“And?”

“And I can't tell you more than that.”

“Any forty-five-caliber bullets embedded in bone?”

Morelli stared at me. Answer enough.

“Anything to implicate Mo?” I asked.

Another stare.

Morelli's eyes moved to a spot behind my left shoulder. I followed his eyes and found Ranger standing inches away.

“Yo,” Ranger said. “What's the deal here?”

Morelli looked to the store. “Somebody buried four guys in Mo's cellar. The last one was buried shallow.”

And he probably hadn't been buried so long ago, I thought. Like maybe the night Mo stole Ranger's car and smelled like sweat and dirt and something worse.

“I've got to move,” Morelli said. “I've got paperwork.”

I had to go, too. I felt like someone stuck a pin in me and let out the air. I fished car keys and a tissue out of my pocket. I blew my nose one last time and pumped myself back up for the walk to the car.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Ranger.

“Feeling fine.”

“Want to run tomorrow morning?”

He raised an eyebrow, but he didn't ask the question. “See you at six.”

“Six is good,” I said.

I was halfway home before I picked up the headlights in my rearview mirror. I looked again when I turned off Hamilton. The lights belonged to a black Toyota 4x4. Three antennae. Morelli's car. He was following me home to make sure I was safe.

I gave Morelli a wave, and he beeped the horn. Sometimes Morelli could be okay.

I drove two blocks on St. James and hit Dunworth. I turned into my lot and found a place in the middle. Morelli parked next to me.

“Thanks,” I said, locking the car, juggling the food bag.

Morelli got out of his car and looked at the bag. “Wish I could come in.”

“I know your type,” I said. “You're only interested in one thing, Morelli.”

“Got my number, do you?”

“Yes. And you can forget it. You're not getting my leftovers.”

Morelli curled his fingers around my jacket collar and pulled me close. “Sweetheart, if I wanted your leftovers you wouldn't have a chance in hell of keeping them.”

“That's disgusting.”

Morelli grinned, his teeth white against swarthy skin and day-old beard. “I'll walk you to the door.”

I turned on my heel. “I can take care of myself, thank you.” All huffy. In a snit because Morelli was probably right about the leftovers.

He was still watching when I entered the building and the glass door swung closed behind me. I gave him another wave. He waved back and left.

Tags: Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net