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way. But there were inconsistencies.” Her brother handed her the platter of veal parmigiana, followed by green beans and salad.
    â€œWhat kind of inconsistencies?” he asked.
    She flashed him a smile. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
    Max jumped in. “So, this could be a copycat killer?”
    The table went quiet. All eyes turned to her. She thought of Kitt Lundgren’s anonymous caller claiming a copycat had killed Julie Entzel. A funny sensation settled over her. “At this point in the investigation, anything’s still possible.”
    â€œI’m glad I had a boy,” Melody murmured. “I’d be scared to death otherwise.”
    â€œEnough!” Mama snapped. “What kind of dinner talk is this? And with the baby listening. Shame on you all.”
    â€œSorry, Mama,” they murmured in unison, just as they had been doing all their lives.
    They turned their attention to their food, which was delicious. Her mother may be a supersize pain-in-her-ass, but she was a fabulous cook. If not for M.C.’s metabolism, she’d weigh four hundred pounds.
    â€œMary Catherine, you wouldn’t believe who I ran into at the market.” Mama beamed at her. “Joseph Rellini’s mother.”
    Just call her clueless. “Who?”
    â€œJoseph Rellini. He graduated from Boylan the year before you. Played in the band.”
    She vaguely remembered a dark-haired, stoop-shouldered boy. He had been pleasant enough, but she knew where this was heading and wasn’t about to give her mother any encouragement. Not that she needed any.
    â€œHe’s an accountant now.” Mama Riggio leaned forward. “And single. I gave her your number, told her to have him call you.”
    â€œMama, you didn’t!”
    â€œI most certainly did. Per amor del cielo, look at you! You could do worse.”
    Her brothers hooted. Melody made a sound of sympathy. M.C. glared at her mother. “I don’t need a man to complete me, Mama. I’m fine on my own. Doing great.”
    â€œEvery day at mass, I pray that you’ll come to your senses, quit that job and bring a nice young man to dinner.”
    â€œPardon me, Mother, but you are so full of—”
    Michael cut her off. “She brought her Glock. Does that count?”
    Tony jumped in. “Get used to it, Mama. She’s a lesbian.” M.C. tossed her napkin at her brother. “Up yours, Tony.”
    â€œMary Mother of God!” Mama lowered her voice. “When did this happen?”
    â€œI’m not gay, Mama. Tony’s just being a jerk.”
    â€œAs usual,” Max offered, refilling his wineglass. “For myself, I plan to play the field for a long time.”
    â€œYou’re a young man,” Mama said. “But your sister’s not getting any younger.”
    Melody, God love her, stepped in. “There’s no rush. Take as long as you need to find the right guy, M.C. Life’s too short to spend it in a so-so relationship.”
    â€œSpeaking from experience?” Tony shot back, grinning.
    Melody didn’t take the bait. “Yes,” she answered smoothly. “Experience married to the most wonderful man on the planet.”
    That brought a round of hoots and ribbing from her brothers. It also shifted Mama’s focus—and gave M.C. an opportunity to escape.
    She choked down enough of her meal for appearances and stood. “It’s been real, gang, but I have to go.”
    â€œBut we haven’t had dessert yet!” Her mother exclaimed. “Cannolis. From Capelli’s Market.”
    Capelli’s cannoli was practically its own food group. It was that good.
    But now that Mama had been tipped, there was no way she could stay without another round of “Roasting Mary Catherine.”
    She begged off, though she couldn’t escape until she had made her way around the table to kiss everyone goodbye. She was nearly to her