Lean Mean Thirteen

I followed Ranger in and the ominous feeling returned. There were still bloodstains on the floor, and the house had been tossed.

"Did it look like this when you were here?" I asked.

"No. Someone's been here looking for something, and they weren't subtle."

We went room by room, not disturbing the mess that had been made. Drawers were open, contents thrown onto the floor. Cushions were on the floor too, and some of them were slashed. Mattresses ditto. His office was more orderly only because it had clearly been carefully picked over. His computer was missing. His files were also missing. No way to know if they'd been taken by the police or by whoever ransacked the house. All messages on the answering machine were from Joyce.

"Time's up," Ranger said. "We need to get out of here."

We left the same way we came in. Ranger slid behind the wheel of the Caye

I reached Morelli on his cell. "It's Friday," I said.

"And?"

"Di

"Oh crap," Morelli said. "I forgot. I can't make it. I'm tied up here."

I didn't say anything. I just sat on the phone.

"It's my job," Morelli said. "You can't get mad at me for doing my job."

And that was true, but I didn't want to go to di

"Is that Bob barking?"

"Yeah, Bob's with me."

"So what kind of job is this?"

"It's a secret job."

"And when is this secret job going to be done?"

"I don't know. Hopefully soon."

"I could swear I hear television."

"Bob's watching a movie."

I hung up and looked at Ranger.

"No," Ranger said.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You were going to ask me to fill in for Morelli at di

"Roast chicken."

"You'll have to come up with something better than roast chicken."

"Do you have di

"Are you going to nag me on this?"

"Yes."

"What happened to the Stephanie who thought I was mysterious and scary?"

"Gone."

Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Ranger was still mysterious and scary at times-just not today, just not compared to my mother and grandmother.

Ranger parked in the driveway behind my father's Buick. "We need to be out of here at seven-thirty. If you tell Tank I did this, I'll chain you naked to the traffic light on Hamilton and Broad. And I'll shoot your grandmother if she grabs me."

I was pretty sure he was kidding about the traffic light.

"Isn't this something," Grandma said when she saw Ranger. "What a nice surprise. Is Joe coming too?"

"Nope," I said. "Just Ranger."

"Look here, Helen," Grandma called to my mother. "Stephanie's swapped out Joseph tonight."

My mother stuck her head out the kitchen door. "Where's Joseph?"

"Working," I told her.

"I'm just spooning out the gravy," my mother said. "Everyone sit down."

The doorbell rang and Grandma ran to get it. "It's him," she said to me. "It's my honey."

My father got out of his chair in the living room and took his seat at the table. "I don't care if he craps in a bag," he said to Ranger. "I'll give you a hundred bucks if you can scare him into marrying her and moving her into his room at the old people's home."

"They won't take him back," I said to my father. "He started a fire, and they kicked him out."

"Guess I look like I could still scare somebody," Ranger said to me.

"You look like you could scare anybody," my father said to him. "Don't you ever wear anything but black?"

"Sometimes white socks," Ranger said.

Ranger was smiling a little, and I was thinking he was getting into it, starting to enjoy himself.

"This is my honey, Elmer," Grandma said to everyone.

Elmer was dressed for the occasion in red plaid slacks and a white turtleneck that shoved his loose neck skin up so that it spilled over the top and looked like a turkey waddle.

"Howdy doody," Elmer said. "You have a peach of a home here. And just look at all these hot women I'm go

"Gripes," my father said.

My mother put the gravy boat on the table and poured herself a glass of wine.

"Elmer's taking me to the Benchley viewing tonight," Grandma said, taking her seat. "It's go

Elmer sat next to Grandma. "I read it was the pancreatic cancer that got him. He was a young guy too. Seventy-eight." Elmer reached for the potatoes and his toupee slid over his ear.

The small smile hovered at the corners of Ranger's mouth.

We were passing the chicken, gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, di

"Hey, how's it going," Joyce said. "I saw the car parked in the driveway, and I said to myself, I bet that's Stephanie's car. So I thought I'd come in and see how she was doing." Her eyes flicked to Ranger for a split second, and I was pretty sure I saw her nipples get hard behind the black leather.

My father was frozen in his chair with his fork halfway to his mouth. And Elmer looked like he'd just filled his bag.

"Give me your gun," I whispered to Ranger.

Ranger slid his arm across the back of my chair and leaned close. "Stay calm."

"Nice house you've got here, Mrs. P.," Joyce said. "You obviously have a talent for decorating. I could tell that by the fabric choice on the slipcovers in the living room."

Grandma beamed at Joyce. "I've always said that. She's got a real eye for picking out just the right thing."

"And you set an excellent table too."

"The secret is you gotta take the olives out of the jar and put them in a little bowl," Grandma said. "If you notice, we put everything in a bowl. That's what makes the difference."

" Ill try to remember that," Joyce said. "Put everything in a bowl."

Grandma turned to my mom. "Isn't it nice to see such a polite young person? Almost no one appreciates things today."

My mother tried to refill her wineglass, but the bottle was empty. "Darn," my mother said.

"We cooked up two big chickens," Grandma said to Joyce. "You could stay for di

Joyce wedged a chair between Grandma and Elmer so she could look across the table at Ranger. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"I'll get you a place setting," Grandma said, scraping back in her chair.

"Eddie Haskell," Ranger whispered against my ear, leaning in to me.

"What?"

"Joyce is doing Eddie Haskell from Leave It to Beaver. Eddie Haskell was the obnoxious kid who was always sucking up to the Cleavers."

"You watched Leave It to Beaver?"

"Hard to believe, but I didn't start out at age thirty. I actually had a childhood."

"Mind-boggling."

"Sometimes it boggles even my mind," Ranger said.

"What are you two whispering about?" Joyce asked. "And where's Morelli? I thought this was his gig."

"Joe's working," I told her. "Ranger volunteered to stand in."

Joyce opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and forked up some chicken.