Chapter Four

I was just closing out of the search program when Tank appeared next to my cubby.

"Heard on the scanner there's a situation downtown," he said.

"What kind of situation?"

"A body was found in a dumpster outside the 7-Eleven on Lincoln. Sounds like it might have something to do with your skip."

I bolted out of my chair and shrugged into my windbreaker. "Ranger know about this?" Tank nodded. "Let's go."

Tank and I piled into one of the SUV along with Hal and Butch. Butch was Ranger's height, tan, and built like the rest of the Merry Men. He was on loan from Rangeman's Boston office and specialized in surveillance. And that's about all I knew about him.

The SUV pulled up to a stop across the street from the 7-Eleven and Tank and I got out. The scene was marked off with yellow police tape and several cruisers were securing the area. Tank led the way. We ducked under the tape and made our way over to the crime scene as the coroner loaded the body into an ambulance.

"Clean?" Tank asked on of the officers. The officer nodded and Tank crouched by the dumpster. I stood behind him and looked around for Morelli. He was standing by the back of the building talking to one of the uniformed officers. Our eyes met and he made his way over to me.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Morelli said to me with a shake of his head.

"I half-expected it was you in there. I see you brought friends."

Morelli nodded in Tank's direction. "Ranger's orders," I said. "He worries."

"I worry, Cupcake."

"I know you do."

"But I don't send a guy out looking for you every time you run out for a box of tampons."

I narrowed my eyes on Morelli. He was wearing the same look I'd seen on Ranger earlier. The one that read, Warning: Testosterone Overload. Morelli ran his fingers through his hair. "Chrissake, Stephanie," he said. "When are you going to realize that one day your luck is going to run out? That you're going to piss off the wrong person, and they're not going to wait for you to run to Ranger before they take you out. It's going to be swift and it's going to be permanent."

"Hey!" I interjected. "I do not run to Ranger."

Tank appeared at my side and he and Morelli exchanged nods. "We're through here," Tank said to me. "I'll wait for you back at the truck."

"That won't be necessary," Joe said. I gave him a look. "I've been invited to dinner. I can give you a ride and we can leave from here."

"Okay," I said. Tank nodded and left. I waited around while Morelli finished up and then followed him to his SUV.

#

"Isn't this nice?" my mom said as she seated herself at the table.

Morelli looked over at me and said in a low voice, "Is that a rhetorical question?"

I elbowed him hard in the ribs and forked some green beans onto my plate. There were ten of us scrunched in behind a table built for eight. I was elbow-to-elbow with Morelli and my sister Valerie, who had just spent the last ten minutes discussing wedding decorations.

"The pumpkin won't work in winter. We were going to do green and red, but then Albert said something about Santa and Mrs. Clause and I got this image in my head of being married in a gingerbread house. So now we're going with blue. But there are so many shades of blue. Navy blue, midnight sky blue, cerulean, periwinkle . . ."

"I can't eat like this," my niece, Mary Alice, said. "I need a stall of my own, so I don't start kicking."

Mary Alice is two years younger than her sister, Angie. She is bright for her age of eight, and thinks she is a horse. We're hoping that last part's just a phase.

"Good horses don't kick," said Grandma Mazur.

"But I need a stall!"

"It's on back-order. Now finish your vegetables."

Mary Alice let out a vehement hmph and went face-down into her mashed potatoes. I guess horses don't need forks and spoons.

To my left, Valerie was tracking her points in a notebook.

"Do you think I should include gravy?" she asked me. "I mean, I only had a little bit. Two tablespoons. I measured. And it came from a powder, so I don't think it will be any big deal if I don't list it on here. Although it's probably full of sodium. And carbs. Oh, god." Valerie leapt up and ran to the kitchen. She came back with a plastic container, and began reading the ingredients. "This says twenty milligrams of sodium, but that's for halfa-cup, prepared. So that means I should add point-seven-two-nine points to my daily log."

Valerie marked it down and looked satisfied. I looked back at my own plate, which was still nearly full. The only things I'd gone through had been the potatoes and the carrots. I'd had two servings of each, but left the rest untouched. Am I good at this dieting thing, or what?

