That had been my thought, too. I hadn’t fooled with the computer.

“Have you told Vinnie about Singh?” Morelli asked.

“I left that for Connie. She stayed behind to clean some things up.”

“Vinnie’ll put a good spin on it. You found Singh. That’s the important part. The system worked.”

“I need more sleep,” I said. “Wake me up when it’s time for dessert.”

“Bad news,” Morelli said. “Dessert will be too late. We’re expected for dinner at my mom’s house. We accepted this invitation two weeks ago,” Morelli said. “It’s Mary Elizabeth’s birthday.”

I’d totally forgotten. Mary Elizabeth is Joe’s great-aunt. She’s a chain-smoking booze hound and she’s a retired nun. And no party for Mary Elizabeth would be complete without Grandma Bella because Mary Elizabeth is Bella’s younger sister. I got a sharp pain in my right temple and my blood ran cold. I was having dinner with Grandma Bella.

“Are you okay?” Morelli asked. “You look sort of white.”

“I’m having dinner with Grandma Bella. My life is passing in front of my eyes. I’m as good as dead. I should just stand outside and let the carnation killer shoot me.”

“You have to have the right attitude about Grandma Bella.”

“And that would be what?”

Joe shrugged. “She’s crazy.”

I SLEPT UNTIL late afternoon. When I woke I was in Joe’s bed, still dressed in my travel clothes, partially tangled in a lightweight summer patchwork quilt. The sheets were rumpled under me and the pillowcase was damp with sweat and humidity. Aunt Rose’s gauzy curtains hung limp against the open window. The air was heavy, but the light was soft. The room felt like Joe and good sex. There were mental imprints of time spent here that didn’t get smoothed away with new sheets. If I closed my eyes in this room, even if I was alone, I could feel Morelli’s hands on me.

And today the room smelled like popcorn.

The popcorn aroma was drifting up from the living room where Joe and Bob were watching a ball game. I shuffled downstairs and looked in the popcorn bowl. Empty. I checked out the game. Not interesting.

Joe looked over at me. “I could call and cancel.”

“You can’t do that. It’s a birthday!”

“I’d come up with something good. I’d say you broke your leg. Or you had an appendix attack. Or you insisted we stay home and have a lot of sloppy sex.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think any of those would work.”

“The sex would work.”

I smiled at him and took the empty popcorn bowl back to the kitchen. “Nice try.”

I toasted a bagel, smeared it with too much butter, and ate it with the butter dripping down my arm. Do I know how to eat a bagel, or what? I went back upstairs, took a shower, and got dressed for dinner.

I was halfway through makeup when Morelli appeared in the bathroom doorway. He leaned a shoulder against the jamb, hands in pants pockets. “We’re late,” he said. “How’s it going?”