I heard footsteps on the stairs, and Morelli sauntered into the kitchen. He was wearing a T-shirt and boxers, and his hair was tousled.
“I thought I heard you come in,” he said. “How was Brenda? And why is the back door open?”
I was breathless. “Some guy... some guy charged out of your basement and ran out the back door.”
“Yeah, right.”
I had my hand over my heart in an effort to keep it from jumping out of my chest. “I'm serious!”
Morelli went to the door and looked outside. “I don't see anyone.”
“He ran away!”
Morelli closed and locked the door. “Someone actually was in my cellar?”
“He scared the bejeezus out of me.”
“Anyone we know?”
“It was dark. He was chunky. Dressed in dark clothes. I didn't see his face. It happened so fast, I didn't get a good look.”
“Hair?”
“He was wearing a knit hat. I couldn't see his hair.”
Morelli opened a kitchen drawer, removed a gun, and stepped to the cellar door.
“Wait,” I said, “maybe we should call the police.”
“Cupcake, I am the police.”
“Yes, but you're my police, and I don't want you to get shot.”
“I'm not going to get shot. Stay here in the kitchen.”
No problem with that. I had no desire to follow Morelli into his spooky basement.
Morelli flipped the light switch and padded barefoot down the stairs. He stood for a moment, looking around, and returned to the kitchen.
“I can't imagine why anyone would be in my basement,” he said. “There's nothing down there. Just the furnace and the water heater.”
“Sometimes people have offices or playrooms down there,” I said. “Maybe he was looking for something to steal.”
“My laptop is on the table. He didn't take it. He left the Xbox and television in the living room.”
I took a piece of pizza from the box and tried to get it to my mouth, but my hand was still shaking. “Maybe he didn't get to it. Maybe he started downstairs, and I scared him off.”
Morelli dialed dispatch and reported the break-in.
“Ask someone to do a couple drive-bys and keep their eyes open,” he said.
Bob trotted into the kitchen and stood looking at the pizza box. He couldn't hear a burglar break into the house, but wave a piece of pizza around and he was there. Pink and green fluorescent paint glowed in the dark on Bob's back.
“The label on the spray paint said it would wash off with water. I'll hose him down tomorrow,” Morelli said.
I fed Bob my crust, and Bob smiled and wagged his tail.
Morelli draped an arm across my shoulders. “There's a way you could make me look that happy.”