"I'm not sure you're the bounty hunter type," I told Valerie.

"Of course I'm the bounty hunter type," she said enthusiastically. "I just have to get into the right mind-set." She sat up straighter on my couch and started singing the rubber tree ant song.

"He's got hiiiigh hopes . . . hiiiigh hopes!"

Good thing my gun was in the kitchen, because I had an urge to shoot Valerie. This was taking the cheerful thing way beyond where I wanted to go.

"Grandma said you were working on a big case and I thought maybe I could help," Valerie said.

"I don't know . . . this guy is a killer."

"But he's old, right?"

"Yeah. He's an old killer."

"That sounds like a good place to start," Valerie said, bouncing up off the couch. "Let's go get him."

"I don't exactly know where to find him," I said.

"He's probably feeding ducks at the lake. That's what old men do. At night they watch television and during the day they feed the ducks."

"It's raining. I don't think he'd feed the ducks in the rain."

Valerie glanced over at the window. "Good point."

There was a sharp rap at the door and then the sound of someone testing the door to see if it was locked. Then there was another rap.

Morelli, I thought. Returning Mooner.

I opened the door and Eddie DeChooch stepped into my foyer. He had his gun in his hand, and he looked serious.

"Where is he?" DeChooch asked. "I know he's living with you. Where is the rat b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

"Are you talking about Mooner?"

"I'm talking about the worthless little piece of s.h.i.t who's s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around with me. He's got something that belongs to me and I want it back."

"How do you know Mooner has it?"

DeChooch pushed past me and went into my bedroom and bathroom. "His friend don't have it. And I don't have it. The only one left is this Mooner moron." DeChooch opened closet doors and slammed them shut. "Where is he? I know you've got him locked away some place."

I shrugged. "He said he had errands to run and that's the last I've seen of him."

He put his gun to Valerie's head. "Who's Miss Cutesy here?"

"That's my sister Valerie."

"Maybe I should shoot her."

Valerie looked sideways at the gun. "Is that a real gun?"

DeChooch moved the gun six inches to the right and squeezed off a shot. The bullet missed my television by a millimeter and lodged in my wall.

Valerie went white and made a squeaky sound.

"Cripes, she sounds like a mouse," DeChooch said.

"What am I supposed to do about that wall?" I asked him. "You made a big bullet hole in it."

"You can show the bullet hole to your friend. You can tell him his head's gonna look like that wall if he doesn't shape up."

"Maybe I could help you get this thing back if you'd tell me what it is."

DeChooch eased out my front door with the gun pointed at Valerie and me. "Don't follow me," he said, "or I'll shoot you."

Valerie's knees wobbled and she sat down hard on the floor.

I waited a couple beats before going to the door and looking out, down the hall. I believed DeChooch about the shooting part. When I finally checked the hall DeChooch was nowhere to be seen. I closed and locked my door and ran to the window. My apartment is at the back of the building, and my windows overlook the parking lot. Not especially scenic, but handy for checking out fleeing crazy old men.

I watched DeChooch leave the building and take off in the white Cadillac. The police were looking for him and I was looking for him and he was riding around in the white Cadillac. Not exactly the stealth felon. So why weren't we able to catch him? I knew the answer on my side. I was inept.

Valerie was still on the floor, still looking pale.

"You might want to rethink the bounty hunter thing," I suggested to Valerie. Maybe I should rethink it, too.

VALERIE RETURNED TO my parents' house to locate her Valium, and I called Ranger back.

"I'm going to bail on this case," I said to Ranger. "I'm going to hand it off to you."

"You don't usually bail," Ranger said. "What's the deal here?"

"DeChooch is making me look like an idiot."

"And?"

"Dougie Kruper is missing and I think his disappearance is somehow tied to DeChooch. I'm worried that I'm endangering Dougie because I keep s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up with DeChooch."

"Dougie Kruper was probably abducted by aliens."

"Do you want to take the case, or what?"

"I don't want it."

"Fine. The h.e.l.l with you." I hung up and stuck my tongue out at the phone. I grabbed my bag and my rain jacket and stomped out of my apartment and down the stairs.

Mrs. DeGuzman was in the lobby. Mrs. DeGuzman is from the Philippines and doesn't speak a word of English.

