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hair pulled into a severe ponytail.
    â€œYou packing heat?” Michael asked, tone teasing.
    â€œAlways. So, watch your step.”
    Of all her brothers, she was closest to Michael. Maybe because he had been kind to the little girl who had always been tagging after him, or because their minds worked in the same way.
    She crossed to him. They hugged, then kissed each other’s cheeks.
    She turned to Neil and did the same.
    When she pulled away, he grinned at her. “I suggest you check that weapon at the door, Mama’s in rare form tonight. You might be tempted to kill her.”
    â€œJustifiable homicide,” she said. “There’s not a judge in the city who’d convict.”
    Just then Benjamin, Neil’s three-year-old, barreled out the door, his mother, Melody, in close pursuit. Neil’s engagement to Melody—a willowy, Protestant, blue-eyed blonde—had been met with family fireworks. Marrying outside both faith and ethnicity? Mama Riggio had actually conjured chest pains over it.
    The drama had taken the heat off M.C. for a good six months. Then Melody had ruined everything by becoming Catholic, then having Benjamin.
    M.C. was surrounded by Suck-ups.
    Benjamin caught sight of M.C. and squealed in delight. She squatted and held out her arms. He ran to her for a big hug and the treat he knew she would have in her pocket. Today it was a package of animal crackers.
    â€œYou spoil him,” her sister-in-law said. M.C. stood and smiled. “What’re you going to do about it? Arrest me?”
    Neil scooped up his son and helped him open the crackers. “How’s the weather in there?” he asked his wife.
    â€œCloudy with a chance of thunderstorms. You know Mama.”
    They did, indeed, know Mama. They exchanged glances as if wondering whose neck would be on the chopping block tonight.
    Michael looked at his watch. “The three pasta-pushers are late.”
    â€œHaven’t they heard carbs are out?” M.C. said. “Again.”
    â€œActually, I think they’re back in,” Neil murmured. “Again.”
    Just then, the three arrived, following one another in separate vehicles. M.C. saw that they were all on their cell phones. They parked and spilled out of their cars, still on their calls. Arguing. With one another, for heaven’s sake.
    They bounded up the steps, snapping their phones shut. She was immediately surrounded by the handsome, rowdy bunch. The noise level rose. Hugs, kisses and good-natured ribbing ensued.
    God, she loved these oafs.
    Melody broke up the reunion. “May I suggest we head inside? Before Mama—”
    â€œGets really ticked off,” Neil offered. “Good suggestion.”
    They all headed in. Shouts of “Mama!” filled the house. The woman appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.
    â€œYou’re late, all but Michael and Neil.” She glared at M.C. “My only daughter and no help at all.”
    Apparently, it would be her neck. Big surprise.
    â€œSorry, Mama,” she said, kissing her mother’s nearly unlined cheeks. “I was working.”
    Her mother made a sound, her own unique cross between a snort and “Holy God.” “Oh, yes, that job.”
    â€œMeaning exactly what?”
    â€œYou know how I feel about what you do. Police work? Please. That’s no job for a woman.”
    M.C. opened her mouth to argue; Mama waved everyone to the table. As they took their seats, Melody stepped in, voice hushed. “Are you working that child murder?”
    She nodded, glancing down the table at Benjamin. He seemed oblivious to everything but his animal crackers. “I’m lead detective.”
    â€œCongrats, li’l sister.” That came from Michael and she smiled at him. He passed the bowl of spaghetti. She served herself, then passed it on.
    â€œIs that madman really back?” Melody asked. “That Sleeping Angel guy?”
    â€œIt looks that