Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum 11)

I couldn't see Morelli in a Hummer. I thought Morelli was more suited to his Due. But of course, Bob couldn't ride on the Due. “Your Ducati wasn't in the garage,” I said.

“Where's the Ducati?”

“Getting new pipes and custom paint. No rush now. By the time I get the cast off it'll be too cold to ride.” The phone rang and I froze. “Don't answer it.” Morelli looked at the caller ID and handed the phone over to me. “Guess who.”

“Stephanie,” my mother said. “I have terrible news. It's about your sister. She's gone.” “Gone? Gone where?” “Disney World.”

I covered the phone with my hand. “My mothers been drinking,” I whispered to Morelli.

“I heard that,” my mother said. “I haven't been drinking. For goodness sakes, it's eight o'clock in the morning.”

“You have too been drinking,” Grandma yelled from the background. “I saw you take a nip from

the bottle in the cupboard.”

“It was either that or kill myself,” my mother said. “Your sister just called from the airport. She said they were all on a plane... Valerie, the three girls, and cuddle umpkins. And they were going to Disney World, and she had to disconnect because they were about to take off. I could hear the announcements over the phone. I sent your father over to her apartment, and it's all locked up.”

“So there's no wedding?”

“No. She said she didn't lose enough weight. She said she was sixty pounds short. And then she said something about cuddle umpkins having an asthma attack from her wedding gown. I couldn't figure out what that was about.”

“What about the reception? Is there a reception?” “No.”

“Never?”

“Never. She said if they liked Disney World they were going to live there and never return to Jersey .”

“We should get the cake,” I said. “Be a shame to waste the cake.”

“At a time like this, you're thinking of cake? And what's wrong with your new cell phone?” my mother asked. “I tried to call you, and it's not working.”

“It got blown up in Joe's garage.”

“Be sure to give me your new number when you replace your phone,” my mother said. “I'm sorry you didn't get to play the cello for everyone.”

“Yeah, that would have been fun.”

I disconnected and looked across the table at Morelli. “Valerie's going to Disney World.”

“Good for her,” Morelli said. “Guess that leaves the rest of the day open. It'll give you a chance to look up my pants leg again.”

Here's a basic difference between Morelli and me. My first thought was always of cake. His first thought was always of sex. Don't get me wrong. I like sex... a lot. But it's never going to replace cake.

Morelli topped off our coffee. “What did your mother say when you told her about your cell phone?”

“She said I should tell her my new number when I got a new phone.”

“That was it?”

“Pretty much. Guess your garage wasn't big news.”

“Hard to top the Mama Macaroni explosion,” Morelli said.

Last night, Morelli's garage had been cordoned off with crime-scene tape, and men were now carefully moving around inside the tape, gathering evidence, photographing the scene. A couple cop cars and crime-scene vans were parked in the alley. A few neighbors were standing, hands in pockets, watching at the edge of Morelli's yard.

I saw Laski cross the yard and come to the back door. Laski let himself in and put a white bakery bag on the table. “Doughnuts,” he said. “You got coffee?”

Two uniforms followed Laski into the kitchen.