Fearless Fourteen - Janet Evanovich [49]
“He has a gun,” Morelli said.
“True. And a car.”
“The car he was driving belongs to his mother. We found it abandoned.”
“Where’s he sleeping? Is he sneaking back into his mother’s house?”
“No. We’ve been doing random checks,” Morelli said.
“It’s warm enough to sleep outdoors. Just another street person if he migrated downtown.”
“Yes, but he has a rifle. It would make him conspicuous if he carried it with him.”
Bob was digging in one of the holes. He had his head below ground level and dirt was flying between his hind legs.
“I think Dom’s in the neighborhood, waiting for a chance to get into the house,” I said. “So maybe we can set a trap. Make it look like no one’s home, but you could be in a closet or something, waiting to jump out and capture Dom.”
“Gee, that sounds like lots of fun.”
“You have a better plan?”
Morelli blew out a sigh. “No.”
MORELLI WOKE ME up out of a sound sleep. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
“I was sleeping. I didn’t hear anything.”
“Shush,” he said. “Listen.”
It was warm and the windows were open. The white gauzy curtain still left from Aunt Rose moved on a gentle breeze.
“There,” he said. “Did you hear it?”
“It sounds like someone’s digging.”
“What does it take to discourage these idiots?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t care if they’re digging. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t go to sleep,” Morelli said. “This is making me nuts.”
He rolled out of bed and moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to shoot the digger.”
“That’s not a good idea. Not to mention, you’re naked.”
“The digger won’t care. He’ll be concentrating on his bullet hole.”
“You needed a new lawn anyway,” I said to him. “Think of this as soil preparation.”
He found a pair of boxers and pulled them on. “How’s this? Does this meet your dress code for shooting trespassers?”
I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed some clothes off the floor. “Let’s at least see who’s out there before you shoot them. If we’re lucky, it’ll be Dom. Do you have a flashlight?”
“In the kitchen.”
We padded downstairs and tiptoed through the dark house. I found the flashlight, and Morelli had his Glock in hand. We stood in the pitch-black kitchen and looked out the window. Someone was clearly digging in the backyard, but it was too dark to see much of anything.
“Okay,” Morelli said. “On the count of three, I’m going to open the door, and you shine the flashlight on this bastard. One, two . . . three!”
Morelli yanked the back door open, and I hit the button on the flashlight and caught the digger in the act.
“Good God,” Morelli said.
It was Grandma Mazur.
“Howdy,” Grandma said. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Of course you woke us,” I said. “It’s two in the morning. What the heck are you doing?”
“I felt lucky,” Grandma said.
“I don’t think the money is buried in the backyard,” Morelli told her.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I still feel lucky. It isn’t everyday I get to see a man in his underwear.”
“How did you get here?” I asked her.
“I drove the Buick.”
“You’re not supposed to drive,” I told her.
“I’m old. I’ve got rights,” she said.
That could be true, but Grandma Mazur was the worst driver ever. She knew only one speed. Foot to the floor.
“I’ll drive Grandma home,” I said to Morelli.
I dropped Grandma off at the door and locked the Buick up in my father’s garage. Morelli was waiting curbside in the SUV when I got to the front of my parents’ house. I slid onto the passenger seat and looked over at him. He was only wearing the boxers.
“I thought you might have changed your mind about the SUV,” Morelli said.
I checked out his underwear, which was imprinted with pictures of bunnies. “Where did you get those shorts?” I asked.
“Wal-Mart. They came in