“Come on in. I’m feeding little Anthony.”
Little Anthony was in one of those baby-?chair contraptions. Hard to say how old he was. All babies sort of look alike to me. He had a lot of orange glop on his pajamas, and he didn’t smell all that good. I was thinking I was smart to have a hamster.
Angie sat opposite Barfman, and I took a chair as far away as possible. She spooned some green stuff into him, and he gummed it around.
“So,” I said. “Are you going to take
him back?”
“Do you think I should?”
“No.”
Angie laughed out loud. “You’re not supposed to say that. Didn’t they give you a rehearsal?”
“You have a nice house. It’s cozy. It’s a family house.”
“I feel like the lady in the shoe who had so many kids she didn’t know what to do. We’re bursting at the seams.”
“Yes, but it feels good in here.”
Except for the kid with the spewed mush on his clothes. It was Saturday morning, and the rest of her pack was in front of the tele vision in the small living room. They were all eating cereal out of a box, not saying anything, mesmerized by what ever was on the screen.
“Is it easier without Anthony?” I asked her. “One less mouth to feed.”
“No. He’s great with the kids. Not like his father. His father was a mean, abusive drunk. Anthony is sweet. He’s just got too much machismo. All dick and no brain.”
“You love him.”
“Yeah. Stupid, huh?”
“Yes, but in a good way. God knows, someone has to love him. He’s pathetic. Did they tell you he got shot with a nail gun?”
Angie pressed her lips together. “He is such a jerk. He deserved to get shot. And I’m not letting him back in this house until the stitches come out. He’s horrible when he’s sick. He expects to be waited on hand and foot. A head cold is a major catastrophe for him.”
“So, you’re taking him back?”
“Probably. Someone has to haul the garbage out to the curb and shovel the walk, and it’s not going to be me. And maybe someday he’ll grow up, or get a prostate condition. He’d be terrific if he didn’t have gonads.”
“I guess my work here is done,” I said. “I have to go catch some felons now.”
Angie stood and walked me to the door. “It was nice to see you. Stop in anytime.”
I gave her a hug, walked to the Jeep, wedged myself behind the wheel, and called Morelli. “I talked to Angie,” I said.
“And?”
“There’s some good news, and there’s some bad news.”
“I hate this good news, bad news shit,” Morelli said.
“How about this. There’s bad news, and there’s bad news. Do you like that any better?”
“No.”
“She’s taking him back, but not until the stitches come out.”
“I don’t suppose you’d want to come over for dinner to night?”