'Are we hot, or what?' Lula said. 'We captured Leon James.'
We'd done a drive-through at Cluck-in-a-Bucket to celebrate our success, and then we'd processed James, picked up our body receipt, and now we were back in the office.
Connie was smiling. 'The morning was a downer, but the rest of the day was good. That was a big bond. And it turns out Melvin Pickle is a filing demon.'
Bob was sitting on my foot, pressing his body against my leg. He'd gone for a walk, eaten two pieces of chicken, slurped up a bowl of water, and now he was ready to nap.
'I'm taking Bob home,' I told Connie. 'If any information comes in on Ranger give me a call on my cell.'
'Yeah, and I'm going home too,' Lula said. 'I gotta get ready for tonight.'
'We have another batch of job applicants coming in tomorrow,' Connie said. 'Starting at nine o'clock.'
I loaded Bob into the back seat of the Mini and rolled the window down so he could stick his head out. The car was wall-to-wall dog, but Bob looked happy on the cushy leather.
I turned the engine over and moved into the stream of traffic with my eyes on Carmen, expecting her to follow. When I stopped for the light at the corner, the SUV was still at the curb, no sign of life. Carmen had probably fallen asleep at the wheel. Or maybe she'd gone for a walk. Or maybe she was in a second car, using the SUV as a decoy. I wound through the Burg watching my rearview mirror for a tail. No tail appeared, so I drove to Morelli's.
I deposited Bob in the house, locked up, and got back into the Mini. I motored the short distance to my apartment, parked, and rode the elevator with Mrs Bestler.
'How was your day, dear?' she asked, pressing the button for the second floor.
'Very good. And yours?'
'My day was excellent. I visited the chiropodist this morning. That's always exciting.' The doors opened, and Mrs Bestler sang out, 'Second floor, ladies lounge.'
Here's the thing about my apartment: no matter how chaotic my day has been, my apartment is usually calm and silent. There was a time when my answering machine would be filled with messages when I came home, but my answering machine broke and was never replaced, so now everyone calls my cell. Rex is happy about this, since no one disturbs him while he's sleeping. I don't cook, so the kitchen is never messy My furnishings are sparse, since the clutter went up in flames with the fire. And the bathroom doesn't count. The bathroom is always a wreck.
I filled Rex's food dish with hamster crunchies, a peanut, a green bean, and a piece of pretzel. I gave him fresh water. I said 'hello.'
Rex backed out of his soup can, stuffed the green bean and pretzel into his cheek, and rushed back into his can.
It was four o'clock, and I had to be at my parents' house at six. I turned my computer on and surfed the net for news of Ranger. I went to the site for missing children and I visited some of the news sites. No information beyond what was initially released.
Vinnie belongs to PBUS. Professional Bail Agents of the United States. PBUS shares information and loosely links agencies nationwide. A couple months ago a Virginia agency needed help locating a guy who'd skipped out of their area and was believed to be in Trenton. I found the guy and held him until the agency could get someone to Trenton to take possession. I had a business card from John Nash, the agent who collected the FTA, and I thought he might be willing to do me a favor.
I emailed Nash and asked if he knew anything about Ranger. Bail bonds is a small world. Agents know when new competition pops up in their neighborhood.
I ran through my spam box and deleted sixty-four ads for penis enhancement, seventeen ads for animal porn sites, and two ads for cheap credit.
Beautification was next on my list. I jumped into the shower, did what I could to improve on nature by way of makeup and hair gel, got dressed in my best jeans and sexy little shirt, and took off for my parents' house.
Morelli arrived a beat after I did.
'Everyone to the table,' my mother said. 'Stephanie, you get the mashed potatoes from the kitchen.'
Dinner in my parents' house happens precisely at six o'clock. Five minutes late, and it could all be ruined. Burned pot roast, cold potatoes, overcooked green beans. A disaster of biblical proportions.
My father was first to sit. He had his fork in hand and his attention focused on the kitchen door, waiting for my mother to emerge with the pot roast. Grandma Mazur set the beans on the table and took her place across from Morelli and me. My mother followed with the meat, and we all dug in.
If a man attended enough pot roast dinners in the presence of a single woman and her family, it was a marriage in the eyes of the Burg, if not God. And Morelli was dangerously close to marriage by pot roast. There's a part of me that likes the comfortable intimacy between Morelli and me at the table. I like the way his knee snuggles against mine. And I like the way he accepts my family. And I like the way he looks with a glass of red wine in his hand, relaxed and confident, his dark eyes not missing anything. In fact, there isn't a lot
'I was talking to Merle Greber today,' Grandma Mazar said. 'She lives two houses down from Mary Lee Truk, and she said Mary Lee's feeling much better. I guess she's got the hot flashes under control. And the stitches came out on her husband's behind from where she stabbed him, and word is he's thinking about dropping the charges against her and moving back home. Merle said, only problem now is it looks like Mary Lee's putting on weight.'
The unfortunate result of acquiring happiness at the bakery.
'Anyone hear anything about that little girl who was kidnapped?' Grandma asked.
'She's still missing,' I said.
'People are saying Ranger took her. I hope for her sake that's true, because he wouldn't hurt her. It's still a terrible thing.'
We all lapsed into silence after that. Not that silence was abnormal at my parents' table. We tended not to multitask body functions. When we sat down to eat, we got to it.
'Oh man, you're kidding,' Morelli said. 'You want me to do what?'
It was eight-thirty, and we were walking Bob around Morelli's neighborhood, so Bob could do one last tinkle.
'I want you to go to the Hole with me. Lula's singing there tonight, and I feel like I should be supportive. And I thought it wouldn't hurt to have an armed cop in the room.'
'Lula can't sing. I've heard her sing. She's tone-deaf.'
'Yeah, but she looks good in her dress.' As long as she doesn't bend over. 'And she's singing with Sally Sweet and his band. None of them can sing. They just play loud enough to drown themselves out.'
'I had plans for tonight,' Morelli said.
'Would those be the same plans you had for last night?'
'The basic plan is the same, but I have a few variations I thought I'd throw in.'
'Look on the positive side. You could try to get me liquored up at the Hole, and I might come up with some of my own variations. I'm an animal when I'm liquored up.'
Morelli smiled at me. 'Good point.'
'Did you have any luck getting information for me on Ranger?'
'No photo. He doesn't have a Virginia driver's license. And no captures on record. Sorry.'
That's okay. I suspected there wouldn't be anything, but I thought it was worth a try.'
'What about the woman? Have you talked to her?' Morelli asked.
'Carmen? I can hear her release the safety on her Glock when I get within two feet of her.'
'Do you want me to roust her?'
'No. At least this way I know where to find her. And as long as there's distance between us, I don't think she's dangerous. She's not exactly a sharpshooter.'
We took Bob back to the house, locked up, and headed off in Morelli's SUV. Morelli used to have a truck, but he traded it in so Bob could ride with him and be more comfy in bad weather.
The Hole was on Third, in an area top-loaded with bars and pawnshops and adult video stores. Sandwiched
