Takedown Twenty(53)

“I can give you the website. There’s lots of online gambling sites, but mostly I only hear talk about this one that comes off an island in the Caribbean.”

I got the information from Grandma, finished my coffee, and stood to leave.

“You can stop ironing,” I said to my mother. “I don’t have cancer. I’m not pregnant. And Grandma isn’t gambling her Social Security checks away playing online Bingo.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” my mother said.



I left my parents’ house and drove past Joe’s mother’s house. It was only a few blocks away so it wasn’t a huge effort. I idled for a moment and moved on. There was no indication that Sunny had returned, and I wasn’t about to knock on the door without good reason.

My real destination was Victory Hardware. I was going to buy a vacuum cleaner. I had no idea if Victor carried them, but it seemed like a good place to start.

Snoot ambled up to me when I walked in. Snoot wasn’t nearly as old as Victor, but he had the same deeply lined dead-skin look of a lifelong heavy smoker. If I had to guess I would say he was in his forties. He was about six feet tall, and lanky, walking slouched and loose-jointed. His thinning brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail.

“Yuh?” he asked me.

“Is Victor here?”

“He stepped out to get us eats.”

“I’m looking for a vacuum cleaner.”

“We don’t have none of those. We had a couple of ’em years ago, but they took up too much space, so Victor never got any more in. If you want a vacuum cleaner you should go to the Hoover store two blocks down. You can’t go wrong with a Hoover.”

“There’s a Hoover store?”

“It’s part of the tattoo parlor. They sell Hoovers and sewing machines, and you can get a tattoo. I’ve seen some fine tattoos come out of there.”

“Did you know any of the women who were murdered and left in Dumpsters?”

“You mean like Mrs. Fratelli? She came in here all the time.”

“Did you know any of the others?”

“Nope. Don’t think so.”

“You didn’t kill them, did you?”

“Not that I remember.”

I drove two blocks and parked in front of Fancy Dan’s Tattoo Parlor. The front of the store had a vacuum cleaner display, and the back was given over to the tattoo business.

A heavily tattooed guy approached me and introduced himself as Fancy Dan. “I bet you’d like a rose tattooed on your shoulder,” he said to me. “I’m pretty good at knowing these things.”

“Not today,” I told him. “I want a vacuum cleaner.”

“Usually my wife sells the vacuum cleaners,” he said, “but she had to take the dog to the vet for his annual. Do you have carpet or wood floors?”

“Carpet.” I looked at the lineup of display vacuum cleaners and found one that was exactly like my mother’s. “I’ll take that one,” I said.

Ten minutes later I was on the road with my new vacuum. I took it home, plugged it in, and cleaned my apartment, wishing I could have the same success at cleaning up my life. My life was a mess. I had a crappy job, no car of my own, and too many men in my bed… at least mentally.

“I’m going to fix it,” I said to Rex. “I’m going to start with Morelli. I’m going over to his house and talk to him about our relationship. And then I’m going to apprehend the gang guy Connie just gave me, so I have money to buy a car.” I dropped a peanut into Rex’s cage. “I don’t know what the heck I’m going to do about getting a better job. It’s not like I have a bunch of amazing qualifications.”

By the time I got to Morelli’s house I had my speech all worked out. I had a slow cooker and a vacuum cleaner, and I had plans to get some throw pillows for the couch. I was ready to make a commitment. I didn’t want to be almost engaged. I wanted to be really engaged. I might even want to set a date. After all, I wasn’t getting any younger. If we were going to have a family we should get started. Probably Morelli would be relieved to have me force the issue. Probably he was sitting in his house all alone, nursing his gunshot wound. Poor guy. Just Bob and him.

I parked on the street, behind his green SUV. I rang the bell and let myself in. The television was blaring, and Kenny and Leo, two of Morelli’s cop buddies, were on the couch. There were beer bottles and chips on the coffee table.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Leo said. “He’s making up his famous wings.”

Bob was in the kitchen with Morelli, watching him carefully, hoping for a wing to drop on the floor.