My mother wiped her hands on her apron. “The one next to that Freedom Church?”
“Yeah. You know anyone who lives there?”
“No. Margaret Laskey looked at an apartment there once. She said it had no water pressure.”
“How about the church? You know anything about the church?”
“Only what I read in the papers.”
“I hear that Reverend Bill is a pip,” Grandma said. “They were talking about him in the beauty parlor the other day, and they said he made his church up. And then Louise Buzick said her son, Mickey, knew someone who went to that church once and said Reverend Bill was a real snake charmer.”
I thought “snake charmer” was a good description for Reverend Bill.
I felt antsy through dinner, not able to get Mo off my mind. I didn't honestly think Andrew Larkin was the contact, but I did think Mo had been on Montgomery. I'd watched men his age go in and out of the mission and thought Mo would fit right in. Maybe Jackie didn't see Mo coming out of the apartment building. Maybe Jackie saw Mo coming out of the mission. Maybe Mo was grabbing a free meal there once in a while.
Halfway through the rice pudding my impatience got the better of me, and I excused myself to check my answering machine.
The first message was from Morelli. He had something interesting to tell me and would stop by to see me later tonight. That was encouraging.
The second message was more mysterious. “Mo's gonna be at the store tonight,” the message said. A girl's voice. No name given. Didn't sound like Gillian, but it could have been one of her friends. Or it could have been a snitch. I'd put out a lot of cards.
I called Ranger and left a message for an immediate callback.
“I have to go,” I told my mother.
“So soon? You just got here.”
“I have work to do.”
“What kind of work? You aren't going out looking for criminals, are you?”
“I got a tip I need to follow up.”
“It's nighttime. I don't like you in those bad neighborhoods at night.”
“I'm not going to a bad neighborhood.”
My mother turned to my father. “You should go with her.”
“It's not necessary” I said. “I'll be fine.”
“You won't be fine,” my mother said. “You get knocked out, and people shoot at you. Look at you! You have orange hair!” She put her hand to her chest and closed her eyes. “You're going to give me a heart attack.” She opened her eyes. “Wait while I fix some leftovers to take home.”
“Not too much,” I said. “I'm going on a diet.”
My mother slapped her forehead. “A diet. Unh. You're a rail. You don't need to diet. How will you stay healthy if you diet?”
I paced behind her in the kitchen, watching the leftovers bag fill with packets of meat and potatoes, a jar of gravy, half a green-bean casserole, a jar of red cabbage, a pound cake. Okay, so I'd start my diet on Monday.
“There,” my mother said, handing me the bag. “Frank, are you ready? Stephanie is going now.”
My father appeared in the kitchen door. “What?”
My mother gave him the long-suffering face. “You never listen to me.”
“I always listen. What are you talking about?”
“Stephanie is going out looking for criminals. You should go with her.”