After dinner, my mom went to the kitchen and returned with the cake and ten dessert plates. She cut a large wedge and placed it in front of me.

"None, for me, thanks," I said. "I'm dieting."

There was a collective hush around the table. Morelli was frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth. My mother had to hold onto the back of a chair to steady herself. Refusing dessert was the Burg equivalent to the first plague, a sign of the coming apocalypse.

Valerie leaned over and said, "Don't sweat it, Steph. Just count your points. Look, I can eat this much" Valerie cut her piece of tart in half "and not have to worry about gaining any weight back. It's totally foolproof."

"That's great, Valerie, but I'm fine. Really."

Everyone just sat there, looking at me. Mary Alice had mashed potatoes in her hair, and still they were staring at me. I turned to Joe for support.

"Cupcake, if you want the cake, eat it."

"But I don't want the-"

"Is it bitter?" my mother asked. "Did I bake it too long? Nobody touch the cake.

The cake is bad. There's something wrong with it."

"Maybe it's one of them bounty hunter things," Grandma said to Albert Kloughn. "You think she smelled arsenic? Like maybe they can't bomb her car anymore, on account of it being in a secured lot. So now they gotta poison her dessert. Hey, Steph, did you smell arsenic?"

"You can't smell arsenic," I told her. Joe gave me a curious look. "I saw it on Law & Order once."

My father mumbled something that sounded a lot like damn cuckoo's nest, and went back to his cake.

Finally, I'd had enough. Screw the stupid cake. "Alright," I yelled. "I'll eat the cake. All eat the whole damn thing. Gimme."

I jerked my dessert plate away from my mother and started forking it in. I practically put the plate up to my mouth and gobbled the whole thing up in one bite. Morelli was looking at me in goggle-eyed amazement. Probably I'd put a few X-rated ideas into his head. I force-swallowed the last bite just like those people on reality shows who eat cow eyeballs and pushed the plate away. My mouth felt bitter. Sour. I took in a deep breath and held it.

Then I jumped out of my seat and made for the upstairs bathroom. When I was done, I gargled with Listerine and called Morelli on his cell phone.

"Tell them this is work and we have to leave," I said when he answered. "Do it now."

He had our coats ready when I came downstairs.

"Oh, are we leaving?" I asked, feigning surprise.

Morelli gave me a look that told me I was going to hell. Then he said, "Something came up."

"Probably it was a murder," Grandma Mazur said.

"More like, hoping to prevent one," he said.

"Good thinking," said Grandma. "Hey, what's all this whispering about?"

My mother and Valerie were standing by the sink, drying dishes. They looked like they'd been caught using Ranger's shower massager. Valerie looked at my mother and my mother nodded. Then Valerie took a deep breath and said, "We think Stephanie's bulimic."

I reached into my bag for my gun but Morelli caught my arm in time. "Fifteen to twenty," he said. "Unless you can prove justifiable homicide."

"Does this qualify?"

"Not yet."

Grandma chimed in. "She's not bulimic, Helen. She's pregnant."

Morelli let go of my arm. "Aim high and make it look like an accident. We'll say she came after you with a knife."

My father groaned. My mother crossed herself. Grandma continued, "I saw her at Eckerd this morning when I went with Mabel to refill her Vioxx. Picked up one of them EPTs and paid with a twenty."

My mother pulled a bottle of amber liquid from the cupboard and splashed some in a glass, and downed it. Then she crossed herself again.

"Is this true, Steph?" Valerie wanted to know.

"Yes, but-"

Morelli looked at me expectantly. "For the love of God, tell me you're bulimic."

"What? No! I'm not bulimic!"

Valerie let out a squee and pulled me into a hug. "How long have you known?" she asked, feeling my abdomen. "From the looks of it, I'd say you're at least four weeks. Maybe more."

"Is it his?" Grandma wanted to know, jerking her head toward Morelli.

My mother sucked in a deep breath and held it. "Of course it is," she said with rising indignation. "Who else's would it be?"

