“Too late,” I said to him. “Your mother spotted you. She’s making her way through the crowd.”
Moments later, his mother wrapped her arms around him and gave him kisses. “You wore the new sweater,” she said. “It looks nice. Did you give Uncle the present?”
“It’s on the table by the door,” Morelli said.
His mother turned to me and gave me a hug and kisses. “You always look so pretty!” she said. “It was nice of you to come to our party. We think of you as family.” She looked over her shoulder at Morelli when she said it. It was as good as When are you going to marry her and get her pregnant?
Morelli’s crazy Grandma Bella followed in his mother’s wake.
“Joseph!” she said, hugging and kissing Morelli. “My favorite. My favorite. Did you give Uncle his present? He doesn’t deserve anything. He’s worthless.”
“A fine way to talk about your brother on his birthday,” Morelli’s mother said.
“He’s lucky I don’t give him the eye. It’s only because we’re blood.”
Bella has been in this country for more than fifty years, but she speaks broken English and she dresses like a Sicilian extra in a Godfather movie.
“Who’s this?” Bella said, looking at me. “I know who you are. I know your family. The women are gypsies. Hungarians.”
“They’re good women,” Morelli’s mother said. “And Stephanie’s father is Italian.”
“Poor man,” Bella said. “They cast a gypsy spell on him. They’re all gold diggers.” She shook her finger at Morelli. “You stay away from this one. Look at her, she wears slut clothes.”
“Not yet,” Morelli said, “but I have high hopes for later tonight.”
“You should visit the food table,” Morelli’s mother said to him. “There’s meatballs in red sauce and macaroni. I think Bess got the antipasto at Giovichinni’s but it’s still good. And your aunt Lou made the ricotta cake that you like.”
Morelli draped an arm around me and steered me to the food table. “You handled that really well,” he said. “You didn’t even punch Grandma in the face.”
“Do you think this dress is slutty?”
“No, it’s pretty and a little sexy. If you told me that you weren’t wearing underwear it might approach slutty.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“There’s still time,” Morelli said, surveying the food. “The lines are getting blurred in my family between a birthday buffet and an after-burial party buffet. They’re all looking the same.”
“There’s a cake with candles at this one.”
“There’s the difference. I missed the cake. It’s hiding behind Mrs. Mazzerella’s noodle casserole.”
Morelli’s phone buzzed. He looked at the text message and stepped aside to make a phone call. I went to help myself to a dinner roll and came breast to eyes with Uncle Sergio.
Uncle Sergio took a dollar bill out of his pocket and jammed it into the low neckline of my dress. “I was wondering when the strippers would get here,” he said.
My mouth dropped open and I looked over at Morelli. He was in full-on cop mode, nodding and listening, serious.
“I’m not a stripper,” I said. “I’m Joseph’s girlfriend.”
Sergio squinted his eyes and looked as if he was trying to raise his head to make eye, or at least chin, contact. “What’s that, chicky?”
“I’m Joseph’s girlfriend,” I yelled.
Sergio’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Oooooh. I didn’t know.” He took another crumpled bill out of his pocket, shoved it into my dress with the first bill, and winked at me. “High class,” he said.
Joe disconnected and returned to the food table. Under the serious cop face, I could detect some excitement. He looked at Uncle Sergio and then at the cash flow coming out of my chest. He removed the bills and handed them back to Sergio. “Happy birthday, Uncle Sergio,” he said. “Afraid we have to leave. Something came up at work.”
Uncle Sergio looked disappointed. “What? No stripper? Please tell me someone at least hired the mooner.”
We were out the door and running through the drizzle to Morelli’s car before his mother could object.
“And?” I asked.
“That was a courtesy call. There’s a dead guy in Hamilton Township, and he’s missing part of his tongue. They think the dog might have eaten it.”