“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I thought maybe I’d go shopping. See if I could find a dress to go with the purple shoes.”

The line of Morelli’s mouth tightened. “You’re lying. You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?”

“Boy, that really hurts. I thought you’d be excited about a purple dress with the purple shoes. I was going to look for spandex, too. A short spandex dress with bugle beads and sequins.”

“I know you, and I know you’re not going shopping.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. I’m going shopping. I swear to you.”

One corner of Morelli’s mouth hitched up a fraction of an inch. “You’d lie to the pope.”

I caught myself halfway through the sign of the cross. “I almost never lie.” Only when it’s absolutely necessary. And on those occasions when the truth doesn’t seem appropriate.

I watched Morelli drive away, and then I headed over to Vinnie’s office to get some addresses.

Connie and Lula were yelling at each other when I walked into the office.

“Dominick Russo makes his own sauce,” Connie shouted. “With plum tomatoes. Fresh basil. Fresh garlic.”

“I don’t know about any of that plum tomato shit. All I know is the best pizza in Trenton comes from Tiny’s on First Street,” Lula shouted back. “Ain’t nobody makes pizza like Tiny. That man makes soul pizza.”

“Soul pizza? What the hell is soul pizza?” Connie wanted to know.

They both turned and glared at me.

“You settle it,” Connie said. “Tell know-it-all here about Dominic’s pizza.”

“Dom makes good pizza,” I said. “But I like the pizza at Pino’s.”

“Pino’s!” Connie curled her upper lip. “They use marinara sauce that comes in five-gallon cans.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I love that canned marinara sauce.” I dropped my pocketbook on Connie’s desk. “Glad to see you two getting along so well.”

“Hunh,” Lula said.

I plopped onto the couch. “I need some addresses. I want to do some snooping.”

Connie got a directory from the bookcase behind her. “Who you need?”

“Spiro Stiva and Louie Moon.”

“Wouldn’t want to look under the cushions in Spiro’s house,” Connie said. “Wouldn’t look in his refrigerator, either.”

Lula grimaced. “He the undertaker guy? Shoot, you aren’t gonna do breaking and entering on an undertaker, are you?”

Connie wrote an address on a piece of paper and searched for the second name.

I looked at the address she’d gotten for Spiro. “You know where this is?”

“Century Court Apartments. You take Klockner to Demby.” Connie gave me the second address. “I haven’t a clue on this one. Somewhere in Hamilton Township.”

“What are you looking for?” Lula asked.

I stuffed the addresses into my pocket. “I don’t know. A key, maybe.” Or a couple crates of guns in the living room.

“Maybe I should come with you,” Lula said. “Skinny ass like you shouldn’t be sneaking around all by yourself.”

“I appreciate your offer,” I told her, “but riding shotgun isn’t part of your job description.”