My phone rang while I sat in my car watching Diesel drive away.

"Hey cupcake," Morelli said. "Just checking in. Anything I need to know?"

"Speak of the devil. I was just going to call you. I have some information to share. Vinnie bonded out a woman named Annie Hart. She supposedly robbed a pawnshop and shot the owner in the foot."

"I remember that," Morelli said. "The pawnshop owner is a little weasel named Stanley Cramp."

"Yeah. Turns out Cramp faked the robbery and shot him-self in the foot. The gun and the necklace are in a crawl space under the back room. I can give you more details later, but you should get someone over there before Cramp decides to get rid of the evidence."

"I'll call it in. Hows everything else?"

"It's really slow at the bonds office. Only one big out-standing… and that was Annie Hart. Bob is good. He's visiting with my parents today. Diesel's in town."

"Diesel?"

"Yeah, you remember Diesel, right?"

"Ranger's half-brother."

"He's not Ranger's half-brother."

"He might as well be. They both run in the fast lane with their lights off."

"You used to do that."

"No. I was an asshole. I never actually thought I was Rat-man."

"I see your point."

"I'm locked away in a sleazoid motel, doing my cop thing. Do I need to come home?"

"Nope. I've got it all under control."

"Good to know," Morelli said. "I should have this wrapped up Tuesday or Wednesday. See you then." And he disconnected.

I cut down to Klockner Roulevard and then to Hamilton and left-turned into the Burg. I eased to a stop in front of my parents' house and killed the engine. Grandma was at the storm door, looking out at me, driven there by some mysterious inner radar that tells her when a granddaughter is approaching. Not that different from Diesel, when you think about it.

"Just in time," Grandma said to me, holding the door open. "Your sister is here, and we got a nice coffee cake from the bakery."

Bob heard my voice and came thundering down the hall, ears flopping, tongue out, google-eyed. He slid on the polished wood floor and plowed into me, knocking me into the wall.

I scratched his head and gave him a hug, and he gal-loped back to the kitchen and the coffee cake.

"He's been such a good boy," Grandma said. "It makes a house feel like a home when you got a dog in it. And he didn't hardly eat anything this time. The TV Guide and a loaf of bread, but the good thing was he horked up the plastic wrap."

Valerie was at the little kitchen table. She had the baby on her lap and coffee in front of her.

"Where are the girls?" I asked.

"Playgroup," Valerie said. "They go every day now."

I sliced off a chunk of coffee cake and out of habit I stood at the sink to eat.

My mother put a plate and fork and napkin on the table. "Sit," she said. "It's not good for your digestion to eat at the sink. You eat too fast. You don't even chew. Did you chew that piece of cake?"

I didn't know if I'd chewed it. I couldn't even remember eating it, but my hand was empty, and I had crumbs on my shirt, so I guess that said it all.

I pulled a chair out across from Valerie and sat down. It was too late to eat my cake in a civilized manner… unless I had a second piece. I checked out the waistband on my jeans. Snug. Shit.

"Sorry I made Albert faint at the table," I said to Valerie. "I thought he was sort of over the marriage phobia."

"It's hideous," Valerie said. "The man is never going to marry me. I didn't mind at first. I thought he just needed time. Now I don't know what he needs."

"He needs his head examined," Grandma said.

"He had it examined," Valerie said. "They didn't find anything."

We all pondered that for a moment.

"Anyway, it's important that we get married," Valerie said. "I'm pregnant again."

We were all dumbfounded.

"Is that good news?" Grandma asked.

"Yes. I want to have another baby with Albert," Valerie said. "I just wish I was married."

Okay, that was the deal-breaker. Albert Kloughn was go-ing down. He was going to marry my sister. I was going to make it happen.

I scraped my chair back. "Gotta go. Things to do. People to see. Is it okay if I leave Bob here just a little longer?"

"He's not here forever, is he?" my mother asked.

"No! I'll be back for him. I promise."

I hurried out of the kitchen and drove the short dis-tance to Jeanine's house. Her date was due to arrive any minute, and I thought it wouldn't hurt to do a last-minute courage check. I parked in front of her house, ran to the door, and rang the bell.

The door was thrown open, and Jeanine stood there buck naked. "Ta daaaah!" she sang out.

We locked eyes, and we both let out a shriek. I clapped my hands over my eyes, and Jeanine slammed the door shut. A minute later, the door reopened and Jeanine ap-peared, wrapped in a blanket.

"I thought you were Edward," she said.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough. And you'll be happy to learn I watched the movie three more times and practiced moaning." Her eyes rolled back in her head. "Ohhhh," she moaned. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah." She opened her eyes and looked at me. "How was that?"

A door opened two doors down, and an elderly man looked out at us. He shook his head and muttered some-thing about lesbians and retreated back into his house.

"That was pretty good," I said, "but you might want to adjust the volume."

"Do you think the naked greeting is too much? I figured I'd get it over and done, so we could make our six o'clock dinner reservation. I was afraid if I waited until after din-ner I'd get nervous and throw up."

"Glad to see you've got it all figured out."

Jeanine took a deep breath and cracked her knuckles. "Maybe I need another drinky poo."

"Probably you've had enough drinky poos," I told her. "You don't want to get horizontal until your date shows up."

I jogged back to the Escape, slipped behind the wheel, and punched in Charlene Klinger's number.

"He called," she yelled into the phone. "He wants to take me to dinner. What do I do?"

"You go to dinner with him."

"It's not that simple. I don't know what to wear. And I need a babysitter. Where am I going to get a babysitter at this late notice?"

"I'm on my way" I told her, putting the car in gear. "Ill be there in a half hour."

Junior opened the front door and let me in.

"Where's your mom?" I asked.

"Upstairs. She's going nuts because she can't find any-thing to wear, and she got her hair stuck in a torture de-vice."

I trooped upstairs and found Charlene in the bathroom with a curling iron in her hand.

"Stephanie Plum, full-service matchmaker, available for wardrobe consultation and babysitting," I told Charlene.

"Are you sure you can handle the kids?" she asked me.

"Piece of cake."

Truth is, I'd rather get run over by a truck than spend an hour with Charlene's kids, but I didn't know what else to do.

"I thought I'd wear this pants suit," she said. "What do you think?"

"The pants suit is good, but the shirt isn't sexy."

"Oh God, am I supposed to be sexy?"

I ran to her bedroom and sifted through the pile of clothes on her bed. I found a V-necked sweater that I thought had potential and brought it into the bathroom.

"Try this," I told her.

"I can't wear that. It's too low. I bought it by mistake."

I unbuttoned her out of the shirt and dropped the sweater over her head. I took a step back, and we both looked in the mirror.

Charlene had a lot of cleavage. "Perfect," I said. "Now you're a domestic goddess and a sex goddess."

Charlene looked down at her boobs. "I don't want to give him the wrong idea."

"And that would be, what?"

"I don't know. I'm not good at this. I never have a sec-ond date. Everyone always disappears halfway through the first date. What am I supposed to do on a second date? Should I… you know?"

"No! You don't you know until the third date. And then, only if ............