You've been busy using your breaking and entering skills," I said. "I just enter. I don't usually break." "You broke down Pitch's door." "Lost my temper." -Ranger and Stephanie

The note wasn't signed, but I could tell it was from Morelli by the way my nipples got hard.

That might work," I said. "I'm good at faking it." This led to a couple moments of uncomfortable silence from both of us. "You didn't mean... ?" Morelli asked. "No. Of course not." "Never?" "Maybe once." His eyes narrowed. "Once?" "It's all that comes to mind. It was the time we were late for your Uncle Spud's birthday party." "I remember that. That was great. You're telling me you faked it?" "We were late! I couldn't concentrate. It seemed like the best way to go.

Happens to me all the time...People are always underestimating my dumbness.

He reached out, opened the glove compartment, and took out a gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .38 five-shot special. It looked a lot like my gun. "I stopped by your apartment this morning and picked this up for you," Ranger said. "I found it in the cookie jar." "Tough guys always keep their gun in the cookie jar." "Name one." "Rockford." Ranger grinned. "I stand corrected.

You've been busy using your breaking and entering skills," I said. "I just enter. I don't usually break." "You broke down Pitch's door." "Lost my temper." -Ranger and Stephanie

We were discussing a grisly double murder and Rodriguez was telling us all this in the same sort of conversational tone a person might use to pass on a favorite lasagna recipe. And I was responding with the same enthusiasm a new cook might show. I was simultaneously horrified and impressed with myself.