'Hey, man, thanks for getting the charges dropped,' Sally said. 'I got a call from the court. And then Sklar called me just to make sure I wasn't gonna go ahead with the lawyer. I didn't know what to say at first, but I just went with it. It was real good.'

I put the cheese and lunch meat in the fridge, and I set the coffee cake on the table. 'Glad it worked out.'

'So what do you think of the dresses?' Valerie wanted to know.

'Are you sure you want to have a big wedding?' I asked Valerie.

'It seems like a lot of work and expense. And who will you have for bridesmaids?'

'You'll be my maid of honor. And then there's Loretta Stone-houser. And Rita Metzger. And Margaret Durski as bridesmaids. And the girls can be junior bridesmaids.'

'I'm thinking pumpkin would be a good color for the bridesmaids' gowns,' Sally said.

I cut myself a large wedge of coffee cake. It was going to take a lot of cake to improve my mood on the pumpkin gown.

'You know what we need?' Grandma said. 'We need a wedding planner. Like that movie. Remember where Jennifer Lopez is the wedding planner?'

'I could use help,' Valerie said. It's hard to find the time for everything, but I don't think I can afford a wedding planner.'

'Maybe I could help plan the wedding,' Sally said. 'I have extra time between my bus runs.'

'You'd be a perfect wedding planner,' Grandma said. 'You have a real eye for color, and you got ideas about all that seasonal stuff.

I would never have thought to have pumpkin gowns.'

'It's settled then. You're the wedding planner,' Valerie said.

My mother's attention wandered to the pantry. She might have been taking a mental inventory, but more likely, she was contemplating the whiskey bottle hidden behind the olive oil.

'How's the house search going?' I asked Valerie. 'Any luck?'

'I haven't had a lot of time to put to it,' she said. 'But I promise to start looking.'

'I sort of miss my apartment.'

'I know,' Val said. I'm really sorry this is taking so long. Maybe we should move back here with Mom and Dad.'

My mother's back went rigid at the stove. First the wedding planner and now this.

I cut another piece of cake and headed out. 'I have to go. Joe's waiting.'

Joe and Bob were on the couch, watching television. I dropped my purse on the small hall table and took the grocery bag into the kitchen. I made sandwiches and spooned out the potato salad.

'I'm thinking about getting a cookbook,' I told Morelli when I handed him his plate.

'Wow,' he said. 'What's that all about?'

'I'm getting tired of sandwiches and pizza.'

'A cookbook sounds like a big commitment.'

'It's not a commitment,' I said. 'It's a stupid cookbook. I could learn how to cook a chicken or a cow, or something.'

'Would we have to get married?'

'No.' Jeez.

Bob finished his sandwich and looked first to me and then to

Morelli. He knew from past experience that it wasn't likely we'd share, so he put his head down on his paw and went back to watching Seinfeld.

'So-o-o,' I said. 'Did you hear about Eugene Brown?'

'What about him?'

'I bounced him off my car today.'

Morelli took a forkful of potato salad. 'Am I going to hate the rest of this story?'

'It's possible. It was sort of a hit-and-run.'

'So this falls under the category of making an official police report?'

'Unofficial police report.'

'Did you kill him?'

'I don't think so. He was latched on to the hood of the Buick, hanging on to the windshield wiper, and he got pitched off when I turned the corner. I was at Seventh and Comstock, and I didn't think it was a good idea to get out of the car to check his vital signs.'

Morelli collected the three plates and stood to take them to the kitchen. 'Dessert?'

'Chocolate ice cream.' I followed after him and watched while he scooped. 'That was too easy,' I said. 'You didn't yell or tell me I was stupid, or anything.'

'I'm pacing myself.'

I rolled out of bed with Morelli at the crack of dawn.

This is getting scary,' Morelli said. 'First you're thinking about buying a cookbook. And now you're getting up with me. Next thing you'll be inviting my grandmother over for dinner.'

Not likely. His Grandma Bella was nuts. She had this Italian voodoo thing going that she called the eye. I'm not saying the eye worked, but I've known people who got the eye to coincidentally lose their hair, or skip their period, or break out in an unexplained rash. I was half Italian, but none of my relatives could give the eye.

Mostly, my relatives gave the finger.

We showered together. And that involved some fooling around.

So before Morelli even had breakfast he was already a half hour late.

I had coffee going by the time he came downstairs. He chugged a cup while he did the gun and badge routine. He dropped a blueberry into Rex's cage. And he dumped two cups of dog crunchies into Bob's bowl.

'What's the reason for the early start?' he asked. 'You aren't going back to Comstock Street, are you?'

I'm checking out real estate. Valerie isn't doing anything about finding her own place, so I thought I'd do some searching for her.'

Morelli looked over his cup at me. 'I thought you were all settled in here. What about the cookbook?'

'I like living with you, but sometimes I miss my independence.'

'Like when?'

'Okay, maybe independence is the wrong word. Maybe I just miss my own bathroom.'

Morelli grabbed me and kissed me. 'I love you, but not enough to add a second bathroom. I'm not budgeted for any more renovations.' He set his cup on the counter and headed for the front of the house. Bob ran with him, woofing, jumping around like a rabbit.

'Bob needs to go out,' I said.

'Your turn,' Morelli said. I'm late, and besides, you owe me for the shower.'

'What? What do you mean I owe you for the shower?'

He shrugged into a jacket. 'I did your favorite thing today. Almost drowned doing it, too. And I think I got a bruise on my knee.'

'Excuse me? What about that thing I did for you last night? I was just getting payback this morning.'

Morelli was grinning. 'They're not nearly equal, Cupcake. Especially since I did it in the shower.' He took his keys off the hall table. 'Come on. Be a sport. I'm really late.'

'Fine! Go. I'll walk the dog. Yeesh.'

Morelli opened the front door and stopped. 'Shit.'

'What?'

"We had visitors last night.'

Five

I tightened my robe and peeked around Morelli. There was graffiti on the sidewalk and graffiti on the Buick. We both stepped out onto the small porch. The graffiti was on the front door.

'What are these marks?' I asked. They look like little kitty paws.'

'These are gang symbols. The Comstock Street Slayers are affiliated with Crud nd Guts. Sometimes Crud and Guts is known as Cat Guts. So you have CSS with a paw print.' Morelli was pointing as he was talking. 'The GKC on the door would stand for Gangsta Killer Cruds.'

I moved off the porch, over to the Buick. Every square inch of the car was spray-painted. 'Slay the bitch' and 'Crud Money' were prevalent themes. Morelli's SUV had been left untouched.

'Seems like there's a message here,' I said to Morelli. I wasn't all that fond of the Buick but I hated seeing it defaced. The Buick had from time to time saved my butt. And probably this is a weird thing to say, but sometimes I had the feeling there was more there than just a car. Not to mention, the slogans seemed directed at me. And I suspected they weren't indicators of affection.

'"Slay the bitch" is self-explanatory,' Morelli said. His no-expression cop face was in place with only the tight corners of his mouth giving him away. Morelli wasn't happy. '"Crud Money" describes the gangster lifestyle of extortion and drug sales. In this case, it could be putting you on notice that you're marked for retribution.'