14 Fearless Fourteen (4 page)

I put the pizza box on the counter, and the cellar door crashed
open next to me. A stocky guy jumped out, ran for the back door,
and instantly was gone into the dark night. I was too startled to
scream, too freaked to move. After a second or two, my heart
resumed beating and brain function kicked in.

“What the-” I said to the empty kitchen.

I heard footsteps on the stairs, and Morelli sauntered into the
kitchen. He was wearing a T-shirt and boxers, and his hair was
tousled.

“I thought I heard you come in,” he said. “How was Brenda? And
why is the back door open?”

I was breathless. “Some guy... some guy charged out of your
basement and ran out the back door.”

“Yeah, right.”

I had my hand over my heart in an effort to keep it from jumping
out of my chest. “I'm serious!”

Morelli went to the door and looked outside. “I don't see
anyone.”

“He ran away!”

Morelli closed and locked the door. “Someone actually was in my
cellar?”

“He scared the bejeezus out of me.”

“Anyone we know?”

“It was dark. He was chunky. Dressed in dark clothes. I didn't
see his face. It happened so fast, I didn't get a good
look.”

“Hair?”

“He was wearing a knit hat. I couldn't see his
hair.”

Morelli opened a kitchen drawer, removed a gun, and stepped to
the cellar door.

“Wait,” I said, “maybe we should call the
police.”

“Cupcake, I am the police.”

“Yes, but you're my police, and I don't want you to get
shot.”

“I'm not going to get shot. Stay here in the
kitchen.”

No problem with that. I had no desire to follow Morelli into his
spooky basement.

Morelli flipped the light switch and padded barefoot down the
stairs. He stood for a moment, looking around, and returned to the
kitchen.

“I can't imagine why anyone would be in my basement,” he said.
“There's nothing down there. Just the furnace and the water
heater.”

“Sometimes people have offices or playrooms down there,” I said.
“Maybe he was looking for something to steal.”

“My laptop is on the table. He didn't take it. He left the Xbox
and television in the living room.”

I took a piece of pizza from the box and tried to get it to my
mouth, but my hand was still shaking. “Maybe he didn't get to it.
Maybe he started downstairs, and I scared him off.”

Morelli dialed dispatch and reported the break-in.

“Ask someone to do a couple drive-bys and keep their eyes open,”
he said.

Bob trotted into the kitchen and stood looking at the pizza box.
He couldn't hear a burglar break into the house, but wave a piece
of pizza around and he was there. Pink and green fluorescent paint
glowed in the dark on Bob's back.

“The label on the spray paint said it would wash off with water.
I'll hose him down tomorrow,” Morelli said.

I fed Bob my crust, and Bob smiled and wagged his
tail.

Morelli draped an arm across my shoulders. “There's a way you
could make me look that happy.”

“Someone just broke into your house. How can you think about
sex?”

“I always think about sex.”

“Mario is in the guest room!”

“Yeah, you'd have to try to control yourself and not make a lot
of noise.”

“He's just a kid. You need to set a good
example.”

“Which means what?”

“The couch. Zook's in the guest room, and you wanted me to spend
the night, so I assumed you'd sleep on the couch.”

“You assumed wrong.”

“We're not married.”

“No, but we're old. There are different rules when you get old,”
Morelli said.

“I'm not old.”

“Not to me, but to Zook anyone over twenty is
old.”

“Okay, that does it. I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow
morning at the crack of dawn.”

“Oh for crissake,” Morelli said. “I'll sleep on the friggin'
couch. There's a sleeping bag in my office. Throw it down with a
pillow.”

I opened MY eyes and squinted at the clock. The room was dark,
but the glowing blue digital readout told me it was five in the
morning. And the sound of a drawer being opened and closed told me
I wasn't alone. I reached for the bedside lamp, switched it on, and
stared at Morelli. His hair was damp from the shower, he was
freshly shaved, and he was naked.

“What's going on?” I asked him.

“I need clothes.”

No kidding. “I would have gotten them for you. What if Mario
sees you walking around naked in my room?”

“First, it's not your room. It's my room. Second, I doubt he'd
be shocked. You have to stop worrying about Zook. Third, he's
asleep.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“No. The couch sucks.”

