Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

“Oh yeah, the cake. I ate the cake.”

“All of it?”

“Bob had some. I would have given some to Morelli, but he was sleeping.” She had her bag over her shoulder and her car keys in her hand. “I walked Bob about an hour ago, and he pooped twelve times, so he should be good for the night. I didn't feed him, but he ate one of Morelli's sneakers around three o'clock. You might want to go light on the dog crunchies until he hocks the sneaker up.”

Morelli waited until he heard Lula's car drive off before speaking. "Another

fifteen minutes and I would have shot her. I would have gone to jail for the rest of my life, and it would have been worth it."

I brought out the subs and the cole slaw and the potato salad. “Don't you want to know how my day went?”

He unwrapped his sub. “How did your day go?”

“I didn't get blown up.”

“Speaking of getting blown up, the lab took a look at your Buick. The bomb was very similar to the bomb that killed Mama Mac. The difference being that this bomb was detonated when you turned the key in the ignition, and it was much smaller. It wasn't intended to kill.”

“Spiro is still playing with me.”

“You're sure it's Spiro?”

“Yes. I stopped in to see Stiva. He had no idea Spiro was back. Said he hasn't heard from him since the fire.”

“You believed him?”

“Yeah.”

"I talked to Ryan Laski today. He's been working the Barroni case with me. I told him about Spiro, and I asked him to keep an eye on Anthony Barroni. And

I asked my mother about Spiro. So far as I can tell, you're the only one who's seen him. There's no gossip on Spiro circulating in the Burg."

At ten o'clock Morelli and I were still on the couch. We'd watched the news while we ate our subs. And then we watched some sitcom reruns. And then we watched a ball game. And now Morelli was getting that look.

“You have a cast on your leg, and you're full of painkillers,” I said to him. “One would think it would slow you down.”

“What can I say . . . I'm Italian. And that part of me isn't broken.”

“There are some logistical things involved here. Can you get up to the bedroom?”

“I might need motivation to get through the pain . . . like, seeing you naked and gyrating at the top of the stairs.”

“And what about a shower?”

“Can't take a shower,” Morelli said. “I'm going to have to lie on the bed and let you wash me . . . everywhere.”

“I can see you've given this some thought.”

“Yeah. That's why it's not just my cast that's hard.”

Okay, so this might not be so bad. I thought I could probably get into the naked gyrating and the washing. And it seemed to me I'd pick up some perks from the injury. Morelli wasn't going to be especially mobile with that heavy cast. Once I got him on his back he was going to stay there, and I'd have the top all to myself.

I'd set the alarm for 7:00 A.M. I didn't have to be at work until 9:00, but I had to shower and do the hair and makeup thing, walk and feed Bob, get Morelli set for the day, and make a fast trip back to my apartment in search of black clothes. And I needed to get Rex. He didn't require a lot of care, but I didn't like to leave him alone for more than a couple days.

Morelli threw an arm over me when the alarm went off. “Did you set it for sex?” he asked.

“No, I set it for get up.”

“We don't have to get up early this morning.”