Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

Kloughn started to sink to the ground, and Morelli grabbed him by the back of his coat. “What do you want me to do with him?” Morelli asked.

Here's the thing. I like Albert Kloughn. I wouldn't marry him. And I wouldn't hire him to defend me if I was accused of murder. I might not eventrust him to babysit Rex. Kloughn sort of falls into the Bob Dog category. Kloughn inspires maternal pet instincts in me. “Bring him inside,” I told Morelli. “We'll put him to bed and let him sleep it off.”

Morelli carted Kloughn into the house and up the stairs with Grandma trotting behind.

“Put him in the third bedroom,” Grandma said to Morelli. “And then let's get to the table. Dinner's almost ready, and I don't want to get a late start on the meatloaf. I gotta get to the viewing.”

“Over my dead body,” my mother yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

My father was already at the table. He had his fork in his hand, and he was watching the kitchen door, as if the food would come marching out to him without my mothers help.

A car pulled up outside. Car doors opened and slammed shut, and then there was chaos. Valerie, Angie, The Baby, and the horse were in the house, and the house suddenly got very small.

Grandma bustled down the stairs and took the diaper bag off Valerie's shoulder. “Everybody sit,” Grandma said. “The meatloaf's done. We got meatloaf and gravy and mashed potatoes. And we got pineapple upside-down cake for dessert. And we put lots of whipped cream on the cake.” Grandma eyed Mary Alice. “And only horses who sit at the table and eat their vegetables and meatloaf are gonna get any of the whipped cream and cake.”

“Where's my oogie woogie bear?” Valerie wanted to know. “I saw his car on the curb.”

“He's upstairs drunk as a skunk,” Grandma said. “I just hope his liver don't explode before we get you married off. You should make sure he's got life insurance.”

My mother brought the meatloaf and green beans to the table. Grandma brought the red cabbage and a bowl of mashed potatoes. I pushed my chair back and went to the kitchen to fetch the gravy and get milk for the girls.

Dinner at my parents' house is survival of the fastest. We all sit down at the table. We all put napkins on our laps. And that's where the civility ends and the action heats up. Food is passed, shoveled onto plates, and consumed at warp speed. To date, no one has been stabbed with a fork for taking the last dinner roll, but that's only because we all understand the rules. Get there first and fast. So we were all a little stunned when Valerie put five green beans on her big empty plate and angrily stabbed them with her fork. Thunk, thunk, thunk.

“What's with you?” Grandma said to Valerie.

“I'm on a diet. All I get to eat are these beans. Five boring hideous beans.” The grip on her fork was white-knuckled, her lips were pressed tightly together, and her eyes glittered feverishly as she took in Joe's plate directly across from her. Joe had a mountain of creamy mashed potatoes and four thick slabs of meatloaf, all drenched in gravy.

“Maybe this isn't a good time to be on a diet, what with all the stress over the wedding and all,” Grandma said.

“It's because of the wedding that I have to diet,” Valerie said, teeth clenched.

Mary Alice forked up a piece of meatloaf. “Mommy's a blimp.”

Valerie made a growling sound that had me worrying her head was going to start doing full rotations on her neck.

“Maybe I should check on Albert,” Morelli said to me.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him sideways. “You're going to sneak out, aren't you?”

“No way. Honest to God.” He blew out a sigh. “Okay, yeah, I was going to sneak out.”

“I had a good idea today,” Grandma said, ignoring the possibility that Valerie might be possessed. “I thought it would be special if we could have Stephanie play the cello at Valerie's wedding. She could play it at the church while the people are coming in. Myra Sklar had a guitar player at her wedding, and it worked out real good.”

My mother's face brightened. “That's a wonderful idea!” Morelli turned to me. “You play the cello?” “You bet she does,” Grandma said. “She's good, too.”

“No, really, I'm not that good. And I don't think it would work if I played at the church. I'm in the wedding party. I have to be with Valerie.”

Valerie was momentarily distracted from her green-bean stabbing. “It would just be while the people are walking in,” Valerie said. “And then you can put the cello aside and take your place in line.”

Morelli was smiling. He knew I didn't play the cello. “I think you should do it,” Morelli said. “You wouldn't want all those years of cello lessons to go to waste, would you?” I shot him a warning look. “You are so toast.”

Stephanie Plum 11 - Eleven On Top

EIGHT

“This is going to be a humdinger of a wedding,” Grandma said, returning her attention to her meatloaf and potatoes. “And it's going to be smooth sailing because we got a wedding planner.”

Morelli and I exchanged glances. The Kloughn wedding was going to be a disaster of epic proportions.