Morelli was dressing in his usual uniform of jeans and T-shirt
while he was talking. If the occasion dictated, Morelli sometimes
wore slacks and a dress shirt, but Morelli avoided suits. He looked
like an Atlantic City pit boss in a suit. And no one could keep a
straight face at Morelli in khakis. Morelli was as far from preppy
as a guy could get.

He sat on the bed, laced his shoes, leaned over me and nuzzled
my neck. “I like when you're all warm and soft from sleep.” He
looked down at the shoes he'd just laced and thought for a moment.
“These could come off.”

“Tempting.” Really tempting. “Will you be late for work if you
take your shoes off?”

“Yeah. Don't care. If the choice was a promotion and raise or
doing you and getting fired, there'd be no contest.”

“The power of testosterone.”

“I thought it was love, but you could be right... it could be
testosterone,”

Morelli said. “Not that it matters, because bottom line is ... I
want you bad.”

I had the T-shirt halfway over his head. “Take your shoes off .,
.fast,” I told him.

There were scuffling sounds in the hall and a timid knock on the
bedroom door.

“Anybody home?” Zook asked.

Morelli flopped spread-eagle onto the bed.
“Crap.”

“Uno momento,” I called to Zook.

“I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do,” Zook said from the other
side of the door. “Should I go downstairs and look for
cereal?”

“Yeah,” Morelli said. “Just prowl through the cupboards.
Stephanie will be down in a couple minutes.”

I was already out of bed and searching for clothes. I went with
one of Morelli's T-shirts and a pair of his sweats. I stayed over
from time to time, but I didn't leave a lot of things at his house.
Some underwear, socks, an extra pair of running shoes, some
unmentionable personal products.

Zook had a box of Frosted Flakes in his hand when I walked into
the kitchen.

“My favorite,” I said to him.

“Do you live here?”

“Sometimes.”

“So you could be my, what... aunt-in-sin?”

“It's my understanding that Morelli's some sort of distant
cousin, so technically ... I wouldn't be an aunt of any
sort.”

I took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and set out a
couple bowls.

Morelli waltzed in and got coffee brewing.

“You're up early,” Morelli said to Zook. “When do you have to be
at school?”

“Not until eight, but I didn't know how long it would take to
walk.”

“You're not walking,” Morelli said. “Stephanie's taking you to
school, and she's going to watch you go through the
door.”

“Dude, that's so untrusting,” Zook said.

“Yeah, deal with it.”

Bob was sitting, tail wagging, looking at the cereal box. I knew
Morelli had already walked and fed Bob, but that was meaningless in
the world of Bob. Bob was the bottomless pit when it came to food.
Bob was also the poster dog for canine graffiti art. I looked more
closely and realized the pink and green swirls outlined in black on
his back spelled out Zook.

“Pretty cool, hunh?” Zook said.

Morelli cut his eyes to Zook. “It's not cool. You painted my
dog.”

“Yeah, dude. He's awesome. And totally arcane.”

“What's arcane mean?” I asked.

“Magical.”

I thought I saw some steam starting to wisp out of Morelli's
ears and off the top of his head.

“Why don't you grab a doughnut and some coffee on the way to
work,” I said to Morelli. “I'll take care of everything
here.”

Morelli blew out a sigh and felt his pockets for Rolaids. “I
have to run anyway. Early morning meeting. See you tonight.” He
gave me a quick kiss and left the house.

When I heard the door close, I turned on Zook. “What the heck
were you thinking? You don't go around painting a man's dog without
his permission. You don't even do it with his permission. It's rude
and insensitive and... wrong!”

I was yelling and waving my arms, and Zook was calmly pouring
milk on his cereal.

I leaned palms on the table and got into his face. “Are you
listening?”

Zook looked up at me. “What?”

“I'm yelling at you.”

“I didn't notice. It sounded like dinner at my grandma's
house.”

Okay, I could relate to that. “Did you paint anything other than
Bob?”

“I sort of painted the garage.”

I went to the back door and stared out at the garage. It looked
a lot like Bob. Zook in bright pink and green, outlined in black.
Magical designs swirled around the name. It was glowing in the
semi-dark.

