palms or stylish mauve carpet. Mauve carpet doesn't hold up under pepper spray-induced snot.
Morelli brought me into a small room with a table and two chairs. He plugged in a tape recorder and punched the on button. I looked around and was ready to confess to anything. Just being in the grim little room, under the flickering fluorescent lights, made me feel guilty.
I walked my way through the conversation with Steven Klein, giving as much detail as I could recall. When we got to the part where I was zapped unconscious, Morelli shut the machine off and called Ranger. 'She's all yours,' Morelli said to Ranger. Morelli disconnected and looked over at me. 'That was a figure of speech.'
RANGER WAS DRIVING a black Porsche Carrera. He was wearing black cargo pants, a black T-shirt that looked like it was painted onto his biceps, black Bates boots, and a Glock in full view on his hip. Ranger was in bodyguard mode.
'Couldn't coerce any of your men into baby-sitting me?' I asked him.
He cut his eyes to me and he didn't exactly smile, but he didn't look unhappy, either. 'You're all mine today, babe.'
It sounded different when Ranger said it.
'I don't know what your plans are for the day,' I said to Ranger, 'but my plan is to go to the mall and beg for hair help. I'm finding it hard to maintain the eye of the tiger when my hair is lopsided.'
On the way to the mall, I filled Ranger in on the game. 'It has to be Bart Cone,' I said. 'Someone sent Steven Klein to Vegas to eliminate Singh. And there were only a couple people who knew Singh was in Vegas. Cone was one of them.'
'It could also be someone Cone's talking to,' Ranger said. 'There are three brothers and they all have friends and associates. I'm sure the police have cast a wide net around them, but it wouldn't hurt for you to talk to the Cones. Sometimes a man will share information with a woman that he wouldn't think to give to a cop.'
Ranger parked at a mall entrance and we walked through the mall to the salon. We passed a Victoria's Secret along the way and I couldn't resist giving Ranger the test.
'Suppose I wanted to look for a thong,' I said to Ranger. 'Would you come into the store with me?'
Ranger did the almost smile. 'Are we cutting a deal?'
'Everything's a deal with you.'
'I'm a mercenary,' Ranger said. 'What's your point?'
For a couple years now I've been getting my hair cut by Mr. Alexander. The guy's name is Alexander Dubkowski, but no one calls him Al or Alex or even Alexander. It's Mr. Alexander if you want a decent cut.
We walked into the salon and Mr. Alexander looked our way and sucked in some air. Not only did I have a hair disaster of biblical proportions, I was with the Man from SWAT. And the Man from SWAT made people nervous.
'I had a hair accident,' I said to Mr. Alexander. 'Do you have time to fix it?'
Mr. Alexander went pale under his tanning salon tan. Probably afraid Ranger would shoot up the place if I didn't get an immediate appointment. 'I have a few minutes between clients,' he said, motioning me into a chair, draping a cape around me. He did some hair fluffing with his fingers, he bit his lower lip. 'I'm going to have to cut,' he said.
Panic. 'It's not going to be real short, is it? How about a weave, or something.'
'I'm good, but I'm not God,' he said. 'It's going to have to get cut.'
I blew out a sigh of resignation. 'Fine. Cut.'
'Close your eyes,' he said. 'I'll tell you when it's done.'
I opened an eye halfway through and he quickly turned the chair so I wasn't facing the mirror. 'No cheating,' he said. When he was done, he spun me around and we both stopped breathing.
It was short. Longer in the back, curling along the nape of my neck. Short enough on the sides to have my ear show. A few wispy bangs over my forehead. And the whole thing looking slightly mussed and wind tossed.
Ranger came and stood behind me, checking me out. 'Cute,' he said.
'Last time my hair was this short I was four years old.'
When we were back in the car I turned to Ranger. 'Is it really cute or were you just trying to keep me from shrieking?'
He ran a hand through my hair. 'It's sexy,' he said. And he kissed me. Tongue and everything.
'Hey' I said. 'We're not supposed to be doing that.' A smile hovered at the edges of his mouth. 'Morelli told me you were all mine today.'
'That was a figure of speech. He trusts us.'
Ranger turned the key in the ignition. 'He trusts you. I haven't signed on to the trust me program.'
'How about me? Can I trust you?'
'Are we talking about your life or your body?'
I already knew the answer so I moved on. 'Where are we going?'
'TriBro.'
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Ranger was in the industrial park where TriBro was located. He pulled into a parking lot for a moving and storage company and cut the engine.
I looked over. 'What's up?'
