"Good thing no prints were found other than DeChooch, because otherwise whoever whoever was f.u.c.king stupid enough to shoot up Soba's house would not only be in trouble with the police but would answer to Soba." was f.u.c.king stupid enough to shoot up Soba's house would not only be in trouble with the police but would answer to Soba."

I was starting to get annoyed that he was still yelling at me. "Good thing," I said with my PMS voice. "Anything else?"

"Yes, there's something else. I ran into Dougie and Mooner in the parking lot. They told me you and Ranger rescued them."

"So?"

"In Richmond."

"So?"

"And Ranger got shot?"

"Flesh wound."

Morelli pressed his lips tighter together. "Jesus."

"I was worried the pig heart would be discovered and revenge would be taken out on Mooner and Dougie."

"Very admirable, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Christ, I'm getting an ulcer. You've got me drinking bottles of Maalox. I hate this. I hate going through the day wondering what harebrained scheme you're involved in, wondering who's shooting at you."

"That's so hypocritical. You're a cop."

"I never never get shot at. The only time I have to worry about getting shot is when I'm with you." get shot at. The only time I have to worry about getting shot is when I'm with you."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're going to have to choose between me or the job."

"Well, guess what, I'm not spending the rest of my life with someone who gives me ultimatums."

"Fine."

"Fine."

And he left, slamming the door behind him. I like to think I'm a pretty stable person, but this was too much. I cried until I was totally cried out and then I ate three doughnuts and took a shower. I toweled off and still felt overwhelmed so I decided to bleach my hair blond. Change is good, right?

"I WANT IT blond," I told Mr. Arnold, the only hairdresser I could find open on a Sunday. "Platinum blond. I want to look like Marilyn."

"Darling," Arnold said, "with your hair you won't look like Marilyn. You'll look like Art Garfunkel."

"Just do it."

MR. MORGANSTERN WAS in the lobby when I got back. "Whoa," he said, "you look like that singer . . . what's the name?"

"Garfunkel?"

"No. The one with the b.r.e.a.s.t.s like ice-cream cones."

"Madonna."

"Yep. That's the one."

I let myself into my apartment and went straight to the bathroom and looked at my hair in the mirror. I liked it. It was different. Cla.s.sy in a s.l.u.tty sort of way.

I had a stack of mail on the kitchen counter that I'd been avoiding. I got a beer to celebrate my new hair, and I sorted through the mail. Bills, bills, bills. I thumbed through my checkbook. Not enough money. I needed to capture DeChooch.

My guess was DeChooch had a money problem, too. No vig coming in anymore. No money from the cigarette fiasco. Little to no money from The Snake Pit. And now he had no car and no place to live. Correction, he didn't have the Cadillac. He drove away in something. I didn't get a good look at it.

There were four messages on my machine. I hadn't checked them because I was afraid they were from Joe. I suspect the truth is that neither of us is ready to get married. And instead of facing the real issue we're finding ways to sabotage the relationship. We don't talk about important things like kids and jobs. We each take a stand and yell at each other.

Maybe it's just not the right time for us to be married. I don't want to be a bounty hunter for the rest of my life, but I certainly don't want to be a housewife right now. And I really don't want to be married to someone who gives me ultimatums.

And maybe Joe needs to examine what he wants from a wife. He was raised in a traditional Italian household with a stay-at-home mother and domineering father. If he wants a wife who will fit into that mold, I'm not for him. I might be a stay-at-home mother someday, but I'll always be trying to fly off the garage roof. That's just who I am.

So let's see some guts, Blondie, I told myself. This is the new and improved Stephanie. Check out those messages. Be fearless.

I pulled up the first one and it was from my mother.

"Stephanie? This is your mother. I have a nice roast for tonight. And cupcakes for dessert. With sprinkles. The girls like cupcakes."

The second was another reminder from the bridal shop that my gown was in.

The third was from Ranger with an update on Sophia and Christina. Christina had turned up at the hospital with every bone in her hand broken. Her sister had smashed it with a meat mallet to get it out of the cuff. Unable to stand the pain, Christina turned herself in, but Sophia was still at large.

The fourth message was from Vinnie. The charges had been dropped against Melvin Baylor, and Melvin had bought himself a one-way ticket to Arizona. Apparently his ex-wife had witnessed Melvin's berserk attack on his car and had gotten frightened. If Melvin would do that to his car, there was no telling what Melvin might do next. So she had her mother drop the charges, and she made a cash settlement with Melvin. Sometimes crazy is good.

Those were the messages. None from Morelli. Funny thing how a woman's mind works. Now I was b.u.mmed because Morelli hadn't called.

