Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel(17)

“I suppose that would be okay,” Grandma said. “How long do we have to keep him?”

“An hour or two.”

“As long as you pick him up by three o’clock. Your mother has a dentist appointment, and I’m getting my hair done for the viewing tonight. It’s going to be a good viewing what with all the scandal. The place will be packed. And people are going to be hoping to get a showing from Jimmy.”

Grandma and her lady friends went to viewings four days out of seven, whether they knew the deceased or not. The funeral home served cookies, was filled with flowers, and was the Burg’s premier place to be seen and swap gossip.

“I doubt Jimmy will make an appearance,” I said to Grandma. “And I can’t see him going to the funeral either. He’d be instantly arrested.”

“Well, I’m going anyway,” she said. “There’s nothing on television but reruns.”

“I’m going too. Even if Jimmy isn’t there, the place will be filled with friends and relatives. Do you need a ride?”

“Sure, I could use a ride. You could come for dinner, and we could go together. Your mother is making pot roast tonight, with chocolate cake for dessert.”

“I love pot roast and chocolate cake,” Briggs said.

“I guess he could eat here too,” Grandma said.

“You have to behave yourself,” I said to Briggs. “No growling, biting, or kicking.”

“Yeah, we don’t give out chocolate cake to biters,” Grandma said.

“Jeez,” Briggs said. “You make me sound like an animal.”

I set my hands on my hips and looked down at him.

“Okay,” he said. “I might have done some of those things in the past, but they were justified. I gotta compensate for my size. It’s not like I can punch a guy in the nose.”

“That’s true,” Grandma said. “He has a point.”

“Thanks,” Briggs said. “You’re all right for an old lady.”

“I’m not so old,” Grandma said. “I got some good years left.”

I had my hand on the door handle. “I have to go,” I said to Grandma. “Put the television on for him. Cartoons or something. And don’t give him the remote or he’ll sign up for porn.”

“Those porn films have the best titles,” Grandma said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some of them. I bought one once, but it was all naked girls and I wanted to see naked men.”



Morelli was already seated at a table when I walked into Pino’s. Pino’s is the restaurant of choice for most of the cops. It’s got a good bar, a small side room with a handful of tables, and a menu heavy on pizza and Italian American comfort food.

I sat across from him and glanced at the menu. It was a formality, because I knew the menu by heart. I’d been eating at Pino’s for years, and the menu never changed.

“Meatball sub,” I told the waitress. “And a Coke.”

“Same for me,” Morelli said.

He was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was about four weeks overdue for a cut, curling over his ears and at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were serious, but there was a sensual softness to his mouth. He looked like the movie star version of an undercover cop.

“Did you leave Briggs locked in the car?” he asked.

“No. I dropped him off at my parents’ house.”

“I was afraid I’d be eating lunch with him.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Morelli grinned. “What would you do to me?”

“All sorts of good things,” I said.

“And what can I do to you?” he asked.

“I have a list.”

“Am I going to get to walk my fingers down that list anytime soon?”

“As soon as I capture Poletti and get rid of Briggs.”

Morelli ate part of a breadstick. “I’m working on it. I have my own reasons for wanting to talk to Poletti.”

“Any leads?”

He shook his head. “No leads, but his wife invited me to come back anytime.”

“So it wasn’t a total loss?”

Another grin. “I’m saving myself for you.”

I mostly believed him, but truth is, Morelli just about leaks excess testosterone from his pores. We have a tense relationship that skirts permanent commitment but acknowledges the “L” word. I’m careful not to question him too closely on his sex life beyond our relationship, because if I ever found out he was sleeping with someone else I’d have to kill her. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t kill her, but I’d certainly buy out the candy aisle at 7-Eleven, eat it all, and throw up.

“Let’s change the subject,” I said. “Tell me about Ranger.”

“Ranger had Emilio Gardi in custody, waiting for extradition to Miami. Gardi apparently had some very bad stuff with him that he was going to use to take out Ranger and his whole operation. Something went wrong, and Gardi accidentally took the hit. One of the Rangeman guys is also pretty sick, but everyone else got out in time.”

“Gardi was a setup?”

“Looks that way. I don’t know all the details. The feds aren’t releasing any information on the contaminant, but Gardi and the Rangeman guy are in isolation and being treated for radiation poisoning. And the first responders said Gardi was screaming about polonium, begging for medical help.”