His eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight. Are you offering sex for the use of my truck?”
“Well, no, not exactly.”
“Then what are you offering?”
I didn't know what I was offering. I'd intended this to be sort of playful, but Morelli wasn't playing.
“I need a beer,” Morelli said. “I've had a really long day, and it's going to be even longer. I have to relieve Grossman in an hour.”
“Anything new turn up on Kuntz's car?”
“Nothing. ”
“Anything happen at the Seven-?Eleven?”
“Nothing.” He pulled on his beer. “How was your day?”
“Slow. Not a lot going on.”
“Who you want to watch?”
“Mrs. Nowicki. She moved back into her house. I went in to talk to her, and she was packing.”
“Doesn't mean she's going to take you to Maxine,” Morelli said.
I shrugged. “It's all I've got.”
“No, it's not,” Morelli said. “You're sitting on something.”
I raised an eyebrow. It said, Oh yeah?
Morelli chucked the empty beer bottle into the recycling bin. “This better not have to do with the counterfeiting case I'm on. I'd hate to think you were withholding evidence.”
“Who me?”
He took a step closer and pinned me to the counter. “So, how bad do you want my truck?”
“Pretty bad.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. “How bad?”
“Not that bad.”
Morelli gave a disgusted sigh and backed off. “Women.”
Sally was watching MTV, singing along with the groups, doing his head-?banger thing.
“Jesus,” Morelli said, looking into the living room, “it's a wonder he doesn't shake something loose.”
* * * * *
“I CAN'T loan you my car,” my father said. “It's gotta go in to get serviced tomorrow. I got an appointment. What's wrong with the Buick you're driving?”
“The Buick is no good for surveillance,” I said. “People stare at it.”
We were at the table, and my mother was serving out stuffed cabbage. Plop, onto my plate, four cabbage rolls. I opened the button on my shorts and reached for my fork.
“I need a new car,” I said. “Where's my insurance money?”