Notorious Nineteen

it wouldn’t be impossible to sneak a patient out,” I said.

“Yeah,” Zigler said, “except we reviewed all the video for the night when Pitch went missing, and it was all the usual stuff. Two to seven is the dead time. There aren’t even pigeons walking around between two and seven.”

“How long does it take you to make the rounds?” Morelli asked.

“A half hour. Unless something unusual happens, it’s a half hour on my feet going through the hospital and then a half hour watching the monitors.”

“When you get to the fourth floor what are the nurses doing?” I asked him.

“They’re usually at the desk, working on the charts or talking.”

“Are they ever asleep?”

“I never saw anyone sleeping. Sometimes Julie looks a little zoned out. She has a tough life. But I never saw her sleeping.”

“How about Kruger?”

“I never saw Kruger sleeping.” He looked at Briggs. “Sometimes she disappears for a while.”

“Where does she go?” I asked Zigler.

Zigler grinned. “Sometimes she gets the orderlies to diddle her in the dayroom. I figure it’s none of my business, but since you asked.”

“Do you have any idea how these patients disappeared while you were working security?” Morelli asked Zigler.

“No, sir,” Zigler said. “I think it must have been aliens. You know how they can beam you up?”

“That’s on television,” Morelli said.

“Maybe,” Zigler said.

I followed Morelli out of the hospital and we buckled ourselves into the SUV.

“Aliens,” Morelli said. “I think he was serious.”

“It is hard to explain.” And hell, I was carrying a chunk of wood around with me that I almost believed was putting ideas into my head. I was ready to believe just about anything.

We called ahead to Pino’s and ordered meatball subs. Morelli stopped at his house and got Bob and a six- pack of Bud. We picked the subs up and took everything up to my apartment. We were in front of the television, eating the subs, drinking beer, and watching a pregame show for the Mets. I heard something go phoonf from the parking lot and my living room window shattered.

Morelli vaulted over the couch, picked something off the floor, threw it out the shattered window, and a moment later there was a loud explosion from the parking lot.

I went to the window and stood next to Morelli. Three cars were furiously burning. One was Morelli’s. The Buick was fine.

“I’m thinking about marrying a woman who gets rockets launched into her living room,” Morelli said. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“You’re thinking about marrying me?”

“I’ve been thinking about marrying you for ten years,” Morelli said. “Do you want to explain this latest terrorist attack to me?”

“It’s all a misunderstanding. Some nutcase guy thinks I’m in a relationship with Ranger.”

“Are you?”

“In a relationship with Ranger? No! I’m working for him.”

“And this is why the nutcase guy just fired off a rocket into your living room?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know him by name?”

“Not exactly. Ranger’s working on it.”

Emergency vehicles were pouring into my parking lot. Fire trucks, EMTs, police cars.

“I suppose I should go downstairs and explain this to them,” Morelli said.

“What will you say?”

“I’ll say I haven’t a clue. And I’m absolutely not going to tell anyone I picked it up and chucked it out your window.” He turned when he got to the door. “I want you to call Ranger and tell him I’m not happy.”

Bob and I watched the circus in the parking lot for a while and I called Ranger.

“Morelli wants me to tell you he’s not happy,” I said to Ranger.

“I already talked to Morelli.”

“Was he happy?”

“No.”

“Your guy shot a missile into my living room.”

“Yeah, he hit Amanda Olesen’s townhouse too. He shot it into her front window.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, but the townhouse was destroyed. Amanda and Kinsey were in the back of the house when the explosion occurred.”

“Where are they now?”

“I have them in a safe house.”

“Are they going through with the wedding?” I asked.

“They’re trying to decide.”

“They should cancel. It’s too dangerous.”

“Babe, you just want to get out of wearing the pink dress.”

“True.”

Bob and I were watching the game when Morelli finally came back to the apartment. I heard the door open and slam shut, locks were flipped, and Morelli went into the kitchen. A minute later he came to the couch with a beer in his hand.

“Well?” I asked.

“It was a direct hit on my car. There’s nothing left of it.”

I bit into my lower lip to keep from smiling. I didn’t want to make matters worse by laughing at Morelli, but there was some humor to the fact that Morelli tossed the thing onto his own car. Of course, there was also the possibility that in my state of mild hysteria the line between horrible and hilarious was blurred, and it wasn’t all that funny that Morelli blew his car up.

“Sorry,” I said.

Morelli chugged down a bottle of beer. “It’s you. You’re a disaster magnet. I’m surprised this building hasn’t been wiped out by a tornado. How could it possibly have escaped a tornado?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’m serious,” Morelli said. “You’re like one of those people who keep getting hit by lightning.”

“Hey, it’s no picnic for me either. Do you think I like having rockets shot into my living room? Do you think I like getting poisoned, threatened with cremation, and forced into a pink taffeta dress?”

“Don’t forget the stun gun,” Morelli said. “You got stunned. And this all happened in one week.”

I sucked in some air and burst into tears. “You’re right,” I said, sobbing. “And it’s even worse. I got two more cars totally toasted and my arm slashed. I’m a walking time bomb.”

“Oh jeez,” Morelli said, putting his beer bottle down and wrapping his arms around me. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I hate when you cry. I got carried away with the disaster magnet thing.”

“I’m a big, humongous mess! I need an exorcist.”

He wiped away a tear that had streaked down my face. “You’re not that much of a mess, Cupcake. And to tell you the truth I don’t think an exorcist would help a lot. It’s not like you’re a biblical mess. You just have a knack for rolling in dog doo.”

I wiped my nose on the back of my hand. “That’s awful.”

“It’s not so bad. Bob rolls in dog doo, and we love Bob, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there you have it.” Morelli kissed me on the top of my head. “You know what you need? A beer. I could use another one too. Don’t go away.”