“I haven’t seen him today,” Bertie said. “He doesn’t usually come in on Mondays.”
“Do you still think he should be high on the list of suspects?” I asked.
“He has motivation and anger,” Bertie said. “I don’t know if he could pull the trigger.”
I nodded agreement. That was my assessment too.
“Don’t fool yourself,” Briggs said. “Under the right circumstances anyone could pull the trigger.”
We finished the nachos, and Briggs was looking more mellow. His stiffie had deflated, and his teeth had stopped chattering.
“You’ve had a lot to drink,” I said. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Yeah, that would be great. I’m only about a mile away. I can walk back for my car tomorrow.”
“I thought you lived by the DMV.”
“That didn’t work out. I live on Poplar Street now.”
“Here’s the thing—I really don’t want you in my car naked.”
“I feel your pain,” Bertie said to me, handing over a big black garbage bag and some scissors. “See if you can dress him up in this.”
I cut holes in the bag for Briggs’s head and arms and dropped the bag over him. It came to below his knees. It was perfect.
Bertie looked down at Briggs. “The dude’s stylin’.”
TWENTY-TWO
IT WASN’T A sleepover night for Morelli so I went to bed in my most comfy, washed-out, ratty sleep shirt. I fell asleep when my head hit the pillow, and I wasn’t ready to wake up when the alarm went off. I fumbled for the clock, and as the fog of sleep cleared, I realized I wasn’t hearing the alarm. The phone was ringing.
I found my phone in the dark room and saw that it was my parents’ number. This jolted me wide awake because it had to be an emergency.
“What?” I said.
“Stephanie? It’s your mother.”
“I know! What’s wrong?”
“It’s your grandmother.”
Omigod. Grandma was dead.
“What about Grandma?” I asked, barely breathing.
“I think she has a man in her bedroom.”
“Excuse me?”
“I got up to go to the bathroom, and I heard talking. At first I thought she had her radio on, but then I realized it was your grandmother I was hearing. And a man.”
“What were they saying?”
“He was calling her his little honey bunny. It sounded like Bertie.”
I looked at my clock. It was two o’clock. Bertie was off work.
“What do you think I should do?” my mother asked. “I don’t want to wake your father. I don’t know what his reaction would be. It might not be good. How do you suppose a man even got into our house?”