'We go back to the table. And when dinner is over, we go home… together.'
'And what happens in the morning?'
'We sleep late, read the Sunday paper, and take Bob for a walk in the park.'
'And Monday?'
'I go to work, and you stay home and hide.'
I did a major head slap. 'Unh,' I said.
His eyes narrowed. 'What?'
'To begin with, I'm afraid to hide in your house. I'm afraid to hide in my apartment or in my parents' house. I don't want to endanger anyone, and I don't want to make it easy for the bad guys to find me. And if that isn't enough, I hate when you order me around. I'm in law enforcement, too. I'm key to this mess. We should be working together.'
'Are you crazy? What did you have in mind? I should use you for bait?'
'Maybe not bait.'
Morelli grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me to him, and kissed me.
It was a great kiss, but I didn't know what the heck it meant. It seemed to me a breaking-up kiss would have had less tongue.
'So,' I said, 'do you want to explain that?'
'There's no possible explanation. I am so messed up. You frustrate the shit out of me.'
I knew the feeling. I was the mess-up queen. There was a contract on my head, and I was weirdly involved with two men. I didn't know which was more frightening.
'I'm going to take the coward's way out and leave,' Morelli said.
'That whole thing with the handcuffs got a little freaky. I should go back to work anyway. We have a twenty- four-hour watch on Ward's brothers house, so stay far away. I swear if I see you anywhere near there I'm going to have you arrested.'
I did another eye roll arid returned to the house. I was doing so many eye rolls these days I was getting head pains.
Sunday morning I took a good look at myself in the mirror in Ranger's bathroom. Not a pretty sight, I decided. The fat had to go.
I showered and got dressed, borrowing a black T-shirt from Ranger. The T-shirt was nice and roomy and hid the fat roll.
It had been easy to find the T-shirt. It was perfectly folded and stacked on a shelf, along with twenty other perfectly folded black
T-shirts. It had been easy to find the hooded sweatshirt I'd previously borrowed. The hooded sweatshirt had been perfectly folded and stacked on a shelf, along with six other perfectly folded black hooded sweatshirts. Doubly impressive because it's damn hard to perfectly fold a hooded sweatshirt. I counted thirteen black cargo pants, thirteen black jeans, thirteen perfectly ironed long-sleeved black shirts that matched the cargo pants. Black cashmere blazer, black leather jacket, black jeans jacket, three black suits, six black silk shirts, three lightweight black cashmere sweaters.
I started opening drawers. Black dress socks, black and dark gray sweat socks. Assorted black athletic clothes. There was a small safe and a locked drawer. I was guessing the locked drawer held guns.
None of this especially interested me. The ugly truth is, I'd finally lost the fight for dignity, and I was searching for Ranger's underwear. Not that I was going to do anything kinky with it. I just wanted to see what he wore. Hell, I thought I'd shown a lot of restraint to have gone this long without snooping.
I'd now searched the entire dressing room, and unless Ranger kept his underwear in his safe, it appeared to me that he went commando.
I did one of those stupid fanning motions with my hands that women used to do in movies back in the forties to signify heat. I had no idea why I did it. It did nothing to cool me off. I was thinking about Ranger in his black cargo pants, and my face felt sunburned. I had other body parts that were pretty warm, too.
I had one drawer left. I slowly opened the drawer and peeked inside. A single pair of black silk boxers. Just one pair. What the heck did that mean?
I was feeling a little perverted, so I carefully closed the drawer, went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and let the cold air wash over me.
I looked down and couldn't see my toes past my belly. Mental groan. 'No more junky breakfast cereal,' I told Rex. 'No more doughnuts, chips, pizza, ice cream, or beer.'
Rex was in his soup can so it was hard to tell what he thought of the plan.
I got the coffee going, fixed myself a small bowl of Rangers cereal, and added skim milk. I like this cereal, I told myself. This is delicious. And it would be even more delicious with some sugar and chocolate. I finished the cereal and poured out a mug of coffee. I took the coffee into the den, and I turned the television on.
By noon I was bored with television, and the apartment was starting to feel claustrophobic. I hadn't heard a word from Morelli, and I took that as a bad sign both romantically and professionally.
I dialed his cell and held my breath while it rang.
'What?' Morelli said.
'It's Stephanie. I'm just checking in.'
Silence.
'Since I haven't heard from you I'm assuming you don't have Ward.'
'We've been watching the brother's house, but so far Anton's a no-show.'
'You're watching the wrong house. You need to get to him through the girlfriend.'
'I don't have any leverage with the girlfriend.'
'I do. The girlfriends mother used her house as collateral on the bond. I can threaten the mother with foreclosure.'
More silence. 'You could have told me this yesterday,' he finally said.
'I was sulking.'
'Good thing you're cute when you sulk. What's the plan?'
'I'll visit the mother and apply some pressure. I'll pass whatever information I get on to you, and you can do the takedown.'
Ten
Anton Ward's girlfriend, Lauralene Taylor, lived at home with her mother on Hancock Street. I wanted to question the Taylors, and I thought it was best to do it alone. Less threatening that way, and I didn't think I'd need help. This was basically a fishing trip in a neighborhood that was hard times but not in the red zone on the danger meter.
Houses were small, in varying degrees of disrepair, and largely multiple family. The population was ethnically mixed. The economy was a hair above desperate. Mostly the inhabitants were working poor.
I drove past Francine Taylors house, didn't see any activity, and decided it was safe to approach. I parked the Lincoln a couple houses away, locked up, and walked back.
The Taylor house was better than most in the neighborhood.
The exterior was a faded lime green, halfway between bare wood and fresh paint. Shades looked inexpensive, but had been neatly raised to the same level on all windows. The small porch was covered with green indoor- outdoor carpet. Porch furnishings consisted of a rusted metal folding chair and a large glass ashtray filled with butts.
I hesitated a moment, listening before knocking. I didn't hear any yelling behind the closed door, no gunshots, no big dog snarling. Just the muffled hum of a television. So far, so good. I rapped once and waited. I rapped a second time.
A very pregnant kid opened the door. She was a couple inches shorter than me, dressed in pink sweats not designed for maternity.
Her face was round and smooth with baby fat. Her hair had been straightened and bleached honey blond. Her
