Twelve Sharp

My hamster Rex lives in a glass cage on my beige kitchen counter. He poked his head out of his soup can when I came in. His whiskers twitched and his black button eyes were wide in expectation. I said hello and dropped a couple Cheerios into his food dish. He rushed out, shoved the Cheerios into his mouth and disappeared into his soup can. My kind of roommate.

I called Morelli and told him I'd be over in an hour. I took a shower, did the hair and makeup thing, put on some pretty undies, clean jeans, and a sexy little knit shirt and checked my messages. No Ranger.

This was a dilemma. I didn't know what to do about Carmen. My instincts told me she wasn't what she said. My curiosity had me in a state. And my hormones still had me a teensy bit jealous. Probably I wouldn't be bothered so much if she wasn't so pretty. Truth is, she looked like a woman Ranger might find attractive, except for the crazy part. I couldn't see Ranger with an irrational woman. Ranger was organized. Ranger didn't act on impulse.

Anyway, here she was, and I seemed to be in the middle of something. Whether or not she was Ranger's wife wasn't my most pressing problem. The fact that Carmen felt comfortable shooting at me put her beyond the nuisance category and into the yikes category. I was supposed to call Tank if I needed help, but I wasn't ready to push that button just yet. If Tank thought I was in danger he'd assign someone to follow me around whether I wanted it or not. My experience with Ranger's men is that this isn't desirable. They're big and hard to hide. And they're overly protective, since the fear is that Ranger might shoot them in the foot should they let anything bad happen to me.

I stuffed a change of clothes into my shoulder bag and locked my apartment up behind me. I headed out and did a fast check on my car before getting in. No spray-painted slogans suggesting I was a slut. Windows hadn't been broken by a sledgehammer. No ticking noises coming from the undercarriage. Looked to me like Carmen hadn't yet discovered my address.

I drove the short distance to Morelli's house and parked at the curb. Morelli lived in a pleasant neighborhood with narrow streets, small attached houses, and hard-working people. I spent enough time here that knocking wasn't a required formality. I let myself in and heard Bob galloping at me from the kitchen. He hurled himself against me, tail wagging, eyes bright. Bob was in theory a golden retriever, but his gene pool was questionable. He was big and orange and fluffy. He loved everybody, and he ate everything… including table legs and upholstered chairs. I gave him a hug, he realized I didn't have any bakery bags, and he trotted away.

Morelli didn't gallop at me, but he didn't drag his feet either. He met me halfway to the kitchen, pressed me into the wall, plastered himself against me and kissed me. Morelli was off-duty in jeans and a T-shirt and bare feet. And the only weapon Morelli was currently carrying was pressed into my stomach.

'Bob really missed you,' he said, his mouth moving down my neck.

'Bob?'

'Yeah.' He hooked a finger into my shirt and slid it off my shoulder so his mouth could kiss more of me. 'Bob's been nuts without you.'

'Sounds serious.'

'Fucking pathetic.'

His hands slid down to my waist, under my shirt, and in an instant the shirt was off.

'You aren't hungry, are you?' he asked.

'Not for what's in the kitchen.'

***

I was dressed in one of Morelli's shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. I was beside Morelli, on his couch, and we were eating cold pizza and watching a ball game.

'I had an interesting experience today,' I told him. 'A woman introduced herself to me as Ranger's wife. And then she pulled a gun on me and got two rounds off at my car.'

'Am I supposed to be surprised at this?'

There's a certain amount of professional respect between Morelli and Ranger. And from time to time they've worked together for the common good. Beyond that, Morelli thinks Ranger's a head case.

'Do you know anything about this woman?' I asked Morelli.

'No.'

'Ranger left for Miami today. Do you know anything about that?'

'No.'

'Do you know anything about anything?'

'I know a few things,' Morelli said. Tell me more about Ranger's wife.'

'Her name is Carmen. I saw a Virginia driver's license issued to Carmen Manoso. And two credit cards. She's pretty. Sort of curly brown hair, blue eyes, about five-foot-five, Caucasian, nice shape. Fake boobs.'

'How do you know the boobs are fake?'

'Actually, I'm just hoping they're fake. And she was dressed in black SWAT clothes.'

'That's cute,' Morelli said. 'Mr and Mrs Ranger clothes.'

'She said one minute they were in bed and then poof, he was gone. Cleaned out the bank account and emptied the office. And the cell number she has for him is out of service.'

'And your cell number for him?'

'It's in service, but he's not answering.'

'It doesn't work for me,' Morelli said. 'I can't see Ranger tying himself up in a marriage.'

I happened to know that Ranger had been married for about twenty minutes when he was in the military. He has a ten-year-old daughter from that marriage, and the daughter lives in Miami with her mother and stepfather. So far as I know, he's been careful to avoid entanglements since. At least, that's what I believed, until a couple hours ago.

'Who is this woman if she's not his wife?' I asked.

'Wacked-out bimbo? Paid assassin? Demented relative?'

'Get serious.'

'I am serious.'

'Okay, different subject. Did you do the report on Melvin Pickle? Do you know his status?'

'Oswald did the report. Pickle shouldn't have any problem getting rebonded. Probably have to go through some kind of mental health screening.' Morelli eyed the last piece of pizza. 'Do you want it?' he asked.

'You can have it,' I told him, 'but it'll cost you.'

'What's the price?'

'How about running Carmen Manoso through the system?'

'I'd need more than a piece of pizza for that,' Morelli said. 'I'd need a night of balls-to-the-wall sex.'

'You're going to get that anyway,' I told him.

***

Morelli was already out of the house when I dragged myself down the stairs and into the kitchen. I gave Bob a hug, scooped some coffee into the coffeemaker, added water, pushed the button, and listened to the magical gurgle of coffee brewing. Morelli had a loaf of raisin bread out on the counter. I considered toasting a slice, but it seemed like unnecessary work, so I ate a slice raw. I drank my coffee and read the paper Morelli left behind.

'Gotta go to work,' I said to Bob, pushing back from the table.

Bob didn't look like he cared a lot. Bob had found a patch of sun on the kitchen floor and was soaking it up.

I showered and got dressed in clean jeans and a little knit shirt. I swiped some mascara on my lashes and took off. I had two files pulled from the pack on the seat next to me. Leon James, the arsonist. And Lonnie Johnson. Both high bonds.

I drove the short distance to Hamilton and parked in front of the office. I got out of the Mini and looked across the street at the black SUV with Virginia plates and tinted windows. Carmen was on the job. I stuck my head into the office. Lula was on the couch reading a movie star magazine. Connie was at her desk.

'How long's the SUV been across the street?' I asked.