11 Eleven On Top Read Online Free PDF

wedding. I'm supposed to be her maid of honor and somehow through my lack of participation and a fabric swatch inaccuracy I've been ordered a gown that makes me look like a giant eggplant.
    “We heard you quit your job,” my mother said to me. “Thank goodness. I can finally sleep at night knowing you're not running around the worst parts of town chasing after criminals. And I understand you have a wonderful job at the button factory. Marjorie Kuzak called yesterday and told us all about it. Her daughter works in the employment office.”
    “Actually, I sort of got fired from that job,” I said.
    “Already? How could you possibly get fired on your first day?”
    “It's complicated. I don't suppose you know anybody who's hiring?”
    “What kind of job are you looking for?” Grandma asked.
    “Professional. Something with career advancement potential.”
    “I saw a sign up at the cleaners,” Grandma said. “I don't know about career advancement, but they do a lot of professional pressing. I see a lot of people taking their business suits there.”
    “I was hoping for something a little more challenging.”
    “Dry cleaning's challenging,” Grandma said. “It's not easy getting all them spots out. And you gotta have people skills. I heard them talking behind the counter about how hard it was to find someone with people skills.”
    “And no one would shoot at you,” my mother said. “No one ever robs a dry cleaner.”
    I had to admit, that part appealed to me. It would be nice not to have to worry about getting shot. Maybe working at the dry cleaners would be an okay temporary job until the right thing came along.
    I got myself a cup of coffee and poked through the refrigerator, searching for food. I settled on a piece of apple pie and carted the coffee and pie back to the dining room, where my mom was still arranging the paper tables.
    “What's going on in the Burg?” I asked her.
    “Harry Farstein died yesterday. Heart attack. He's at Stiva's.”
    “He's gonna have a viewing tonight,” Grandma said. "It's gonna be a good one, too. His lodge will be there.
    And Lydia Farstein is the drama queen of the Burg. She'll be carrying on something awful. If you haven't got anything better to do, you should come to the viewing with me. I could use a ride."
    Grandma loved going to viewings. Stiva's Funeral Home was the social center of the Burg. I thought having my thumb amputated would be a preferred activity.
    “And everyone's going to be talking about the Barroni thing,” Grandma said. “I can't believe he hasn't turned up. It's like he was abducted by Martians.”
    Okay, now this interested me. Morelli was working on the Barroni disappearance. And Ranger was working on the Gorman disappearance, which might be connected to the Barroni disappearance. I was glad I wasn't working on either of those cases, but on the other hand, I felt a smidgeon left out. So sue me, I'm nosy.
    “Sure,” I said. “I'll pick you up at seven o'clock.”
    “Your father got gravy on his gray slacks,” my mother said. "If you're going to apply for a job at the cleaner, would you mind taking the slacks with you?
    It would save me a trip."
    A half hour later, I had a job with Kan Klean. The hours were seven to three. They were open seven days a week, and I agreed to work weekends. The pay wasn't great, but I could wear jeans and a T-shirt to work, and they confirmed my mother's suspicion that they'd never been held up and that to date none of their employees had been shot while on the job. I handed over the gravy-stained slacks and agreed to show up at seven the next morning.
    I didn't feel quite as nauseated as I had after getting the button factory job. So I was making progress, right?
    I drove three blocks down Hamilton and stopped at the bonds office to say hello.
    “Look what the wind blew in,” Lula said when she saw me. “I heard you got the job at the button factory. How come you're not working?”
    “I spent the night