention.

At 7:30 I woke up to a lot of yelling going on upstairs. My father was causing the usual morning bottleneck in the bathroom.

“I have to brush my teeth,” Angie said. “I'm going to be late for school.”

“What about me?” Grandma wanted to know. “I'm old. I can't hold it forever.” She hammered on the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there anyway?”

Mary Alice was making snorting horse sounds, galloping in place and pawing the floor.

“Stop that galloping,” Grandma shouted to Mary Alice. “You're giving me a headache. Go downstairs to the kitchen and get some pancakes.”

“Hay!” Mary Alice said. “Horses eat hay. And I already ate. I have to brush my teeth. It's real bad when horses get cavities.”

The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door opened. There was a brief scuffle, and the door slammed shut. Valerie and the two girls groaned. Grandma beat them to the bathroom.

An hour later, my father was out to work. The girls were off to school. And Valerie was in a state.

“Is this too flirty?” she asked, standing in front of me in a gauzy little flowered dress and strappy heels. “Would a suit be better?”

I was scanning the paper, looking for mention of Soder. “It doesn't matter,” I said. “Wear what you want.”

“I need help,” Valerie said, arms flapping. “I can't make these decisions all by myself. And what about the shoes? Should I wear these pink heels? Or should I wear the retro Weitzmans?”