“Don't seem right not to pay my respects,” she finally said.
“Here's the deal,” Morelli said. “I'll go in and scope things out. If the lid is up I'll come get you. If the lid is down I'll drive you home.”
“I guess that sounds reasonable,” Grandma said. “I don't want to get torn limb from limb by the Macaronis for no good cause. I'll wait here.”
“And ask Constantine if he's seen Spiro,” I told Morelli.
Morelli got out, and Grandma took his place behind the wheel. We watched Morelli walk into the funeral home.
“He's a keeper,” Grandma said. “He's turned into a real nice young man. And he's nice looking, too. Not as hot as that Ranger but pretty darn close.”
Cars rolled past us on Hamilton. People parked in the lot next to Stiva's and made their way to the big front porch. A group of men stood just outside the door. They were smoking and talking and occasionally there'd be a bark of laughter.
“I guess you're unemployed again,” Grandma said. “You have any ideas where you'll go next?”
“I hear they're hiring at the sanitary products plant.”
“That might work out. That plant is way down Route One and they might not have heard about you yet.”
The light changed at the end of the block and cars began moving again. An SUV slid by us going in the opposite direction... and Spiro was behind the wheel.
I started climbing over the console. “Get out of the car,” I yelled. “I need to follow that SUV.”
“No way. I'm not missing out on this. I can catch him,” Grandma said.
“Buckle your seat belt.”
I opened my mouth to say no, but Grandma already had the car in gear. She shot back and rammed the car behind us, knocking him back a couple feet.
“That's better,” Grandma said. “Now I got room to get out.” She wheeled Morelli's SUV into traffic, stopped short, laid on the horn, and cut into the stream of oncoming cars.
Grandma learned to drive a couple years ago. She immediately racked up points for speeding and lost her license. She wasn't all that good a driver back then, and she wasn't any better now. I tightened my seat belt and started making deals with God. I'll be a better person, I told God. I swear I will. I'll even go to church. Okay, maybe that's not going to happen. I'll go to church on holidays. Just don't let Grandma kill us both.
“I'm coming up on him,” Grandma said. “He's just two cars ahead of us.”
“Keep the two cars between us,” I told her. “I don't want him to see us.”
The light changed at the corner. Spiro went through on the yellow, and we were stopped behind the two cars. Grandma yanked the wheel to the right, jumped the curb, and drove on the sidewalk to the intersection. She leaned on the horn, smashed her foot to the floor, and rocketed across two lanes of traffic.
I had my feet braced against the dash and my eyes closed.
“I have a better idea,” I said. “Why don't we go back to the funeral home? You wouldn't w
ant to miss hearing that the lid was up. And maybe it would be a good idea to pull over and let me drive, since you don't have a license.”
“I got him in my sights,” Grandma said, hunched over the wheel, eyes narrowed.
Spiro turned right and Grandma raced to the corner and took it on two wheels. One block ahead of us we saw Spiro right-turn again. Grandma stuck with him, and two turns later we found ourselves back on Hamilton, heading for the funeral home. Spiro was going to make another pass.
“This is convenient,” Grandma said. “We can see if Joseph is waiting for us.”
“Not good,” I said. “He won't be happy to see you behind the wheel. He's a cop, remember? He arrests people who drive without a license.”
“He can't arrest me. I'm an old lady. I got rights. And besides, he's practically family.”
Was that true? Was Morelli practically family? Had I become accidentally married?
My attention returned to Spiro, and I realized Grandma had closed the gap, and we were one car behind him. We sailed past the funeral home, past Morelli standing at the side of the road, hands on hips. He gave his head a small shake as we whizzed by. Probably best not to second-guess his thoughts… they didn't look happy.