I thought this was a good deal. It used to be that people wanted to know when I was getting married.
“She's in the kitchen eating the rest of the cake,” my mother said. “She's probably got it topped with gravy. You could go in and talk to her. Tell her Albert Kloughn is a good man.”
“Valerie doesn't want to hear this from me.”
“What's it going to take?” my mother wanted to know. “German chocolate torte?”
The German chocolate torte took hours to make. My mother hated to make the German chocolate torte.
“German chocolate torte and a leg of lamb. That's my best offer,” she said.
“Boy, you're really serious.”
My mother grabbed me by the front of my shirt. “I'm desperate! I'm on the window ledge on the fortieth floor and I'm looking down.”
I did an eye roll and a sigh and I trudged back into the house, into the kitchen. Sure enough, Valerie was at the small kitchen table, snarfing down cake.
“Mom wants me to talk to you,” I said.
“Not now. I'm busy. I'm eating for two, you know.”
Two elephants. “Mom thinks you should marry Kloughn.”
Valerie forked off a huge piece and shoved it into her mouth. “Kloughn's boring. Would you marry Kloughn?”
“No, but then I won't even marry Morelli.”
“I want to marry Ranger. Ranger is hot.”
I couldn't deny it. Ranger was hot. “I don't think Ranger's the marrying type,” I said. “And there would be a lot of things to consider. For instance, I think once in a while he might kill people.”
“Yeah, but not random, right?”
“Probably not random.”
Valerie was scraping at the leftover smudges of whipped cream. “So that would be okay. Nobody's perfect.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “Good talk. I'll pass this on to Mom.”
“It isn't as if I'm anti-?marriage,” Valerie said, eyeing the grease and drippings left in the roasting pan.
I backed out of the kitchen and ran into my mom.
“Well?” she asked.
“Valerie's thinking about it. And the good news is ... she's not anti-?marriage.”
Streetlights were on when I cruised into my parking lot. A dog barked in a nearby neighborhood of single-?family homes, and I thought of Boo. Mrs. Apusenja told Ranger and me that she'd tacked lost dog signs up at local businesses and at street corners. The signs had a photo of the dog and offered a small reward, but there'd been no takers.
Tomorrow I'd track down Howie. It was my Spidey Sense again. I had a feeling Howie was important. Singh had been trying to call him. It had to mean something, right?
I let myself into my apartment and said howdy to Rex. I checked my phone messages. Three in all.
The first was from Joe. “Hey, cupcake.” That was it. That was the whole message.
The second was from Ranger. “Yo.” Ranger made Joe look like a chatterbox.
The third was a hang-?up.