There's a small possibility that I might be a murder suspect" Stephanie

I rolled my eyes so far into the top of my head I almost fell over backward.

When I was painting, I was painting stories I was telling myself. When I look back at it, moving to writing was a very natural progression for me.

My father was in the kitchen putting a new washer in the kitchen faucet. He looked relieved to see Morelli standing in the hallway. He'd probably prefer I bring home someone useful, like a butcher or a car mechanic, but I guess cops are a step up from undertakers.

Ranger declined the butterscotch pudding, not wanting to disrupt the consistency of his blood sugar level. I had two puddings and coffee, choosing to keep my pancreas at peak performance. Use it or lose it is my philosophy.

As Stephanie and Lula were going after the bad guys, Lula was making preparations from the trunk of her Firebird. Stephanie looked inside and stopped breathing for a beat. "That's a rocket launcher!" "Yep," Lula said. "It's a big boy. I got it at a yard sale in the projects.

Turns out, that's how it is with weddings. You just keep getting in deeper and deeper until you want to throw up.