"I'm going back for cookies," I said to Grandma and Randy.

"I'll go with you," Randy said.

"No! You have to stay here and save my seat."

"She's right," Grandma said. "I'll never be able to hold two seats in this location. These people get vicious when it comes to a good seat."

I made my way out of the room and back to the lobby, talking to people as I worked my way through the crowd. I was looking for information on male friends, new friends, shopping friends. I was hanging out at the cookie table when I started a conversation with a woman who lived on Stanton Street and was Rose's neighbor.

"Were you and Rose good friends?" I asked her.

"Truth is, I hardly knew her. I saw her all the time, because I lived right across the street, and my windows looked out at her house. We would say hello when we were both out, but other than that she kept to herself. She was quiet. She mostly went to the Senior Center. The little bus would come pick her up."

"That bus just picks up and drops off at the Senior Center," I said. "It must have been hard for Rose to go grocery shopping."

"Her daughter used to take her shopping every Saturday, but then a couple weeks before she was murdered there was a different car. I imagine it was some other relative."

"Was it an SUV?"

"No. It was a regular car. Gray. It looked like a man driving, so it might have been the son-in-law. I didn't know him."

"Are there any other neighbors here?"

The woman looked around. "I haven't seen any. It's hard to see anybody in this mob."

At eight-thirty I started maneuvering myself back into the viewing room. The tide was already turning and people were beginning to move out. I joined the line filing past the deceased, managing to get up to the casket just as the lights dimmed. I murmured the standard polite condolences and told Rose's family I was part of the team investigating the murders.

They introduced themselves as Rose's daughter, son-in-law, and younger brother. I asked if Rose had mentioned any new friends or activities in the weeks before she died.

Her daughter shook her head. "No. She had a set routine. She wasn't very adventuresome in her later years."

"What about the Saturday shopping trip?" I asked.

"We used to always shop together on Saturday," the daughter said, "but I had foot surgery, and couldn't drive."

I looked down at her foot, encased in a big black orthopedic walking boot.

"Fortunately one of Mom's friends from the Senior Center volunteered to take her shopping until I was driving again," she said.

"Did you know this friend?"

"No. I never met him, but Mom had known this person for some time. Apparently he was one of those good souls who help out when rides are needed."

"I don't suppose you know his name?"

"I believe it was Gordon."

I saw my whole day go up in smoke. It was Gordon. The Jolly Hobbit. The guy with the car. Mr. Popularity. The guy who would have to strangle a woman with one hand so he could use his bronchial inhaler with the other. Even as I stood there I could hear him wheezing, trying to keep up with Grandma, who was hellbent for the cookie table. Problem was, Gordon could have an accomplice. Gordon could be luring old ladies off into the bushes with the promise of a ride to the butcher shop, and his evil twin, nutso cousin, or whackjob roommate could be strangling them and tossing them into the Dumpster.

I followed Grandma, Gordon, and Randy Berger out of the viewing room into the lobby.

"I'm going to head out," I told Grandma. "And I told Mom I'd give you a ride home."

"Thanks," she said, "but Gordon and I are going for a nightcap after we score some cookies."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I told Grandma. "I promised Mom I'd bring you home."

"Don't worry," Gordon said. "I'll take good care of her. And I won't keep her out too late."

"I'm holding you responsible for her welfare," I said to him.

"You can count on me," he said.

SEVENTEEN.

I WENT OUT the funeral home's front door, walked through the parking lot, and bushwhacked my way through a hedge to get to the garages. I emerged from the hedge and experienced a moment of disorientation when I looked around and didn't see Ranger's CR-V. I walked to the middle of the drive court and did a 360-degree scan. No car.

I called Ranger. "The strangest thing just happened," I said. "I came out of the viewing, and your car is gone."

There was silence on his end, and I assumed he was checking with the control room. All his fleet cars had tracking devices.

"It's in the police impound lot," Ranger said.

"I guess I sort of parked illegally, but there weren't any parking places. I don't suppose you'd want to give me a ride home?"

"Babe," Ranger said. And the line went dead.

Ten minutes later Ranger picked me up at the funeral home.

"I thought I had a good lead on the murders, but it evaporated," I told him. "Did you find out who was taking Melvina shopping?"

"A man named Gordon Krutch. He seems to be the senior citizen go-to guy when someone needs a ride."

