when the bond had been posted, but they didn't do me any good from this angle.
'Could be him, but I can't swear to it without seeing his face,' I said. The front door of the house opened and the man disappeared inside. The door closed shut.
'We could go knock on the door nice and polite and ask if he's the man,' Ranger said. I nodded in agreement. 'That might work.'
We stood and adjusted our gun belts.
I was dressed in dark jeans, long-sleeved black turtleneck, navy Kevlar vest, and red Keds. I had my curly, shoulder-length brown hair tied in a ponytail, tucked under a navy ball cap. I wore my five-shot .38 Smith & Wesson Chief's Special in a black nylon webbed hip holster with cuffs and a defense spray wedged into the back of the belt. We walked across the lawn and Ranger rapped on the front door to the house with a flashlight that was eighteen inches long and eight inches round at the reflector. It gave good light, and Ranger said it was excellent for making serious head dents. Fortunately, I've never had to witness any bludgeoning. I'd fainted flat out watching
When no one answered I stepped to the side and unholstered my revolver. Standard procedure for the backup partner. In my case, it was more or less an empty gesture. I religiously went to the range to practice, but truth is I'm hopelessly unmechanical. I harbor an irrational fear of guns, and most of the time keep my little S & W empty of bullets so I won't accidentally blast the toes off my foot. On the one occasion I'd had to shoot somebody I'd been so flustered I'd forgotten to take my gun out of my pocketbook before pulling the trigger. I wasn't eager to repeat the performance.
Ranger rapped again, with more force. 'Fugitive apprehension agent,' he called out.
'Open the door.'
This drew a response, and the door was opened, not by Julia Cenetta or Kenny Mancuso, but by Joe Morelli, a Trenton Police Department plainclothesman.
We all stood silent for a moment, everyone surprised to see everyone else.
'That your truck in the driveway?' Ranger finally asked Morelli.
'Yeah,' Morelli said. 'Just got it.'
Ranger nodded. 'Good-looking vehicle.'
Morelli and I were both from the burg, a blue-collar chunk of Trenton where dysfunctional drunks were still called bums and only pansies went to Jiffy Lube for an oil change. Morelli had a long history of taking advantage of my naivete. I'd recently had the opportunity to even the score, and now we were in a period of reevaluation, both of us jockeying around for position.
Julia peeked at us from behind Morelli.
'So what happened?' I said to Julia. 'I thought Kenny was supposed to stop around tonight?'
'Yeah, right,' she said. 'Like he ever does anything he says.'
'Did he call?'
'Nothing. No call. Nothing. He's probably with Denise Barkolowski. Why don't you go knock on her stupid door?'
Ranger stayed stoic, but I knew he was smiling inside. 'I'm out of here,' he said. 'Don't like to get involved in these domestic unpleasantries.'
Morelli had been watching me. 'What happened to your hair?' he asked.
'It's under my hat.'
He had his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, 'Very sexy.' Morelli thought everything was sexy.
'It's late,' Julia said. 'I gotta go to work tomorrow.' I looked at my watch. It was ten-thirty. 'You'll let me know if you hear from Kenny?'
'Yeah, sure.'
Morelli followed me out. We walked to his truck and stared at it in silence for a while, thinking our own thoughts. His last car had been a Jeep Cherokee. It had been bombed and blown to smithereens. Fortunately for Morelli, he
