“I was captured by Colombian rebels and tortured for three days, and it was better than that dinner.” He brushed feathers off his sleeve. “I don't know whether to have this cleaned or just throw it away.”
“You look like you wrestled a big chicken.”
He looked at my jacket and skirt. “Why aren't you covered with feathers?”
“I stayed away from Brenda.”
“I didn't have that luxury,” Ranger said.
“Yeah, I noticed. She was all over you.”
He took his jacket off in an effort to distance himself from the feathers, but he had feathers stuck to his shirt. “I don't usually have that problem. Most women are afraid of me.”
“Maybe she's not smart enough to be afraid of you.”
“More likely, she knows I'm no match for her,” Ranger said.
Ranger had offered the use of his bed, but I didn't think that was a good idea. I'd checked on Zook, and he was with my parents, sleeping in my old bedroom. I had my own apartment, but that held little appeal tonight. Truth is, I missed Morelli. I cruised by his house and the porch light was on, so I parked and went to the door. Locked. I tried my key. Wouldn't work. He'd changed the locks. That was a relief. I rang the bell and waited. I heard the dog feet first, clattering down the wood stairs. Moments later, Morelli opened the door. He was in socks and jeans and a T-shirt. His eyes were soft and sleepy and his hair was more unruly than usual.
“I was hoping you'd come back tonight,” he said. “I tried to wait up, but I fell asleep halfway through Letterman.”
He pulled me into the foyer and kissed me. “Did they feed you at the dinner? Do you need something to eat?”
“I'm starving.”
“Me, too. I want French toast.”
Morelli got the fry pan out and started it heating while I whipped eggs and soaked the bread. We sat at his kitchen table, and between the three of us, we went through almost a loaf of bread and a bottle of fake maple syrup.
I pushed back in my chair. “I see you've had your locks changed.”
“Probably I should have done it sooner. I never bothered when I moved into the house. For all I know, Rose could have given keys out to half the Burg.”
“So what was the deal with Bob in the backyard today?”
“I don't know,” Morelli said, “but I'm not happy. I don't like people breaking into my house, and I especially don't like them messing with my dog. I went all through the house, and I couldn't see where anything was taken. It occurred to me that someone might have been dropping off rather than picking up, so I had a crew go through looking for bombs, drugs, and bugs. Nothing was found.”
“I wish I could tell you more about the guy last night, but he caught me by surprise, and he was moving fast.”
“Do you remember hearing a car take off?”
“No. My heart was beating so hard all I could hear was my own blood pressure. What's happening with Loretta and Zook?”
“I thought it was best to leave Zook with your parents. Loretta is still in jail.”
“Have you had a chance to talk to her about the garage event?”
“No. Too many people listening. No privacy in jail. I'll wait until she's out.”
Okay, I knew I shouldn't be concerned. To begin with, Morelli had way too much testosterone as a kid, but he wasn't really a bad person. And besides that, he's an amazing guy now. He's smart and responsible and honorable and loving.
And it wouldn't matter if he had a son. It would feel weird, but it wouldn't matter. Having thought through all this, I was still a little freaked out.
“So what's your take on it?” I asked him, morbid curiosity winning out over trust and sensitivity. “Do you think it's possible that you're Zook's father?”
“I guess anything is possible, considering my hit-and-run lifestyle back then,” Morelli said, “but I can't see me doing it with Loretta. And I think Loretta would have come to me for help by now. Besides, I always used condoms. Even in high school.”
“You didn't with me.”