“You poisoned me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb. You knew exactly what you were doing when you forced that pork on me.”
“Gee, I’d really like to talk to you, Joyce, but I have to go do something.”
“I’ll get you for this… as soon as I can leave the bathroom.”
I hung up with Joyce, and I heard the front door open.
“I hope you don’t mind I let myself in,” Lula called from the foyer. “I still got the key you gave me.”
“No problem,” I said, and I came out to meet her.
There was a BANG from the parking lot, followed by the sound of glass breaking.
“That sounded like a window next door,” Lula said.
We stuck our heads out the dining room window and looked down at the lot. Two guys were standing there, and one had some sort of shotgun. They were wearing masks like Zorro, but they were still recognizable because one of them was giggling. They were the Chipotle killers.
“Imbecile,” the one guy yelled at the other guy. “You can’t even shoot a stupid firebomb into the right window. You’re a total screw-up. You never do anything right.”
“You said she lived in the apartment on the end.”
“I said next to the end.”
“Looks to me like there’s smoke comin’ from your neighbor’s apartment,” Lula said.
The fire alarm went off next door, and I could hear doors opening and closing in the hall and people shouting. I turned my attention back to the lot and saw the smaller of the two men shoulder the gun.
“Uh-oh,” Lula said. “Duck!”
We went flat to the floor, and BANG! A small black ball sailed past us, crashed against the far wall, and burst into flames. The flames raced across the carpet and the curtains caught.
“Fire!” Lula yelled. “Fire! Fire! We’re gonna die. We’re gonna burn up like we was in hell.”
I ran to the kitchen, got the fire extinguisher from under the sink, and ran back to the dining room with it. By now, the fire had spread to the living room, and the couch was on fire. I shot some foam at the couch and the living room curtains, and then I turned tail and ran for the door. I grabbed my purse on the way out, relieved that Rex was at Rangeman.
Lula was already in the hall, along with Dillon Ruddick, the building super. Dillon had a fire hose working on my neighbor’s apartment. Mr. Macko was helping him. Lula and I stumbled down the smoke-filled hall to the stairs.
“I don’t know if we should go out,” Lula said when we got to the ground floor. “What if they’re still there?”
Good point. I opened the door and peeked out into the small lobby. A bunch of tenants were milling around. Red and blue lights from cop cars and fire trucks flashed from the parking lot. A bunch of firemen in boots and gear entered the building and clomped past us, taking the stairs to the second floor. I looked out again and saw that the police were clearing the lobby.
“They’re going to make us leave the building,” I said to Lula.
“No way,” Lula said. “I’m here to stay. There’s crazy-ass Marco the Maniac out there.”
“I’m sure he’s gone by now. The parking lot is crawling with cops.”
“Some of those cops aren’t real smart.”
“Even the dimmest bulb would be suspicious of two guys wearing Zorro masks.”
“How’d they find me here anyway?” Lula wanted to know.
“They’ve probably been following your Firebird.”
“Well, I’m not drivin’ it no more. I’m leaving it here, and I’m calling a cab. And I’m not going home, neither. I’d be sitting there waiting for them to set me on fire.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that out.”
We left the stairwell and inserted ourselves into the middle of a clump of displaced tenants. Lula called for a cab, and I called Morelli.
“Are you out of the bathroom yet?” I asked him.
“Yeah, but it’s probably temporary.”
“How’s Bob doing?”
“He’s looking better.”
“Our two hit men, dumb and dumber, just firebombed my apartment. I think they must have been following Lula and figured out that she was living here.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“I don’t think so. The firemen are here. And a bunch of cops. Everyone’s out of the building, and I don’t see the EMTs treating anyone. Marco and his partner are so inept, they shot the first firebomb into my neighbor’s window by mistake.”
“Were they captured?”
“No. Lula and I heard the shot and went to the window. We saw them in the lot, and they saw us in the window, and next thing, there was a firebomb in my dining room.”
“How bad is the fire?”
“I think it was confined to the two apartments. I don’t see any more flames coming out the windows, so I’m thinking it’s under control. I won’t know how much damage was done for a while.”
“I’d offer to come rescue you, but I’m not sure I can drag myself to the car.”
“Thanks for the thought, but I’m okay. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow.”
I disconnected and Ranger called.
“Babe,” Ranger said.
“You heard?”
“The control room picked the call up on the police scanner.”
“It was my apartment, but I’m not hurt. I think most of the fire is out, but the firemen are still working in the building.”
“Hal is sitting just outside your lot in case you need help.”
“Thanks.”
The parking lot was clogged with emergency vehicles and fire trucks fighting for space around the parked cars. Fire hoses snaked over the pavement and it was difficult to see past the glare of spotlights and strobe lights.
“The cab’s gonna pick me up on the road,” Lula said. “It’ll never get into the lot.”
I walked through the tangle of trucks and gawkers with Lula, keeping alert for the Chipotle killers. Hard to believe they’d still be around, but they were so stupid it was hard to predict what they’d do. We reached the street running parallel to the lot. The Rangeman SUV was parked about twenty feet away. I waved to Hal and he waved back at me. After a couple minutes, the cab arrived.
“I’m gonna have this guy take me to Dunkin’ Donuts,” Lula said. “I need a bag of doughnuts.”
“No! You’re supposed to be off doughnuts.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot. I’ll have him take me to the supermarket, and I’ll get a bag of carrots.”
“Really?”
“No, not really. You think I’m gonna feel better eatin’ a carrot? Get a grip. There’s two idiots out there trying to kill me, and you think I’m gonna waste my last breath on a vegetable?”
Lula climbed into the cab, and I returned to the parking lot. Water dripped down the side of the building and pooled on the blacktop. Some of the tenants were being allowed to return to their apartments. Dillon Ruddick was talking to a couple cops and the fire chief. I walked over to join them.
“I knew it would only be a matter of time before we met again,” the chief said to me, referring to the fact that this wasn’t the first time my apartment had been fire-bombed. Or maybe he was talking about the two cars that just got toasted.
“Not my fault,” I said, thinking that covered all the possibilities.
“What can you tell me about this?” he said to me.
Morelli was the principal on the Chipotle case, and I didn’t know how much he wanted divulged, so I didn’t say much. I described the firebomb and left it at that.
I looked up at my smoke-stained window. “How bad is it?”
