bedroom.
Ranger and I searched through the kitchen, looking for an address book, riffling through bills carelessly heaped in front of the toaster oven.
It was easy to imagine Morelli at home in his apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, kicking off his shoes, reading his mail. A wave of remorse washed over me when I realized Morelli would most likely never again be free to enjoy any of those simple rituals. He’d killed a man and in the process had effectively ended his own life as well. It was such a hideous waste. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have gotten himself into this godawful mess? How do these things happen to people?
“Nothing here,” Ranger said. He punched the playback button on Morelli’s answering machine. “Hi hotstuff,” a female voice cooed. “This is Carlene. Give me a call back.” Beep.
“Joseph Anthony Morelli, it’s your mother. Are you there? Hello? Hello?” Beep.
Ranger turned the machine over and copied the security code and special message code. “You take these numbers and you can access his messages from an outside phone. Maybe something’ll turn up.”
We moved on to the bedroom, going through his drawers, leafing through books and magazines, studying the few photographs on his dresser. The photographs were family. Nothing useful. No pictures of Carmen. For the most part his drawers had been emptied. He’d taken all his socks and underwear. Too bad. I’d been sort of looking forward to seeing his underwear.
We ended up back in the kitchen.
“This place is clean,” Ranger said. “You’re not going to find anything to help you here. And I doubt he’ll return. Looks to me like he took everything he needed.” He lifted a set of keys from a small hook on the kitchen wall and dropped them into my hand. “Hang on to these. No sense bothering the super if you want to get in again.”
We locked Morelli’s apartment and slid the super’s master key through a slot in his door. Ranger eased his body into the Mercedes, put on a pair of mirrored shades, powered back his sun roof, punched up a tape with a heavy bass, and rolled out of the parking lot like Batman.
I gave a resigned sigh and looked at my Nova. It was dripping oil onto the pavement. Two parking slots away Morelli’s new red and gold Jeep Cherokee sat gleaming in the sunshine. I could feel the weight of his keys dangling from my finger. A house key and two car keys. I decided it wouldn’t do any harm to take a closer look, so I opened the door to the Cherokee and peered inside. The car still smelled new. The instrument panel was dust-free, the rugs were freshly vacuumed and unstained, the red upholstery was smooth and perfect. The car had five on the floor, four-wheel drive, and enough horses to make a man proud. It was equipped with air-conditioning, an Alpine radio and tape deck, a two-way police radio, a cellular phone, and a CB scanner. It was a terrific car. And it belonged to Morelli. It didn’t seem fair that a scofflaw like him should have such a great car and I should have such a piece of shit.
Probably as long as I had the car open, I should start it up for him, I thought. It wasn’t good for a car to sit around and not get driven. Everybody knows that. I took a deep breath and cautiously maneuvered myself behind the wheel. I adjusted the seat and the rearview mirror. I put my hands to the wheel and tested the feel of it. I could catch Morelli if I had a car like this, I told myself. I was smart. I was tenacious. All I needed was a car. I wondered if I should drive it. Maybe simply running it wasn’t enough. Maybe the car needed to go around the block. Better yet, maybe I should drive it for a day or two to really work the kinks out.
Okay, who was I trying to kid? I was contemplating stealing Morelli’s car. Not steal, I reasoned. Commandeer. After all, I was a bounty hunter, and probably I could commandeer a car if an emergency situation arose. I glanced over at the Nova. Looked like an emergency to me.
There was an added advantage to snitching Morelli’s car. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it. And if he was pissed off enough, maybe he’d do something stupid and come after it.
I turned the key in the ignition and tried to ignore the fact that my heart was beating double-time. The secret to being a successful bounty hunter is being able to seize the moment, I told myself. Flexibility. Adaptation. Creative thought. All necessary attributes. And it didn’t hurt to have balls.
I did some slow breathing so I wouldn’t hyperventilate and crash my first stolen car. I had one more item on my day’s itinerary. I needed to visit the Step In Bar and Grill, Carmen’s last known place of employment. The Step In was located on lower Stark Street, two blocks from the gym. I debated going home to change into something more casual, but in the end decided to stick with the suit. No matter what I wore, I wasn’t going to blend in with the bar regulars.
I found a parking space half a block away. I locked the car, and I walked the short distance to the bar only to discover the bar was closed. The door was padlocked. The windows were boarded. No explanation was given. I wasn’t all that disappointed. After the incident in the gym, I hadn’t been looking forward to breaking into another bastion of Stark Street manhood. I scurried back to the Cherokee and drove up and down Stark Street on the long shot that I might see Morelli. By the fifth pass it was getting old and my gas was low, so I gave it up. I checked the glove compartment for credit cards but found none. Swell. No gas. No money. No plastic.
If I was going to keep after Morelli I was going to need living expenses. I couldn’t keep existing hand to mouth. Vinnie was the obvious answer to my problem. Vinnie was going to have to advance me some cash. I stopped for a light and took a moment to study Morelli’s phone. I powered it up and his number blinked on. How convenient. I figured I’d go whole hog. Why stop at stealing Morelli’s car? Might as well run his phone bill up, too.
I called Vinnie’s office, and Connie answered.
“Is Vinnie in?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “He’ll be here all afternoon.”
“I’ll be around in about ten minutes. I need to talk to him.”
“Did you catch Morelli?”
“No, but I’ve confiscated his car.”
“Has it got a sun roof?”
I rolled my eyes skyward. “No sun roof.”
“Bummer,” she said.
I hung up and turned down Southard, trying to decide on a reasonable advance. I needed enough money to get
