Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

“Good point,” Morelli said. “But I'm not getting in the Buick. And you're not getting in it either.”

“I'll be careful,” I said. And I ran through the house, locking up behind myself. I got to the Buick, and I hesitated. I wasn't crazy about my life, but I wasn't ready to die. I especially didn't like the idea that my parts could be distributed over half the county. Okay, so what was stronger... my fear of death or my fear of not showing up at the rehearsal dinner? This one was a no-brainer. I unlocked the Buick, jumped behind the wheel, and shoved the key into the ignition. No explosion. I drove around the block, turned into the alley, and parked as close as I could to Morelli. I left the motor running and ran to retrieve him.

“You're a nut,” he said.

“I looked it all over. I swear.”

“You didn't. I know you didn't. You didn't have time. You just took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and got in.”

“Five minutes!” I shrieked. “I've got five friggin' minutes. Are you going with me or what?”

“You're unglued.”

“And?”

Morelli blew out a sigh and hobbled over to the Buick. I put the crutches in the trunk and loaded Morelli into the car with his back to the door, his casted leg stretched flat on the backseat.

“I guess you're not that unglued,” Morelli said. “You just spared a few seconds to look up my pants leg again.”

He was right. I'd taken a few seconds to look up his pants leg. I couldn't help myself. I liked the view.

I got behind the wheel and put my foot to the floor. When I reached the corner the Buick was rolling full-steam-ahead and I didn't want any unnecessary slowdowns, so I simply jumped the curb and cut across Mr. Jankowski's lawn. This was the hypotenuse is shorter than the sum of two sides school of driving, and the only thing I remember from high school trigonometry.

Morelli fell off the backseat when I jumped the curb, and a lot of creative cursing followed.

“Sorry,” I yelled to Morelli. “We're late.”

“You keep driving like this and we're going to be dead.”

I got there with no minutes to spare. And there were no parking places. It was Friday night, and Marsillio's was packed.

“I'm dropping you off,” I said. No.

“Yes! I'm going to have to park a mile away, and you can't walk with that cast.” I double-parked, jumped out, and hauled Morelli out of the backseat.

I gave him his crutches, and I left him standing on the curb while I ran inside and got Bobby V. and Alan. “Get him up the stairs and into the back room,”

I told them. “I'll be there in a minute.”

I roared away, circling blocks, looking in vain for a place to park. I looked for five minutes and decided parking wasn't going to happen. So I parked in front of a fire hydrant. It was very close to Marsillio's, and if there was a fire I'd run out and move the car. Problem solved.

I rolled into the back room just as the antipasto was set on the table. I took my seat beside Morelli and shook out my napkin. I smiled at my mother. I smiled at Valerie. No one smiled back. I looked down the line at Kloughn. Kloughn smiled at me and waved. Kloughn was wasted. Drunk as a skunk.

Grandma didn't look far behind.

Morelli leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Your ass is grass. Your mother's going to cut you off from pineapple upside-down cake.”

“This is the big day,” Morelli said.

I was slumped in a kitchen chair, staring at my mug of coffee. It was almost eight o'clock, and I wasn't looking forward to what lay in front of me. I was going to have to call my mom and tell her about the cello. Then I was going to have to give her the fire details. Then I was going to dress up like an eggplant and walk down the aisle in front of Valerie.

“Your big day, too,” I said. “You're Albert's best man.” “Yeah, but I don't have to be a vegetable.” “You have to make sure he gets to the church.”

“That could be a problem,” Morelli said. “He wasn't looking good last night. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't think he's hot on marriage.”

“He's confused. And he keeps having this nightmare about Valerie smothering him with her wedding gown.” Morelli was looking beyond me, out the back window to the place where he used to have a garage.

“Sorry about your garage,” I said. “And your SUV.” “Tell you the truth, it wasn't much of a loss. The garage was falling apart. And the SUV was boring. Bob and I need something more fun. Maybe I'll buy a Hummer.”