in a bowl for Bob and unwrapped a dog for myself.
'This is what I love about you,' I said to Morelli. 'No vegetables.'
Morelli ate some hotdog and drank some more beer. 'Is that all you love about me?'
'No, but it's high on the list.'
'The Berringer murders are going into the toilet. The security company didn't have film in any of the surveillance cameras. Everyone hated the two people who were killed. It was cold and overcast and there was no exterior lighting in the back of the building. No one saw anything. No one heard anything. Forced entry. Nothing stolen.'
'Maybe you should hire a psychic.'
'I know you're being a wiseass, but I'm about at that point.'
'What's happening with Dickie? Am I still a suspect?'
'Right now, Dickie is just a missing person who disappeared under suspicious circumstances. If his body floats in on the tide, you could be in trouble. Marty Gobel is still the primary investigator, and he wants to talk to you first thing tomorrow. I gave him your cell number.'
'Do you think I should use the orgasm defense?'
'Yeah, my reputation could use a boost.' Morelli finished off his second hotdog and ate some fries. 'I'm not on the case, but I've been poking around on my own, and I don't like Dickie's partners. I'm probably going to regret saying this, but maybe you should bring Ranger in. He can do things I can't. Ranger doesn't mind bending the law to get information. Have him take a look at the partners.'
'You're worried about me.'
Morelli wiped his hands on his jeans and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. 'Dickie was a respected lawyer. And Joyce is making a lot of noise. This is going to go high profile, and the politicians will have to point a finger at someone. When the media gets hold of this case, unless new evidence is found, you're going to be in the spotlight.' He rested his cheek on the top of my head. 'I can manage the media attention. I couldn't manage having you taken away from me.'
I tipped my head back and looked at him. He was serious. 'Do you think I might be arrested and convicted?'
'I think the possibility is slim, but I'm not willing to take a chance on it. Ask Ranger for help and keep your head down. Don't do anything to bring more attention to yourself.'
I was dragged awake by something ringing in the dark room. Morelli swore softly, and his arm reached across me to the nightstand, where he'd left his cell phone.
'What?' Morelli said into the phone.
Someone was talking on the other end, and I could feel Morelli coming awake.
'You're fucking kidding me,' he said to the caller. 'Why does this shit always happen in the middle of the night?'
I squinted at my bedside clock and grimaced. Three A.M.
Morelli was up and moving around the room, looking for his clothes. He still had the phone to his ear. 'Give me an address,' he said, and a moment later he snapped his phone closed. He slipped his watch onto his wrist and pulled his jeans on. He sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on socks. He leaned over and kissed me. 'I have to go, and I probably won't get back tonight. I'll take Bob with me.'
'Is this about the Berringer murders?'
'Someone else was just found dead in the building.'
He clipped his gun onto his belt and pulled a sweater over a T-shirt. 'I'll call when I can.'
I had a third of a jar of peanut butter in my pantry, no milk, no bread, no juice. Half a box of Cheerios. I dropped some Cheerios into Rex's food dish and mixed some up with the peanut butter for myself. I washed the Cheerios and peanut butter down with black coffee and grabbed my coat.
Marty Gobel, the cop who was in charge of Dickie's disappearance, was supposed to call to talk. If I wasn't Morelli's girlfriend, I'd probably be getting fingerprinted. Good thing I had something solid in my stomach because otherwise I might be inclined to throw up. I really didn't want to go to jail.
Peter Smullen was first on my list of hideous jobs. According to Ranger's research, Smullen would be rolling into Starbucks a little after eight. I arrived fifteen minutes in front of the hour and tried to look inconspicuous by studying the shelves of coffee mugs for sale. Not that inconspicuous was much of a problem. The place was packed, and anyone under seven feet tall wasn't going to stand out.
I saw Smullen push through the door at five of eight and realized I might have a problem. He was buttoned into a black cashmere overcoat. There was no way to drop a bug into his suit pocket. Fortunately, the store was warm and the line was long. If the line went slowly enough, he'd unbutton his coat. I watched from my spot at the front of the store. I had a plan. I was going to wait until he had his coffee, and then I'd approach him. My coat was open, and I was wearing a low-cut V-neck sweater with a push-up bra. I looked pretty good considering my boobs were real, but it was hard to compete with all the double-D silicone jobs.
Smullen finally got to the counter and put in his order. He unbuttoned his coat to get his wallet, and I almost collapsed with relief. I had access to his pockets. He shuffled to the pick-up counter, got his triple Frappuccino, and when he turned toward the door, he was flat against me. I had my boobs pressed into his chest and my leg between his.
'Whoops,' I said, sliding my hand under his coat, dropping the bug into his pocket. 'Sorry!'
Smullen didn't blink. He just hung on to his Frappuccino as if this happened every morning. And maybe it did. There were a lot of people in the store. I took one step back and one step to the side to let Smullen get past me, and he inched his way toward the door and disappeared.
I felt someone lean in to me from behind, and a coffee was placed in my hand.
'Nice,' Ranger said, guiding me out to the sidewalk. 'I couldn't have gotten that close. And he wouldn't have been distracted by my chest.'
'I don't think he even noticed.'
'A man would have to be dead not to notice,' Ranger said.
'Morelli’s worried I'll be involved in Dickie's disappearance, he said I should ask you for help.'
'He's a good man,' Ranger said. 'And you?'
'I'm better.'
Lula was filing when I walked into the bonds office.
'What s with this?' I asked.
'Hunh,' Lula said. 'You act like I never do nothing. It's just I'm so efficient I get my work done before anyone notices. My name should be Flash. You ever see any files laying around?'
'I assumed you were throwing them away.'
'Your ass,' Lula said.
For a short time, we had a guy named Melvin Pickle doing our filing. Pickle was a filing dynamo. Unfortunately, he was so good he was able to get a better job. Les Sebring hired him to work in his bonds office, and Connie had to coerce Lula to take back filing responsibilities.
Connie was carefully adding a topcoat to her nails. 'Having any luck with the new batch of FTAs?'
'No, but Milton Buzick is getting buried today. I'm waiting to get a jewelry report from Grandma.'
'If he got a Rolex on, I don't want to know,' Lula said. 'Two things I'm not doing. I'm not going back to that trailer, and I'm not sitting in no cemetery. Dead people creep me out.'
'What about Carl Coglin?' Connie asked. 'He looks pretty straightforward. He has a small shop attached to his home.'
'Who's Carl Coglin?' Lula wanted to know.
I pulled Carl's file out of my bag and flipped it open. 'Sixty-four years old. Never married. Lives alone. His sister put up the bond. Accused of destruction of personal property. Doesn't go into detail. Lists his occupation as taxidermist.'
'Taxidermist,' Lula said. 'We never busted a taxidermist before. It could be fun.'
A half hour later, we were in North Trenton, standing in front of Coglin’s house. This was a working-class neighborhood filled with people stretched too thin to plant flowers in the spring. Houses were neat but shabby. Cars were tired.
Coglin lived in a redbrick single-family house with mustard trim. The paint was blistered and the wood around