“Has Morelli seen this?”

“I don't think so. He didn't say anything.”

“You need to lose the paint before he gets home.”

“But it represents the power of Zook! It's my
portal.”

“What do you mean it's your portal?”

“Okay, so it's not a portal, but it could be
someday.”

“You're not serious.”

“That's the way it happens in the game.”

“This isn't the game.”

“Yeah, but Zook likes to keep in the zone.”

I squelched a major mental head slap. It could be worse, I told
myself. He could be spending his day surfing porn
sites.

I was still at the back door, and it occurred to me that I
wasn't seeing any sign of forced entry from last night. I went to
the front door and checked out the lock and the doorjamb. No forced
entry there, either. I went window to window. All locked and
intact. Hard to believe Morelli hadn't locked the back door. That
meant either someone let the intruder in, the intruder was good
with locks, or he had a key.

“Did you let anyone into the house yesterday?” I asked
Zook.

“The pizza delivery guy.”

“He didn't go into the cellar and stay there, did
he?”

“No. He left in his pizza car.”

I sat at the little kitchen table with Zook and ate a bowl of
cereal and drank my coffee. I had a bad feeling about the guy in
the cellar. And I didn't know what to do about Zook. He was pushing
his cereal around in his bowl, letting it get sogged up with milk.
He was frowning and chewing on his lip.

“What?” I asked him.

“Nothing.”

“It's something. What is it?”

“It's my stupid mother, sitting in that stupid
jail.”

“You're worried about her,” I said.

“It's all her own stupid fault. She robbed a stupid liquor
store. I mean, it wasn't even a bank. A bank, I could see. That
could be lots of money. My uncle robbed a bank and they never found
the money, and now he's out and he's gonna be on easy street. But
my dumb mother robbed a liquor store, and all she took was a bottle
of gin! And now my stupid relatives won't even bail her
out.”

“Connies working on it. Hopefully, we'll find a way to get your
mom out today. In the meantime, Morelli will look in on her and
make sure she's okay.”

“I don't ever want to grow up. Growing up sucks. People do
stupid things.”

“Growing up isn't so bad,” I told him. “What do you want to do
when you get out of school?”

He kept his eyes glued to his bloated cereal. “You'll think it's
dopey.”

“And?”

“I want to be an engineer and design roller
coasters.”

I was dumbstruck. “Wow. That's fantastic.”

“Yeah, except I'll never get into college because my grades
suck, and we have no money.”

“So fix your grades and go to a state school. That's what I did.
You could even try for a scholarship.” Morelli called on my cell
phone.

“Tell Zook, or whoever the hell he is today, that his mom says
hello. She isn't happy, but she's managing.”

“Thanks. I'll pass it on. Any information on last night?” “You
mean the break-in? No. No other disturbances in the
neighborhood.”

Connie was at her desk when I walked into the office. I dumped
my shoulder bag on the couch and cut my eyes to Vinnie's inner
sanctum. The door was closed.

“He's not here,” Connie said. “He's at a bail bonds conference
in Shreveport.”

“What's happening with Loretta Rizzi?”

“Not a damn thing. It's pathetic,” Connie said. “No one wants to
take a chance on her.”

“You could bond her out on her own recognizance.”

“Vinnie would kill me.”

“He wouldn't have to know.”

“Vinnie knows everything. He has this office
bugged.”

“I thought you debugged it.”

“He keeps hiding new ones.”

“I have to get Loretta out. Morelli and I aren't ready for
parenthood. If I was going to target one of her relatives, who
would be my top choice?”

“Her brother. He's got a stash somewhere. He stole nine million
dollars, and it was never recovered.”

“Do you have an address?”

“He's staying at his mother's house on Conway
Street.”

“I know the house.”

“You might want to take Lula. Word is he's
unstable.”

“Where is Lula?”

“Late. Like always.”

I caught a flash of red in my peripheral vision and Lula swept
through the front door. Her hair was still fire-engine red, and her
sweater, skirt, and shoes matched her hair.

“Speak of the devil,” Connie said.

“I ain't no devil,” Lula said. “I'm respectable, mostly. I'm an
engaged woman. I got a ring and everything. I told you I had a
feeling.”