High Five

We both momentarily fell silent while our pizza was placed on the table.

'He'd just come from the bank,' Morelli said when we were alone. 'He was an old man. An easy mark. Someone could have driven up to him and forced him into their car.'

'There were no signs of struggle.'

'That doesn't mean one didn't take place.'

I chewed on that while I ate my pizza. I'd had the same thought, and I didn't like it.

I told Morelli about my conversation with Winnie Black.

'She know anything about the pictures?'

'No.'

'One other thing,' Morelli said. 'I wanted to tell you about Benito Ramirez.'

I looked up from the pizza. Benito Ramirez was a heavyweight professional boxer from Trenton. He liked to punish people and didn't limit the punishing to inside the ring. He liked to beat up on women. Liked to hear them beg while he inflicted his own brand of sick torture. And in fact, I knew some of that torture had ended in death, but there'd always been camp followers who'd gotten posthumous credit for the worst of Ramirez's crimes. He'd been involved in my very first case as a bounty hunter, and I'd been instrumental in putting him behind bars. His incarceration hadn't come soon enough for Lula. Ramirez had almost killed her. He'd raped her and beat her and cut her in terrible places. And then he'd left her naked, bloody body on my fire escape for me to find.

'What about Ramirez?' I asked Morelli.

'He's out.'

'Out where?'

'Out of jail.'

'What? What do you mean, he's out of jail? He almost killed Lula. And he was involved in a whole bunch of other murders.' Not to mention that he'd stalked and terrorized me.

'He's released on parole, doing community service, and getting psychiatric counseling.' Morelli paused to pull off another piece of pizza. 'He had a real good lawyer.'

Morelli had said this very matter of fact, but I knew he didn't feel matter of fact. He'd put on his cop face. The one that shut out emotion. The one with the hard eyes that gave nothing away.

I made a display of eating. Like I wasn't too bothered by this news either. When in fact, nausea was rolling through my stomach. 'When did this happen?' I asked Morelli.

'Yesterday.'

'And he's in town?'

'Just like always. Working out in the gym on Stark.'

A big man, Mrs. Bestler had said. African-American. Polite. Prowling in my hall. Sweet Jesus, it might have been Ramirez.

'If you even suspect he's anywhere near you, I want to know,' Morelli said.

I'd shoved another piece of pizza into my mouth, but I was having a hard time swallowing. 'Sure.'

We finished the pizza and dawdled over coffee.

'Maybe you should spend the night with me,' Morelli said. 'Just in case Ramirez decides to look you up.'

I knew Morelli had other things in mind beyond my safety. And it was a tempting offer. But I'd already taken that bus, and it seemed like a ride that went nowhere. 'Can't,' I said. 'I'm working tonight.'

'I thought things were slow.'

'This isn't for Vinnie. This is for Ranger.'

Morelli did a little grimace. 'I'm afraid to ask.'

'It's nothing illegal. It's a security job.'

'It always is,' Morelli said. 'Ranger does all kinds of security. Ranger keeps small Third World countries secure.'

'This has nothing to do with gunrunning. This is legitimate. We're doing front-door security for an apartment building on Sloane.'

'Sloane? Are you crazy? Sloane's at the edge of the war zone.'

'That's why the building needs policing.'

'Fine. Let Ranger get someone else. Trust me, you don't want to be out looking for a parking place on Sloane in the middle of the night.'

'I won't have to look for a parking place. Tank's picking me up.'

'You're working with a guy named Tank?'

'He's big.'

'Jesus,' Morelli said. 'I had to fall in love with a woman who works with a guy named Tank.'

'You love me?'

'Of course I love you. I just don't want to marry you.'