“I already told you.”
It wouldn’t take much to wear Gail down. Life had already worn her down about as far as she could go. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d obviously gotten up early to do some pharmacological experimentation.
“What was the deal with Mo and Elliot? They did business together, didn’t they?”
“Yuh. But I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. I wouldn’t be a party.”
It was almost noon when I got to the office.
Lula was shaking a chicken leg at Connie. “I’m telling you, you don’t know nothing about fried chicken. You Italians don’t have the right genes. You Italians only know about stuff with tomato paste on it.”
“You know what you are?” Connie said, pawing through the chicken bucket, settling on a breast. “You’re a racist bigot.”
Lula chewed off some of the leg meat. “I got a right to be. I’m a minority.”
“What? You think Italians aren’t minorities?”
“Not anymore. Italians were last year’s minorities. Time to move over, baby.”
I helped myself to a napkin and a mystery part. “Is Vinnie in?”
“Hey Vinnie,” Connie yelled. “Are you in? Stephanie’s here.”
Vinnie was immediately at the door. “This better be good news.”
“I want to know about Mo’s boyfriend. The one you saw in New Hope.”
“What about him?”
“How do you know they were lovers? Were they kissing? Were they holding hands?”
“No. They were excited. I don’t mean like they had a hard-on. I mean like they were charged. And they were looking at pictures of each other. And this other guy was as queer as a three-dollar bill.”
“Did you see the pictures?”
“No. I was across the room.”
“How do you know they were of Mo and his friend?”
“I guess I don’t, but I know they were dirty.”
“Must have been one of those psychic things,” Lula said. “Like the Great Carnac.”
“Hey,” Vinnie said. “I know dirty.”
No one would argue with that.
“Were you ever able to get a name?” I asked.
“No,” Vinnie said. “Nobody knows nothing about Mo. He must not go through the regular channels.”
“I need to talk to you in private,” I said to Vinnie, motioning him into his office, closing the door behind me. “I have a new network I want you to tap.”
Vinnie practically got drooly when I told him where I wanted him to look.
“That Mo!” he said. “Who would have thought?”
I left Vinnie to his task, and I borrowed Connie’s phone and dialed Morelli.
“What do you know from my two assailants?” I asked Morelli.
There was a pregnant pause. “We didn’t get anything from either of them. They got a lawyer, and they walked.”
I sensed there was more. “But?”
“But we did some background checks and came up with an interesting association. If I tell you, you have to promise not to act on it.”
“Sure. I promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“This must be excellent.”
“I’m not telling you over the phone,” Morelli said. “Meet me at the luncheonette across from St. Francis.”
Morelli ordered a coffee and sandwich at the counter and carried it to the booth. “Been waiting long?”
“A couple minutes.”
Morelli ate some of his sandwich. “When I give you this information, you have to promise not to jump out of your seat and act on it. We have men in place. You barge in, and you’ll screw everything up.”
“If I stay away from the site will you promise to bring me in when Mo comes forward?”
“Yes.”
We locked eyes. We both knew he was lying. It wasn’t the sort of promise a cop could keep.
“If I’m not present when Mo is captured there’s no guarantee Vinnie will get his bond returned.”
