“Speaking of compacting…”
“No other bodies at the junkyard. Connie’s relatives make sure there’s a fast turnover of cars. Smash ’em, and ship ’em out.”
“There’s a rumor that Joyce was doing the jeweler.”
“Joyce did everyone.”
“Did Joyce ever do you?” I asked Morelli.
“No,” he said. “She’s scary. Just so you know, you aren’t the only one looking for her. She’s wanted for questioning regarding the Korda murder.”
“Any leads?”
“No. How about you?”
“Nothing.”
Morelli took a second piece of pizza, and the doorbell rang. He moved to the door and looked out the peephole.
“It’s a woman,” Morelli said. “She’s holding a cake box.”
I sidled up next to him and looked out. It was Brenda Schwartz.
“You remember the guy who got killed and stuffed into a garbage can at LAX?”
“Richard Crick.”
“Yeah. And you know about the photograph?”
“Un-hunh.”
“And you know how there are fake FBI guys and real FBI guys and Razzle Dazzle, who all want the photograph?”
Morelli didn’t say anything, but the line of his mouth tightened ever so slightly.
“Well, this is Brenda Schwartz,” I said. “She says she’s Crick’s fiancee, and she’s another photograph hunter.”
“So she brought you a cake?”
“Possibly. There could be a bomb in the box. She seems a little unstable.”
“Anything else I should know?” Morelli asked.
“She carries a gun, but it’s not very big.”
“This is why I have acid reflux,” Morelli said. And he opened the door.
“Oh cripes,” Brenda said, looking at Morelli. “Do I have the wrong apartment? I was looking for Stephanie Plum.”
I peeked around Morelli. “You have the right apartment. This is my boyfriend.”
“Maybe,” Morelli said. “Maybe not.”
“I figured we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” Brenda said to me. “What with threatening to shoot you and everything. Anyhoo, I got you a cake. I thought we could have a girl-to-girl over it.”
“That’s nice of you, but I don’t have the photograph,” I told her.
“Yeah, but you know where it is.”
“No, I don’t know where it is.”
She pinched her lips together for a second. “Then why do certain people think you got the photograph?”
“Misinformation,” I said. “Probably originating from your fiance.”
“Richard Crick didn’t give out misinformation,” she said. “He was a
“Why do you want the photograph?” Morelli asked her.
“None of your beeswax,” she said. “I just do. It’s sentimental. I was his fiancee.”
“You’re not wearing an engagement ring,” Morelli said.
“Honestly,” Brenda said, rolling her eyes. “He’s dead. You don’t expect me to pine away forever, do you?” She looked back at me. “So are you going to give me the photograph, or what?”
I felt a vein start to throb in my temple. “I
“Fine. Have it your way,” Brenda said. “But I’m giving you warning. I’m going to get that photograph. And you’re not getting any of this cake, either.” And she turned and sashayed down the hall to the elevator.
Morelli and I retreated into my apartment and closed and locked the door.
“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do you have the photograph?”
I smacked the heel of my hand against my forehead so hard I almost knocked myself out. “
“Does that mean
“It means NO! No, no, no, no, no.”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m not exactly in the loop here.”
“You’re too busy to be in the loop.”
“No one could stay in the loop with you. You’re a disaster magnet. You suck it in. I used to think it was because of your job. But that’s too simple an explanation. You can’t even go on vacation without attracting killers. Not just one killer, either. You have a whole gaggle of killers after you. Is Berger any help with this?”
“They’ve had budget cuts.”
He went to my brown bear cookie jar, removed the lid, and took my gun out.
“It’s not loaded,” he said.
“You don’t really want me going around with a loaded gun, do you?”
He returned the gun to the cookie jar. “Good point. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is Ranger watching your back?”
“He monitors my car. Beyond that, it’s hard to tell what Ranger’s doing.”
Morelli’s phone buzzed with a text message. He read the message and gave up a sigh. “I have to go. I’d like to help you, but I have no idea, short of handcuffing you to my furnace and locking the cellar door, how to keep you safe. It’s not like you’re good at accepting advice.”
“Jeez, it’s not that bad.”
“Cupcake, you gotta be careful.” He pulled me to him and kissed me. He broke from the kiss and cut his eyes to the pizza box. “Are you going to want that last piece of pizza?”
“It’s yours.”
He dropped a piece of crust into Rex’s cage and took the pizza, box and all. “Lock your door when I leave and don’t let anyone in.”
I watched Morelli walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator. This is unsettling, I thought. I had no clue where I actually stood with him. In some ways, he’d traded places with Ranger as the man of mystery.
I closed and locked my door and slouched in front of the television. After an hour, I was restless. There’s a limit to how many sitcom reruns you can watch, and I was tired of
Turned out it was Joyce Barnhardt.
“I need help,” Joyce said.
“There’s a rumor going around that you’re dead.”
“Not yet.”
This was only marginally better than the fire ants. “What’s going on?” I asked her. “Why the big disappearance?”
“People are looking for me.”
“And?”
“And I figure you can help me. If you help me out, I let you bring me in. You get your capture money. Vinnie’s happy. It’s all good.”
“What do I have to do?”
“For starters, I need something from my town house.”
“Your town house is locked, and you have an alarm system.”
“I’m sure you can get around it.”
“Only if you give me a key and your code.”
“There’s a house key hidden in a fake rock to the right of the front door. The code is 6213.”
