“It’s a Hawaiian tiki,” I told her. “Vinnie took it as security on a bond and I’m babysitting it because he didn’t want it in the office.”
“It’s cute,” Grandma said. “It reminds me of a big tater tot.”
I looked over my mother’s shoulder. “Pot roast?”
My mother nodded. “With mashed potatoes, green beans, and gravy.”
“And chocolate pudding for dessert,” Grandma said.
I set a plate for myself at the table and helped carry the food in.
“Have you heard any more about Geoffrey Cubbin?” I asked Grandma, taking my seat.
“Nothing about Cubbin,” she said, “but there’s talk going around that some residents of Cranberry Manor were planning to kidnap him and squeeze some information out about the money.”
“Do you have names?”
“Nope. Just the rumor. I heard about it at the bakery this morning when I went for coffee cake.”
I forked a slab of meat onto my plate. “Those people are pretty old. Hard to believe they’d be able to kidnap Cubbin.”
“They want their money back,” Grandma said. “And they haven’t got a lot to lose. If they get arrested it’s not like they’ll spend a lot of years in prison. Most of them have one foot in the grave already.”
I helped myself to potatoes. “I’ll go back to Cranberry Manor tomorrow and dig around,” I told Grandma. “See if you can get me a name.”
“You bet,” Grandma said. “I’m on the job.”
“Gravy,” my father said. “I need more gravy.”
My mother jumped up and scurried into the kitchen with the gravy boat. At first glance it would seem that she was waiting on my father, but truth is she was happy for an opportunity to go to the kitchen to refresh her “ice tea.”
My family doesn’t spend a lot of unnecessary time on body functions. We eat and we leave to do other things. My father has television shows to watch. My mother and my grandmother have dishes to wash and the kitchen to set straight. I helped in the kitchen and by seven-thirty I was on my way.
I had Tiki on the seat next to me guarding the bag of leftovers. I called Morelli and asked if he was interested in pot roast and chocolate pudding. He asked if I was delivering the food naked. I said no. And he said he wanted it anyway.
He was at the door when I parked. He was in his usual outfit of jeans and T-shirt. He had a five o’clock shadow going that was two days old. And he looked better than dessert.
I handed him the bag of food, he dragged me to him, and he kissed me with an indecent amount of tongue and ass grabbing.
“I haven’t got a lot of time,” I said. “I’m meeting Lula at nine.”
“I can be fast,” Morelli said.
“Not fast enough. I’m just dropping off.”
He looked in the bag. “Yum.”
“You used to say that about me,” I told him.
“Cupcake, you’re still yum, but we’ve got chocolate pudding here. That’s serious competition.”
I returned his kiss. “Gotta go.”
“Where are you going?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Morelli immediately turned from playful boyfriend to serious cop. “Tell me.”