“I get off in a couple hours. We could make conversation then if you want.”
“Sure. That would be great. I’ll be around.”
I crossed to the other side of the casino and climbed onto a barstool. There were two guys working behind the bar. One was keeping the cocktail waitresses supplied, and the other was servicing the bar customers. At the moment, there weren’t a lot of bar customers. Mostly me. I ordered a Cosmo and smiled when it was delivered.
“Not a lot going on,” I said to the bartender.
He studied me for a minute. “You were looking for action?”
“No. I was looking for an old friend. I used to work with this guy years ago, and someone told me he worked here now, but I don’t see him. Morty Lancelot.”
“You’re about six months late. Morty and a bunch of others got caught in a budget crunch, and it was adios.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, they got rid of everyone at the top of the pay scale. I’m still here because I work for peanuts. Literally.”
He took a little glass dish, scooped peanuts into it from a tub under the bar, and set them in front of me.
“I used to have a more balanced diet when they had wasabi peas, but the peas got cut with Morty,” he said.
“Do you know where Morty is now?”
“I heard he got a job with Billings.”
“What’s Billings?”
“Food purveyor. I see the truck at the loading dock every morning when I work days.”
I finished my Cosmo and left a generous tip so the bar guy could get himself some peas. I roamed around a little more and eventually made my way back to the slots, where Lula was still feeding money into a machine.
“How are you doing?” I asked her.
“I won twenty dollars.”
“How much have you spent?”
“Seventy. These machines are rigged. This is a crooked casino.”
“I accomplished my purpose,” I said. “I think I have a lead on the guys following me. Are you ready to leave?”
“Yeah, I’m broke. This was a exhausting day. At least I got a grip on the worms before I left your mama’s house.”
It was close to midnight when I pulled into the Burg. If it had been a little earlier, I would have gone to the cemetery looking for Magpie. As it was, Lula was asleep, and I was wearing four-inch heels. Not great for chasing a guy down through grass and gravestones. I eased to a stop at my parents’ house and watched while Lula got into her Firebird and took off. I drove to my apartment building and did a scan of the parking lot. No Lincoln Town Car. No toaster car. No odd van. The big surprise was Morelli’s SUV. I parked next to it, got out, and looked up at my apartment. Lights were on. Morelli had a key, left over from more committed times.
At least I didn’t have to worry about walking in and finding Raz hiding out in my kitchen, I thought. Or Joyce. So how did I feel about finding Morelli hiding out in my kitchen? Warm. Nice and warm. How scary is that?
I let myself in, and Bob rushed to greet me. I gave him hugs and scratched behind his ears. I said hello to Rex, and went into the living room. The television was on, and Morelli was asleep on the couch. He was in jeans and T- shirt and socks. He was seven hours past a five o’clock shadow. He should have gotten a haircut a month ago. And he was incredibly sexy and cuddly as hell. I got the extra quilt from the closet and tucked him in. I shut the television and lights off. And I went to bed.
I woke up with Morelli’s arm draped over me, and I didn’t have to look under the covers to know he was naked. I ran my hand along the length of him, and his eyes half-opened.
“Surprise,” he murmured.
A half hour later, Morelli was in my shower and I was in the kitchen pulling breakfast together. Morning sex with Morelli is fun and satisfying, but never stretches into marathon territory. Morelli has other things to do in the morning. Morelli has murders to solve.
I measured kibble into Bob’s bowl, gave him fresh water, and told him Morelli would be out any minute to take him for a walk. I got coffee brewing and plated a babka my mom had given me the night before.
Morelli strolled into the kitchen the moment the coffee was done. He kissed me and poured himself a glass of juice.
“I stopped in last night to tell you we made an arrest on the Korda case,” he said. “Where were you?”
“Atlantic City. I was looking for a lead on the two guys who’ve been following me.”
“And?”
“I didn’t have a chance to follow through, but I think they might be working for a food purveyor that services the casino. Billings.” I took a chunk of babka. “Tell me about the arrest. Who’s the suspect?”
“Carol Baumgarten. You probably don’t know her. She’s from Lawrenceville. We brought her in, and she totally cooperated. Claimed she never intended to kill anyone. She got tossed aside for Barnhardt, and she wanted to teach them a lesson. Her idea was to put them in the trunk, leave the car at the junkyard, and call Korda’s wife to retrieve him. Problem was, Korda’s wife never picked the message up on her cell phone, and Korda had a heart attack. By the time Baumgarten got worried and returned to the junkyard to rescue Korda, he’d already been compacted. So she panicked and started going through Stoli like it was water.”
“How did you find her?”
“Cab records. She called a cab to take her back to her car at the jewelry store. I guess she followed Korda for days, waiting for the right time.”
“I’m surprised you’re sharing this with me.”
“We have a taped confession and tons of physical evidence. Her prints were all over Joyce’s car. And I’m sure there are DNA matches. The woman sheds hair like a cat. And with the way things operate in this town, every detail will be circulated at Mabel’s Hair Salon and Giovichinni’s Market today. I don’t know how it gets leaked out, but it always does.”
“Did you talk to Berger?”
“No. We’ve been playing phone tag. I’ll try to hook up today.”
Morelli left, and I went to my computer to get information on Billings. I found the company and scrolled through a bunch of pages. It looked like they distributed gourmet prepared food, specialty items, and premium meat and poultry. The warehouse and central offices were just north of Bordentown. It was a private company owned by Chester Billings. He wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. He’d been charged with income-tax evasion three years ago, but he’d settled up and nothing more had come of it. He’d also been charged with possession of stolen goods, but nothing had come of that, either.
I plugged Chester Billings into a new search program that would give me some personal history. He was born in New Brunswick. Parents were Mary and William Billings. Sister Brenda. Holy cow. Brenda.
I put Brenda Schwartz into the same search program and read down. There it was… Brenda Billings. Brother Chester.
Okay, so I had finally made a connection. And it was interesting. But I still had no idea why the photograph was important. Or, for that matter, what I had to do to get everyone off my back.
I shut my computer down, took a shower, got dressed, and headed out. Lancer and Slasher fell in line behind me on Hamilton and followed me all the way. We parked in front of the bonds office, and I walked back to talk to them.
“I know who you work for,” I said to Lancer.
“I didn’t tell you,” he said.