I blew out a sigh.

"Not liking that information?" Ranger asked.

"No. He seems entirely incapable. And he's with my grandmother."

"Are you giving up on Bingo?"

"Not entirely. I got a slow cooker out of it."

"Have you used it?"

"I put Rex in it when I cleaned his cage."

He had one hand resting on the steering wheel and the other on the back of my seat. His finger traced a line down the nape of my neck. "What's next? Am I taking you home?"

Okay, I have to admit I was tempted to strip my shirt off and straddle him. I'd actually done this once in his Porsche 911, and it was a complicated undertaking. He was driving his SUV tonight so it would be easier, but the consequences would be the same. Mind-blowing gratification followed by Catholic guilt and the munchies. I could probably handle the Catholic guilt, but I couldn't handle the three extra pounds the munchies would produce.

"Well?" Ranger said.

"Let's see if we can flush out Uncle Sunny."

Ranger put the Cayenne in gear and drove the short distance to Joe's mother's house. He parked across the street and one house down, and we sat silently watching the neighborhood. No activity. Lights on in all the houses. No Lincoln Town Car parked at the curb.

We got out and stood for a moment in front of the house. Upstairs windows were dark. Lights were on downstairs in the kitchen and living room. Shades hadn't been drawn. We moved closer, keeping in the shadows. Joe's mom and Grandma Bella were on the couch. Joe's mom was watching television. Bella was head down, snoozing. No sign of Sunny.

"Maybe he's asleep in an upstairs bedroom," I said.

Ranger stepped out of the shadows and went to the front door. "Let's find out."

Joe's mom answered on the second knock. She looked at Ranger and then at me standing by his side.

"We're looking for Sunny," Ranger said.

"He's not here."

I looked into the living room and saw Bella's head snap up with a snort. Her raptor eyes focused on me, and she sprang off the couch and rushed over to us.

"You!" she said, pointing her finger at me. "You devil."

"I thought we discussed this," Joe's mom said to Bella. "Stephanie is not the devil."

"She come to get my nephew. She's no good. And she's stupid. She come too late. Sunny's already gone. I spit on her."

"We don't spit on people," Joe's mom said to Bella. "And we especially don't spit on people when they're in my house."

"How about the porch?" Bella asked her.

Joe's mom looked like she was getting a migraine. "Are we done here?" she asked Ranger.

Ranger looked at me. "Would you like to search the house?"

"Not necessary," I told him. "If Joe's mom says Sunny isn't here, then he isn't here."

We retreated to the car, and sat there for a moment.

"Any ideas?" I asked Ranger.

"Babe."

"Any ideas about finding Sunny?"

"If he's as frustrated as I am, he'll be at Rita's," Ranger said.

Twenty minutes later we were parked across from Rita's house. Lights were on. Shades were drawn. No car in the driveway.

"Let's talk to her," Ranger said, getting out of the SUV.

I scrambled to catch up to him. "Just like that? No snooping first?"

"If I'm going to sneak around in the bushes with you, I'm not wasting time looking in Rita Raguzzi's windows."

"Okay then. Good to know. Snooping first is tedious anyway. Let's just knock on her door."

Ranger rapped a couple times and Rita answered. She looked at me, and she looked at Ranger. She did a slow whole-body scan of Ranger, head to toe, and she smiled.

"At least you came with a present this time," she said to me.

"We're looking for Sunny."

"He's not here, but tall, dark, and handsome is welcome to come in for a drink."

"Tall, dark, and handsome is going to pass on that offer," I told her, "but keep me in mind if Sunny drops dead in your bed and you want to get rid of him."

We left Rita and headed out of her neighborhood.

"Is it likely Sunny will drop dead in Rita's bed?" Ranger asked.

"He has a bad heart."

I was out of ideas for finding Sunny, so I had Ranger take me home. He walked me to my door, and waited while I unlocked it.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked him.

"Is this invitation out of passion or pity?"

"Do you care?"

Ranger smiled. "No."

The truth is, I felt inviting him in was the least I could do after declining Rita's invitation on his behalf. I mean I'd be a really terrible person if I didn't compensate him for that, right? At least give him a glass of wine. Tell him how appreciative I was for all he did for me.

I hung my bag on the hook in the foyer and went into the kitchen.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" I asked him.

"No."