"Humiliating," I said to Mrs. DeGuzman.

Mrs. DeGuzman smiled and bobbed her head like one of those dogs people put in their car rear window.

I got into the CR-V and sat there for a moment thinking things like, Prepare to die, DeChooch Prepare to die, DeChooch. And, No more Ms. Nice Guy No more Ms. Nice Guy, this is war this is war. But then I couldn't figure out how to find DeChooch, so I did a quick run to the bakery.

It was close to five when I got back to my apartment. I opened my door and stifled a shriek. There was a man in my living room. I took another look and realized it was Ranger. He was sitting in a chair, looking relaxed, thoughtfully watching me.

"You hung up on me," he said. "Don't ever hang up on me."

His voice was quiet, but as always the authority was unmistakable. He was wearing black dress slacks, a long-sleeved lightweight black sweater pushed up on his forearms, and expensive black loafers. His hair was cut very short. I was used to seeing him in SWAT dress with long hair, and I hadn't immediately recognized him. I guess that was the point.

"Are you in disguise?" I asked.

He watched me without answering. "What's in the bag?"

"An emergency cinnamon bun. What are you doing here?"

"I thought we might make a deal. How bad do you want DeChooch?"

Oh boy. "What did you have in mind?"

"You find DeChooch. If you need help bringing him in you call me. If I succeed in the capture, you spend a night with me."

My heart stopped beating. Ranger and I had been playing this game for a while now, but it had never been articulated in quite this way.

"I'm sort of engaged to Morelli," I said.

Ranger smiled.

s.h.i.t.

There was the sound of a key being inserted in my front door lock and the door swung open. Morelli strode in and he and Ranger nodded to each other.

"Game over?" I asked Morelli.

Morelli gave me a death look. "The game's over and the baby-sitting is over. And I don't ever want to see this guy again."

"Where is he?"

Morelli turned and looked. No Mooner. "Christ," Morelli said. He went back to the hall and yanked Mooner into the room by Mooner's jacket collar, the Trenton PD equivalent to a mother cat dragging a demented offspring by the scruff of his neck.

"Dude," Mooner said.

Ranger stood and pa.s.sed me a card with a name and address written on it. "The owner of the white Cadillac," he said. He slipped into a black leather jacket and left. Mr. Sociable.

Morelli deposited Mooner in a chair in front of the television, pointed his finger at him, and told him to stay.

I raised my eyebrows at Morelli.

"It works with Bob," Morelli said. He put the television on and motioned me into the bedroom. "We need to talk."

There was a time when the idea of being in a bedroom with Morelli scared the h.e.l.l out of me. Now mostly it makes my nipples get hard.

"What's up?" I said, closing the door.

"Mooner tells me you picked out a wedding gown today."

I closed my eyes and flopped back onto the bed. "I did! I let myself get sucked into it." I groaned. "My mother and grandmother showed up and next thing I was trying on gowns at Tina's."

"You'd tell me if we were getting married, wouldn't you? I mean, you wouldn't just appear on my doorstep in the gown one day and say we were due at the church in an hour."

I sat up and narrowed my eyes at him. "No need to get snippy about it."

"Men don't get snippy," Morelli said. "Men get p.i.s.sed. Women get snippy."

I jumped up from the bed. "That's so typical of you to make a s.e.xist remark!"

"Lighten up," Morelli said. "I'm Italian. I'm supposed to make s.e.xist remarks."

"This is not not going to work." going to work."

"Cupcake, you'd better figure this out before your mother gets her Visa bill for that dress."

"Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to get married?"

"Sure. Let's get married now." He reached behind him and locked the bedroom door. "Take your clothes off."

"What?"

Morelli pushed me down and leaned over me. "Marriage is a state of mind."

"Not in my family."

He picked up my shirt and looked under it.

"Hold it! Wait a minute!" I said. "I can't do this with Mooner in the next room!"

"Mooner's watching television."

His hand cupped my pubic bone, he did something magical with his index finger, my eyes glazed over, and some drool trickled out of the corner of my mouth. "The door's locked, right?"

"Right," Morelli said. He had my pants down to my knees.

"Maybe you should check."