took off. I had my hand on the door when the phone rang.
'It's for you,' my mother said. 'It's Vinnie.'
'I don't want to talk to him. Tell him I've already left.' The cell phone rang just as I hit Hamilton.
'You should have talked to me at home,' Vinnie said. 'It would have been cheaper.'
'You're breaking up . . . lousy connection.'
'Don't give me that lousy connection crap.'
I made some static sounds.
'And I'm not going to fall for that phony static, either. Make sure you get your keester in here this morning.'
I didn't see Morelli lurking in Spiro's parking lot, but I assumed he was there. There were two vans and a truck with a cap. Both good possibilities.
I collected Spiro and headed for the funeral home. When I stopped for the light at Hamilton and Gross, we both turned our attention to the Exxon station.
'Maybe we should stop in and ask a few questions,' Spiro said.
'What kind of questions?'
'Questions about the furniture truck. Just for the hell of it. I guess it would be interesting to see if Moogey was the one who took the caskets.'
I figured I had a couple choices. I could torture him by saying, what's the point? Let's just get on with our lives. And then I'd drive right on by. Or I could play along to see how it goes. There was definitely some merit to torturing Spiro, but my best instincts told me to let him run with the ball and tag along.
The bays were open. Most likely Sandeman was there. Big deal. Compared to Kenny, Sandeman was starting to look small-time. Cubby Delio was working the office. Spiro and I ambled in together.
Cubby snapped to attention at the sight of Spiro. Little prick that he was, Spiro still represented Stiva's mortuary, and Stiva threw a lot of business to the station. All of Stiva's cars were serviced and gassed here.
'I heard about your arm,' Cubby said to Spiro. 'Damn shame. I know you and Kenny used to be friends. I guess he just went crazy. That's what everyone says.' Spiro passed it off with a wave of his hand that implied it was nothing more than an annoyance. He pivoted on his heel and looked out the office window at the truck, still parked in front of the bay. 'I wanted to ask you about the Macko truck. Do you always service that truck? Does it come in regularly?'
'Yep. Macko has an account, just like you. They've got two trucks, and we do both of them.'
'Who usually brings them in? Usually the same guy?'
'Usually it's Bucky or Biggy. They've been driving for Macko for a lot of years. Is there a problem? You looking to get some furniture?'
'Thinking about it,' Spiro said.
'It's a good company. Family run. Keep their trucks in real good condition.' Spiro stuck his injured arm in his jacket. Smal man imitates Napoleon. 'Looks like you haven't found a replacement for Moogey.'
'Thought I had a guy, but he didn't work out. Hard to replace Moogey. When Moogey was running the station I hardly had to be here. Could take a day off once a week to go to the track. Even after he got shot in the knee, he was still reliable. Still came to work.' I suspected Spiro and I had parallel thoughts, and I was thinking that maybe Moogey borrowed the truck on one of those track days. Of course, if he borrowed the truck, someone else would have to be minding the store. Or someone else would have to be driving the truck.
'It's hard to get good help,' Spiro said. 'I have the same problem.'
'I've got a good mechanic,' Cubby said. 'Sandeman's got his own ways, but he's a damn good mechanic. The rest of the people come and go. Don't need a rocket scientist to pump gas or change a tire. If I could find someone to work full time in the office, I'd be set.'
Spiro did some oily chitchat and oozed himself out of the office.
'You know any of the guys who work here?' he asked me.
