“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me in before Mr. Wolesky comes out and gives me the third degree.”

I slipped the chain and opened the door.

Morelli stepped into the foyer. His mouth curved at the edges. “Scary hair.”

“I sort of slept on it.”

“No wonder you have no sex life. It’d take a lot out of a man to wake up to hair like that.”

“Go sit in a chair in the living room, and don’t get up until I tell you. Don’t eat my food, and don’t scare my hamster, and don’t make any long-distance calls.”

He was watching television when I came out of my bedroom ten minutes later. I was wearing a granny dress over a white T-shirt, with ankle-high brown lace-up boots, and an oversized, loose-weave cardigan sweater. It was my Annie Hall look, and it made me feel feminine, but it always had the opposite effect on the opposite sex. Annie Hall was guaranteed to wilt the most determined dick. It was better than Mace on a blind date.

I wrapped Morelli’s red scarf around my neck and buttoned myself into my jacket. I grabbed my pocketbook and shut the lights off. “There’s going to be hell to pay if we’re late.”

Morelli followed me out the door. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Once your mother sees you in that get-up, she’ll forget about the time.”

“It’s my Annie Hall look.”

“Looks to me like you’ve put a jelly doughnut in a bag labeled bran muffin.”

I rushed down the hall and took the stairs. I got to the ground floor and remembered the package Dillon was holding. “Wait a minute,” I yelled to Morelli. “I’ll be right back.”

I scrambled down the stairs to the cellar and pounded on Dillon’s door.

Dillon peered out.

“I’m late, and I need my package,” I said.

He handed me a bulky overnight mail envelope, and I ran back up the stairs.

“Three minutes one way or the other can make or break a pot roast,” I told Morelli, grabbing him by the hand, dragging him across the lot to his truck. I hadn’t intended to go with him, but I figured if we hit traffic he could use his rooftop flasher. “You have a flasher on this truck?” I asked, climbing on board.

Morelli buckled himself in. “Yeah, I have a flasher. You don’t expect me to use it for pot roast, do you?”

I swiveled in my seat and stared out the back window.

Morelli cut his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Are you looking for Kenny?”

“I can feel him out there.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t there. He’s good at this sneaking around stuff. He walks into Stiva’s and chops off body parts, and nobody sees him. He came out of nowhere at the mall. He spotted me at Julia Cenetta’s house and in the motel parking lot, and I never had a clue. Now I have this creepy feeling he’s watching me, following me around.”