Takedown Twenty(8)

“What a nice surprise,” Grandma said. “I was hoping something interesting would come down the street. The cable is out and there’s no television.”

I followed Grandma to the kitchen, where my mother was making minestrone. My mother is the middle child caught between my grandmother and me. She wears her brown hair in a soft bob. Her wardrobe is conservative, heavy on slacks and cotton blouses. Her Catholic faith is strong.

“Have you eaten?” my mother asked. “We have lunch meat from Giovichinni.”

“I’m good,” I told her. “I had lunch with Morelli.”

I set my messenger bag on the floor and pulled a chair up to the small kitchen table. Grandma brought the cookie jar over and sat opposite me. I lifted the lid and took out a Toll House cookie.

“Did you catch any bad guys today?” Grandma asked me. “Were you in any shootouts?”

“No and no.”

I didn’t look over at my mother for fear I’d see her rolling her eyes and reaching for the whiskey bottle. My mother isn’t big on shootouts.

“I’m looking for Uncle Sunny,” I said. “He skipped out on his bond.”

“He’s a slippery one,” Grandma said. “Are you having any luck?”

“No. Lula and I staked out his apartment, but we didn’t see any sign of him.”

Grandma ate a cookie and helped herself to another. “I’d stake out the girlfriend.”

“Sunny has a girlfriend?”

“He’s been seeing Rita Raguzzi for ten years,” Grandma said. “He’s a real ladies’ man, if you know what I mean, but word is he keeps his toothbrush at Rita’s house. He was seeing Rita years before his wife died.”

My mother and grandmother made the sign of the cross.

“His wife should rest in peace,” my mother said. “She was a saint.”

There were Raguzzis sprinkled all over the Burg. Emilio Raguzzi owned an auto body shop, and he and his wife lived across the street from Morelli’s mom. His two sons also lived in the Burg. I didn’t know Rita personally, but I’d heard she was living in Hamilton Township.

“I don’t know why you can’t get some other job,” my mother said to me. “Why can’t you get a job in a bank or a hair salon? I heard there was an opening at the deli on Hamilton. You could learn to be a butcher.”

My mouth dropped open and a piece of cookie fell out. I tried to stuff a chicken once and almost fainted. The thought of manhandling raw meat all day was enough to give me projectile vomiting.

“I hear butchers make good money,” my mother said. “They work good hours and everybody likes them.”

“And you’d get to be a real expert with a meat cleaver,” Grandma said. “You never know when that could come in handy.”

“I don’t think I’m butcher material,” I said. “And I sort of like my job. I meet interesting people.”

“You meet criminals,” my mother said. “And now you’re going after the most popular man in the Burg. Already I’m getting phone calls that you should leave Uncle Sunny alone. Everyone loves him.”

I took another cookie. “You just told me he was fooling around even when his wife was alive. That’s not a nice guy. And besides, he kills people.”

“He don’t usually kill people anymore,” Grandma said. “He’s getting on in years. He’s got peeps who do that now.”

“What about Stanley Dugan? Sunny is accused of murdering Stanley Dugan.”

“It could have been an accident,” Grandma said.

“He ran over him twice! And then Sunny got out and choked Dugan. There was a witness who videoed it all on his iPhone.”

“Well, Sunny shouldn’t have run over Stanley,” Grandma said, “but you gotta give him something for still being able to put in a day’s work.”

“I have a ham for tonight,” my mother said to me. “You could invite Joseph for dinner.”

I scraped my chair back. “That would be nice, but I’m working tonight.”

“I bet you’re chasing down a killer,” Grandma said. “Am I right?”

“I don’t very often chase down killers,” I told her. Unless you count Uncle Sunny.

“Then what’s up?” she asked. “Are you after a second-story guy? A car thief? A terrorist?”

“I have a date with Ranger, but I’m pretty sure it’s work.”

“I wouldn’t mind that kind of work,” Grandma said. “He’s hot.”

My mother pressed her lips together. Ranger wasn’t marriage material. Ranger wasn’t going to give her grandchildren… at least not legitimate ones.