I told my mother I'd be there for dinner. And then I told Tina I'd decided not to take the gown. I hung up from Tina and felt twenty pounds lighter. Mooner and Dougie were okay. Grandma was okay. I was a blonde and I didn't have a wedding gown. Overlooking my problems with Morelli, life couldn't get much better.

I took a short nap before heading for my parents' house. When I woke up my hair was doing strange things so I took a shower. After washing and drying my hair I looked like Art Garfunkel. But more. It was as if my hair had exploded.

"I don't care," I said to my reflection in the mirror. "I'm the new and improved Stephanie." It was a lie, of course. Jersey girls care.

I put on a pair of new black jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeved ribbed red sweater. I walked into the living room and found Benny and Ziggy sitting on the couch.

"We heard the shower going so we didn't want to disturb you," Benny said.

"Yeah," Ziggy said, "and you should get your security chain fixed. No telling who might come in."

"We just came back from Louie D's funeral and we heard all about how you found the fruity little guy and his friend. That was a terrible thing Sophia did."

"Even when Louie was alive she was crazy," Ziggy said. "You'd never want to turn your back on her. She doesn't think right."

"And you should tell Ranger he has our best wishes. We hope his arm isn't too bad."

"Was Louie D buried with his heart?"

"Ronald took it straight to the undertaker and they put it in and sewed him up good as new. And then Ronald followed the hea.r.s.e back here to Trenton for burial today."

"No Sophia?"

"There were flowers on the grave, but she didn't come to the ceremony." He shook his head. "Lots of police in attendance. It ruined the privacy."

"I guess you're still looking for Choochy," Benny said. "You should be careful of him. He's a little . . ." Benny made a circling motion against his head with his index finger to denote screw loose. "Not like Sophia, though. Chooch is an okay person at heart."

"It's the stroke and the stress," Ziggy said. "Stress shouldn't be underestimated. If you need help with Choochy you should call us. Maybe we could do something."

Benny nodded his head. I should call them.

"Your hair looks nice," Ziggy said. "You got a perm, right?"

They stood and Benny gave me a box. "I got some peanut brittle for you. Estelle brought it back from Virginia."

"You can't buy peanut brittle up here like they got in Virginia," Ziggy said.

I thanked them for the peanut brittle and closed the door behind them. I gave them five minutes to clear the building, and then I grabbed my black leather jacket and bag and locked up.

MY MOTHER LOOKED past me when she came to the door. "Where's Joe? Where's your car?"

"I traded my car in for the bike."

"That bike at the curb?"

I nodded.

"It looks like one of those h.e.l.l's Angels bikes."

"It's a Harley."

That's when it hit her. The hair. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open. "Your hair," she whispered.

"I thought I'd try something new."

"My G.o.d, you look like that singer . . ."

"Madonna?"

"Art Garfunkel."

I left my helmet, jacket, and bag in the hall closet and took my seat at the table.

"You got here right in tine," Grandma said. "Holy cats! Look at you. You look just like that singer."

"I know," I snapped. "I know."

"Where's Joseph?" my mother said. "I thought he was coming to dinner."

"We've sort of . . . broken up."

Everyone stopped eating, except for my father. My father used the opportunity to take more potatoes.

"That's impossible," my mother said. "You have a gown."

"I canceled the gown."

"Does Joseph know this?"

"Yep." I tried to act casual, digging in to my meal, asking my sister to pa.s.s the green beans. I can get through this, I thought. I'm a blonde. I can do anything.

"It's the hair, isn't it?" my mother asked. "He called the wedding off because of the hair."

"I called the wedding off. And I don't want to talk about it." called the wedding off. And I don't want to talk about it."

The doorbell rang and Valerie jumped up. "That's for me. I have a date."

"A date!" my mother said. "That's wonderful. You've been here such a short time and already you have a date."

I did some mental eye rolling. My sister is clueless. This is what happens when you grow up as the good girl. You never learn the value of lies and deceit. I never never brought my dates home. You meet dates at the mall so you don't give your parents a stroke when your date shows up with tattoos and tongue studs. Or, in this case, is a lesbian. brought my dates home. You meet dates at the mall so you don't give your parents a stroke when your date shows up with tattoos and tongue studs. Or, in this case, is a lesbian.

"This is Janeane," Valerie said, introducing a short, dark-haired woman. "I met her when I interviewed at the bank. I didn't get the job but Janeane asked me out."

"She's a woman," my mother said.

"Yes, we're lesbians," Valerie said.

My mother fainted. Crash Crash. Flat out on the floor.

Everyone jumped up and ran to my mother.