We both shook our heads no.
'When you see him you'll understand.'
We followed Sally in through the kitchen entrance.
'If I go through the front I'll get fucking mobbed,' he said. 'These people are animals.'
We went down a dreary narrow hall to a back room. The room was filled with smoke and noise and the Lovelies. All five of them. All dressed in various forms of leather . . . with the exception of Sugar. Sugar was wearing a blood-red satin dress that fit him like his own skin. It was short and tight and so smooth in front I thought he must have been surgically altered. His makeup was flawless. His lips were full and pouty, painted in high gloss to match the dress. He wore the Marilyn wig, and on my best day I never looked that good. I slid a sideways glance at Morelli, and he obviously was caught in the same dumbstruck fascination that I was experiencing. I shifted my attention back to Sugar and realization suddenly hit me.
'The woman in the bar was Sugar,' I whispered to Morelli. 'It was a different blond wig, but I'm sure it was Sugar.'
'Are you kidding me? He was right in front of you, and you didn't recognize him?'
'It happened so fast, and the room was dark and crowded. And besides, look at him! He's beautiful!'
Sugar saw the three of us come into the room, and he was on his feet, calling Sally an ungrateful slut.
'Christ,' Sally said, 'what's he talking about? Don't you have to be a chick to be a slut?'
'You
Sally grabbed his package and gave it a hike up.
'I'd like to talk to you in private,' Morelli said to Sugar.
'You don't belong here, and I'm not talking to you,' Sugar said. 'This is the band's dressing room. Now get the hell out.'
Morelli crossed the room in three strides, backing Sugar into a corner. They stood talking like that for a few minutes, and then Morelli eased off. 'Nice meeting you,' he said to the other band members, who were shuffling foot to foot in awkward silence. 'Talk to you later,' he said to Sally.
When we left Sugar was still in the corner, his eyes small and glittery, not a part of his baby doll face.
'Jeez,' I said. 'What did you say to him?'
'I asked him if he was involved in the firebombings.'
'And what did he tell you?'
'Not much.'
'He sure makes a beautiful woman.'
Morelli gave his head a small shake of amazement. 'Christ, for a minute there I didn't know whether I wanted to punch him in the face or ask him for a date.'
'We going to stay to watch the band?'
'No,' Morelli said. 'We're going out to the lot to check out the Mercedes, and then we're going to run a check on Sugar.'
* * * * *
THE MERCEDES was clean, and so was Sugar. No priors for Gregory Stern. When we got back to Morelli's house there were two cop cars parked in front and several people milling around on the sidewalk. Morelli parked the truck and got out and walked over to the nearest uniform, who happened to be Carl Costanza.
'Been waiting for you,' Carl said. 'Didn't know if you wanted us to board your window.'
'No. It'll be okay for tonight, and tomorrow I'll get a glass guy over here.'
'You coming in, or you gonna do the report in the morning?' Carl asked.
'I'll do it in the morning.'
'Congratulations,' Costanza said to me. 'I hear you're preggers.'
'I'm
Costanza draped an arm around me and leaned close. 'Would you like to be?'
I rolled my eyes.
'Okay, but remember me in case you change your mind,' Carl said.
An old man in a bathrobe came up to Morelli and gave him the elbow. 'Just like old times, huh? I can remember when Ziggy Kozak's house got machine-gunned into Swiss cheese. Boy, I tell you, those were the days.'
Morelli went into the house, got the firebomb and gave it to Carl. 'Have this checked for prints and put it in the lockup. Anybody canvass the neighborhood for a witness?'
'No witnesses. We did every house.'
'How about the car?'
'Hasn't turned up yet.'
The cops got into their cars and drove off. The people dispersed. I followed Morelli into the living room, where we both stood looking at the glass shards scattered over the floor.
