check.
Rex backed out of his soup can and gave me the once-over. He looked startled at my appearance, so I explained my day. When I got to the part about driving Elliot around in Lula’s trunk, I burst out laughing. My God, what had I been thinking! It was an absurd thing to do. I laughed until I cried, and then I realized I was no longer laughing. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I was sobbing. After a while my nose was running, and my mouth was open but the sobs were soundless.
“Shit,” I said to Rex. “This is exhausting.”
I blew my nose, dragged myself into the bathroom, stripped and stood under the shower until my skin was scorched and my mind was empty. I got dressed in sweats and cotton socks and cooked my hair into ten inches of red frizz with the hair dryer. I looked like I’d taken a bath with the toaster, but I was way beyond caring. I collapsed onto the bed and instantly fell asleep.
I came awake slowly, my eyes swollen from crying, my mind gauzy and stupid. The clock at bedside said nine- thirty. Someone was knocking. I shuffled into the hall and opened the door without ceremony.
It was Morelli, holding a pizza box and a six-pack.
“You should always look before you open the door,” he said.
“I did look.”
“You’re lying again.”
He was right. I hadn’t looked. And he was right about being careful.
My eyes locked on the pizza box. “You sure know how to get a person’s attention.”
Morelli smiled. “Hungry?”
“Are you coming in, or what?”
Morelli dumped the pizza and beer on the coffee table and shrugged out of his jacket. “I’d like to go over the day’s events.”
I brought plates and a roll of paper towels to the coffee table and sat beside Morelli on the couch. I wolfed down a piece of pizza and told him everything.
By the time I was done, Morelli was on his second beer. “You have any additional thoughts?”
“Only that Gail probably lied to us, so she wouldn’t get in trouble with her landlady. Elliot had full rigor when we found him, so he’d been dead awhile. My guess is either Gail told Mo where to find Elliot, or else Elliot was in Gail’s room when Mo showed up.”
Morelli nodded affirmation. “You’re watching the right TV shows,” he said. “We ran the plates on the tan car. The car belonged to Elliot Harp.”
“Did you find Mo’s connection to Montgomery Street?”
“Not yet, but we have men in the neighborhood. The garage was used by a lot of people. It’s possible to buy a key card on a monthly basis. No ID necessary. Freedom Church members use the garage. Local merchants use it.”
I ate another slice of pizza. I wanted to bring up the topic of Mickey Maglio, but I didn’t feel secure about the accusation. Besides, I’d mentioned it once. Morelli was too good a cop to let it slide by and be forgotten.
“So now what?” I asked. “You want to watch some TV?”
Morelli looked at his watch. “Think I’ll pass. I should be getting home.” He stood and stretched. “Been a long day.”
I followed him to the door. “Thanks for helping me dispose of Elliot.”
“Hey,” Morelli said, punching me lightly on the arm. “What are friends for?”
I blinked. Friends? Morelli and me? “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on.”
Boy, was that ever the truth. No flirting. No grabbing. Sexist remarks held to a minimum. I narrowed my eyes as I watched him walk to the elevator. There was only one possible explanation. Morelli had a girlfriend. Morelli was enamored with someone else, and I was off the hook.
He disappeared behind the elevator doors, and I retreated into my apartment.
Hooray, I told myself. But I didn’t actually feel like hooray. I felt like someone had thrown a party, and I hadn’t been included on the guest list. I puzzled on this, trying to determine the cause for my discomfort. The obvious reason, of course, was that I was jealous. I didn’t like the obvious reason, so I kept working for another. Finally I gave up in defeat. Truth is, there was unfinished business between Morelli and me. A couple months ago we’d had Buick interruptus, and as much as I hated to admit it, I’d been thinking of him in torrid terms ever since.
And then there was the house move, which seemed so out of character for Morelli the bachelor. But suppose Morelli was thinking of cohabitating? My God, suppose Morelli was thinking of marriage?
I didn’t at all like the idea of Morelli getting married. It would wreck my fantasy life, and it would put added pressure on me. My mother would be saying to me…Look! Even Joe Morelli is married!
I dropped onto the couch and punched up the television, but there wasn’t anything worth seeing. I cleaned the beer cans and pizza off the coffee table. I plugged the telephone back into the wall and reset the answering machine. I tried the television again.
I had a third beer, and when that was done I felt slightly buzzed. Damn Morelli, I thought. He has a lot of nerve getting involved with some other woman.
The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became. Who was this woman, anyway?
I called Sue Ann Grebek and discreetly asked who the hell Morelli was boffing, but Sue Ann didn’t know. I called
