“I don’t have time for breakfast.”

“I made some nice oatmeal. It’s on the table. I poured your juice.” She looked down at my shoes. “What kind of shoes are they?”

“They’re Doc Martens.”

“Your father wore shoes like that when he was in the army.”

“These are great shoes,” I said. “I love these shoes. Everyone wears shoes like this.”

“Women interested in getting married to a nice man do not wear shoes like that. Women who like other women wear shoes like that. You don’t have any funny ideas about women, do you?”

I clapped my hand over my eye.

“What’s wrong with your eye?” my mother asked.

“It’s twitching.”

“You’re too nervous. It’s that job. Look at you rushing out of the house. And what’s that on your belt?”

“Pepper spray.”

“Your sister, Valerie, doesn’t wear such things on her belt.”

I looked at my watch. If I ate real fast, I could still get to Spiro by eight.

My father was at the table, reading his paper, drinking coffee. “How’s the Buick?” he asked. “You giving it high-test?”

“The Buick’s fine. No problems.”

I chugged the juice and tried the oatmeal. It needed something. Chocolate, maybe. Or ice cream. I added three spoons of sugar and some milk.

Grandma Mazur took her seat at the table. “My hand feels better,” she said, “but I got the devil of a headache.”

“You should stay at home today,” I said. “Take it easy.”

“I’m going to take it easy at Clara’s. I look a fright. Don’t know how my hair got like this.”

“No one will see you if you don’t go out of the house,” I argued.

“Suppose someone comes over. Suppose that good-looking Morelli boy comes to visit again? You think I want him seeing me like this? Besides, I got to go while I still got the bandage on and I’m big news. Not every day a person gets attacked at the bakery.”

“I have things to do first thing this morning, but then I’ll be back, and I’ll take you to Clara’s,” I told Grandma. “Don’t go without me!”

I wolfed down the rest of the oatmeal and had a fast half cup of coffee. I grabbed my jacket and pocketbook and took off. I had my hand on the door when the phone rang.

“It’s for you,” my mother said. “It’s Vinnie.”

“I don’t want to talk to him. Tell him I’ve already left.”

The cell phone rang just as I hit Hamilton.

“You should have talked to me at home,” Vinnie said. “It would have been cheaper.”

“You’re breaking up … lousy connection.”

“Don’t give me that lousy connection crap.”

I made some static sounds.

“And I’m not going to fall for that phony static, either. Make sure you get your keester in here this morning.”

I didn’t see Morelli lurking in Spiro’s parking lot, but I assumed he was there. There were two vans and a truck with a cap. Both good possibilities.