“I’m not going nowhere,” Jackie said.
Two hours dragged by without further information. We’d eaten all the pastries and were forced to eat the oranges.
“Don’t like this,” Jackie said. “Don’t like being cooped up in institutions. Whole fucking place smells like canned green beans.”
“Spend much time in institutions, have you?”
“My share.”
She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, and I didn’t actually want to know anyway. I fidgeted in my chair, looked around the room, and spotted Dorsey talking to the clerk. He was nodding, getting answers to questions. The clerk pointed to Jackie and me, and Dorsey ambled over.
“How’s Lula?” he asked. “Any news?”
“She’s in surgery.”
He settled himself into the seat next to me. “We haven’t been able to pick up Ramirez yet. You have any idea where he might be? He say anything interesting before you started recording?”
“He said he was watching me pull Lula through the window. And he knew the police were in my apartment. He must have been close.”
“Probably on a car phone.”
I agreed.
“Here’s my card.” He wrote a number on the back. “This is my home phone. You see Ramirez, or you get another call, get in touch right away.”
“It’ll be hard for him to hide,” I said. “He’s a local celebrity. He’s easy to recognize.”
Dorsey returned his pen to an inside jacket pocket, and I got a glimpse of his hip holster. “There are a lot of people in this city who’ll go out of their way to hide and protect Benito Ramirez. We’ve been this route with him before.”
“Yes, but you’ve never had a tape.”
“True. The tape might make a difference.”
“Won’t make no difference,” Jackie said when Dorsey left. “Ramirez do what he want. Nobody cares about him beating on a whore.”
“We care,” I said to Jackie. “We can stop him. We can get Lula to testify against him.”
“Hunh,” Jackie said. “You don’t know much.”
It was three before we were allowed to see Lula. She hadn’t regained consciousness and was in ICU. Our visit was restricted to ten minutes each. I squeezed her hand and promised her she’d be okay. When my time was up, I told Jackie I had an appointment I needed to keep. She said she was staying until Lula opened her eyes.
I got to Sunny’s a half hour before Gazarra. I paid my fee, bought a box of shells, and went back to the range. I shot a few with the hammer pulled back, and then settled in for serious practice. I envisioned Ramirez in front of the target. I aimed for his heart, his balls, his nose.
Gazarra came on the range at four-thirty. He dropped a new box of shells on my loading table and took the booth next to me. By the time I was done with both boxes I was pleasantly relaxed and feeling comfortable with my gun. I loaded five rounds and slid the gun back into my bag. I tapped Gazarra on the shoulder and motioned that I was done.
He holstered his Glock and followed me out. We waited until we were in the parking lot to talk.
“I heard the call come in,” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t get to you. I was in the middle of something. I saw Dorsey at the station. He said you were cool. Said you switched on the recorder when Ramirez came on the line.”
“You should have seen me five minutes before. I couldn’t remember 911.”
“I don’t suppose you’d consider taking a vacation?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“You got your gun in your pocketbook?”
“Hell no, that would be breaking the law.”
Gazarra sighed. “Just don’t let anyone see it, okay? And call me if you get spooked. You’re welcome to stay with Shirley and me for as long as you want.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I checked on the plate number you gave me. The plates belong to a vehicle seized for a parking violation, impounded, and never retrieved.”
“I saw Morelli driving said vehicle.”
“He probably borrowed it.”
We both smiled at the thought of Morelli driving a vehicle stolen from the impound yard.
“What about Carmen Sanchez? Does she have a car?”
Gazarra dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. “This is the make and her license number. It hasn’t been impounded.
“You want me to follow you home? Make sure your apartment’s safe?”
