Read 07 Seven Up for Free Online

of the bed was empty. Morelli was gone. He'd tippy-toed out at the crack of dawn, and he'd left Bob with me.
    “Okay, big guy,” I said, “if you get off me I'll feed you.”
    Bob might not understand all the words, but Bob almost never missed the intent when it came to food. His ears perked up and his eyes got bright and he was off the bed in an instant, dancing around all happy-faced.
    I poured out a caldron of dog crunchies and looked in vain for people food. No Pop-Tarts, no pretzels, no Cap'n Crunch with Crunchberries. My mother always sends me home with a bag of food, but my mind had been on Loretta Ricci when I left my parents' house, and the food bag had been forgotten, left on the kitchen table.
    “Look at this,” I said to Bob. “I'm a domestic failure.”
    Bob gave me a look that said, Hey lady, you fed me, so how bad could you be?
    I stepped into Levi's and boots, threw a denim jacket on over my nightshirt, and hooked Bob up to his leash. Then I hustled Bob down the stairs and into my car so I could drive him to my archenemy Joyce Barnhardt's house to poop. This way I didn't have to do the pooper-scooper thing, and I felt like I was accomplishing something. Years ago I'd caught Joyce boinking my husband (now my ex-husband) on my dining room table, and once in a while I like to repay her kindness.
    Joyce lives just a quarter mile away, but that's enough distance for the world to change. Joyce has gotten nice settlements from her ex-husbands. In fact, husband number three was so eager to get Joyce out of his life he deeded her their house, free and clear. It's a big house set on a small lot in a neighborhood of upwardly mobile professionals. The house is red brick with fancy white columns supporting a roof over the front door. Sort of like the Parthenon meets Practical Pig. The neighborhood has a strict pooper-scooper law, so Bob and I only visit Joyce under cover of darkness. Or in this case, early in the morning before the street awakens.
    I parked half a block from Joyce. Bob and I quietly skulked to her front yard, Bob did his business, we skulked back to the car, and zipped off for McDonald's. No good deed goes unrewarded. I had an Egg McMuffin and coffee, and Bob had an Egg McMuffin and a vanilla milkshake.
    We were exhausted after all this activity, so we went back to my apartment and Bob took a nap and I took a shower. I put some gel in my hair and scrunched it up so there were lots of curls. I did the mascara and eyeliner thing and finished with lip gloss. I might not solve any problems today, but I looked pretty damn good.
    A half hour later Bob and I sailed into Vinnie's office, ready to go to work.
    “Uh-oh,” Lula said, “Bob's on the job.” She bent down to scratch Bob's head. “Hey Bob, what's up.”
    “We're still looking for Eddie DeChooch,” I said. “Anyone know where his nephew Ronald lives?”
    Connie wrote a couple addresses on a sheet of paper and handed it over to me. “Ronald has a house on Cherry Street, but you'll have more luck finding him at work at this time of the day. He runs a paving company, Ace Pavers, on Front Street, down by the river.”
    I pocketed the addresses, leaned close to Connie, and lowered my voice. “Is there anything on the street about Dougie Kruper?”
    “Like what?” Connie asked.
    “Like he's missing.”
    The door to Vinnie's office burst open and Vinnie stuck his head out. “What do you mean he's missing?”
    I looked up at Vinnie. “How did you hear that? I was whispering, and you had your door closed.”
    “I got ears in my ass,” Vinnie said. “I hear everything.”
    Connie ran her fingers along the desk edges. “Goddamn you,” Connie said, “you planted a bug again.” She emptied her cup filled with pencils, rifled through her drawers, emptied the contents of her purse onto the desktop. “Where is it, you little worm?”
    “There's no bug,” Vinnie said. “I'm telling you I got good ears. I got radar.”
    Connie found the bug