Grandma shrugged. "I figured she might've went and boffed that Ranger guy." The room went silent. "What? If I was twenty years younger, I'd be all over that."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of." Albert Kloughn stepped forward, wiping sweat from his face with the tail of his shirt. "I mean, look at Valerie and me. We weren't married when we...boffed."

"I'm not boffing anyone!" I yelled.

"Oh, well. That's okay, too," Albert said. "I hadn't boffed anyone before Valerie. Except for that one time in Vegas. My friends had all chipped in to buy me this..." He stopped short and gulped. "What I mean is, I figured it out. I'm sure you'll do fine. Just make sure the condom isn't dripping when you're done."

Mary Alice galloped through, neighing and pawing the ground with her feet.

"Boff! Boff! Boff!" She neighed again. "Do horses boff?"

"Horses boff from behind," said Grandma. "Now go back upstairs with your sister and let the grown-ups talk."

Somewhere in the living room, my father turned the volume on the TV up full blast. My mother sunk into one of the dining room chairs, clutching her hand to her heart. I had to physically assault Valerie so she would leave my stomach alone. And Morelli was standing immobile, looking like he'd just gotten a swift kick to the gonads. All in all, a typical family dinner.

I put two fingers to my mouth and whistled. "Enough!" I said once I had everyone's attention. "I'm not boffing anyone. And I'm not pregnant. Mary Lou needed a test, so I dropped it off. She's the one having the baby."

I turned to Morelli. Some of the color had returned to his face, but his eyes were still the size of goose eggs. "I need some air," he said. Then he stepped outside, angled into his truck, and sped off toward the end of the street.

I waited on the stoop for him to double-back. Grandma stuck her head out the door. "What are you doing out here?"

"I needed a cigarette."

"You don't smoke. And it's a good thing, too. Bad for the baby."

I glared at Grandma, zipped my windbreaker, and pulled my knees to my chest.

"Suit yourself," she said.

At half-past nine, I flipped open my cell and dialed Ranger.

"Yo."

"I need a ride."

"Bad date?" He sounded amused.

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"Where are you now?"

"At my parents'."

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I'll send Tank. He'll be there in ten."

"Coward."

There was a click and Ranger dropped off the line.

I was still waiting on the stoop for Tank's SUV when I heard the soft purr of a Porsche. The Turbo glided to a stop in front of my parents' duplex and the tinted passenger-side window slid down. Ranger was behind the wheel. I melted into the comfy leather seats and fastened the seatbelt around my waist.

"I thought you were sending Tank," I said.

Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling. "I thought maybe you were in the mood for company. Tank snores."

"That's very considerate of you."

Ranger reached over and put a hand on my thigh. "Where to?"

We were paused at an intersection. If we went left, we would end up at my apartment. If we went right, we would pass by the Rangeman office. My apartment had the home-court advantage. Ranger's had that amazing shower. Both held a high probability that I would wake up with my panties on the floor.

I shrugged. Ranger turned right and I grew warm in all the right places. He pulled into the underground lot and eased into his parking space. We rode the elevator to the top floor and by the time he'd gotten the key in the lock, he was rounding third. I stepped out of my pants somewhere between the foyer and the living room, and had a strong suspicion my bra was still in the elevator. That's what sucks about being the only woman working for Ranger besides his housekeeper. Every time a pair of underwear is left in the elevator, or a peanut butter sandwich found under the seat of the SUV, I get the blame.

He pulled me to him and lifted my shirt over my head. Then he leaned forward and whispered some of the things he wanted to do and my knees nearly gave way. Ranger knew how to party.

We made it into Ranger's bedroom and I watched him as he stripped. I knew for a fact he carried at least two guns and a knife, but the only one I could find was the Glock holstered on his hip. I figured the knife could be hidden somewhere in his boot. I decided not to think about the other gun.

He lowered me onto the bed and kissed his way down my body. He looped a finger around the waistband of my panties and I lifted my hips as he inched them down. There were a lot of things Ranger did well. My favorite thing happened to be one of them. He slipped my panties over my knees and tossed them on the floor behind him. Then he kissed his way up the inside of my thigh and swirled his tongue over that spot, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. When he was done, he made his way back up until we were eye level. He kissed me again and asked, "Bottom or top?"