“It isn't like it's a gift. It's a company car.”
“Yeah, right. When do I get to ride in it? You want to go to the mall tonight?”
“I don't know if I should be driving it for personal stuff.” In fact, I didn't know if I should be driving it at all until I made sure about the butt thing.
“You really think this is a company car?” Mary Lou asked.
“So far as I can see, everyone who works for Ranger drives a new black car.”
“A Porsche?”
“Usually an SUV, but maybe a Porsche happened to fall off the back of the truck yesterday.” I could hear screaming in the background. “What's happening?”
“The kids are having a conflicting opinion. I suppose I should go mediate.”
Mary Lou had started taking parenting classes because she couldn't get the two-?year-?old to stop eating the dog's food. Now she said things like “the kids are having a conflicting opinion” instead of “the kids are trying to kill each other.” I think it sounds much more civilized, but when you come right down to it . . . the kids were trying to kill each other.
I hung up and took the check Fred had written to RGC out of my shoulder bag and studied it. Nothing unusual that I could see. A plain old check.
The phone rang, and I put the check back in my bag.
“Are you alone?” Bunchy asked.
“Yes, I'm alone.”
“Something going on between you and that Ranger guy?”
“Yes.” I just didn't know what it was.
“We didn't get much chance to talk,” Bunchy said. “I was wondering what you were gonna do next.”
“Look, why don't you just tell me what it is you want me to do.”
“Hey, I'm following you around, remember?”
“Okay, I'll play the game. I thought I'd go back to the bank tomorrow and talk to a friend of mine. What do you think of that?”
“Good idea.”
It was close to five. Joe would most likely be home now, watching the news on television, fixing himself something to eat, getting ready for Monday Night Football. If I invited myself to his house for Monday Night Football, I could show him the check and see what he thinks. And I could ask him to check into Laura Lipinski. If things went well, maybe I could also make up for opportunities missed on Saturday night.
I dialed his number.
“Hey,” I said. “I thought maybe you wanted company for Monday Night Football.”
“You don't like football.”
“I sort of like football. I like when they all jump on each other. That's pretty interesting. So do you want me to come over?”
“Sorry. I have to work tonight.”
“All night?”
There was a moment of silence while Morelli processed the hidden message. “You want me bad,” he said.
“I was just being friendly.”
“Will you still be feeling friendly tomorrow? I don't think I'll be working tomorrow.”