“What’s with the Coke?” Morelli asked. “No wine? No exotic drink with a jalapeño in it?”
“I’m trying to clean up my life.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It’s occurred to me that you’ve reached a level of maturity that I envy. You have a respected job that provides you with a stable income. You own a house, and it doesn’t get firebombed. You can scramble an egg and grill a burger. You have your own washer and dryer. You have a dog.”
“You have a hamster,” Morelli said.
“I love Rex, but he doesn’t rush out of his soup can to say hello when I walk into my apartment. I chose to have a hamster because I didn’t think I could manage the responsibility of having a larger pet. You have friends and family and a routine. You play poker with guys you’ve known all your life. You helped your brother put a swing set together. You decided you wanted to get married, and you acted on it. You got rid of your billiard table and bought dining room furniture.”
Morelli studied his half-empty glass of beer for a beat before looking across the table at me. “You’re trying to tell me something.”
“I feel like I need some time to think. I’ve got some things going on in my life right now that I have to straighten out.”
“Can I help?”
“I have to do this myself.”
“Are we breaking up?”
“No! I just want a couple days to get a grip on myself.”
“Okay. What about sex?”
“No sex.”
“Damn. I was hoping the straightening out didn’t mean no sex.”
“But dinner is fine,” I said. “We can have dinner.”
“That’s better than nothing. Can we still fool around?”
“Yes. A little.”
We ordered burgers, fries, onion rings, and slaw.
“I don’t feel good about you staying in your apartment,” Morelli said. “What happens if Zoran shows up on your doorstep again? What happens if he comes after you in the parking lot?”
I pulled the SIG Sauer out of my purse and laid it on the table.
“Whoa,” Morelli said. “When you said you were getting a grip on yourself, you were serious. This is a nice gun. I assume Ranger gave it to you. Can you shoot it?”
I took my certificate out of my purse and handed it to Morelli. “I can shoot it, and I’m certified to carry.”
“I’d like to say this makes me feel better, but I’ve got a knot in my stomach.”
I caught motion in my peripheral vision. It was Herbert.
“This is so cool!” he said. “I came in to get a grilled cheese and here you are. I get a grilled cheese here a lot. Especially when I’m involved in one of my entrepreneurial projects. Usually, I come in late at night, but my mom is at a prayer supper tonight, so I’m on my own. I could have gone to the prayer supper too, but you have to listen to a lot of praying and sermoning before they let you eat. If it goes on too long, I get low blood sugar. And I think Jesus is a good guy and everything, and you can’t go wrong believing in God, but there’s a time and place for everything. Am I right?” He looked at Morelli. “Hey, I know you. You ran into me at the football game. Boy, that was something. I hope you didn’t hurt yourself. I was okay. You haven’t changed much except you’re older.”
Morelli gave me a sidewise glance.
“I heard you’re a cop now,” Herbert said to Morelli. “That’s great. And Stephanie said you guys are engaged. Congrats on that. Gee, here I am talking just like we were in high school again, and you might not even remember me. Herbert Slovinski. I played the clarinet in the band.”
“I remember,” Morelli said. “What are you doing now?”
“I’m an entrepreneur,” Herbert said. “I was seriously thinking about being an undertaker but I’m not so sure anymore. I could also be a spy or a truck driver. Okay, probably not a spy. I say I’d like to be a spy, but that’s just fun talking.” He looked down at my gun, lying on the table. “Holy cow, whose gun is that?”