'Wha…' I said.
Grandma was bending over me. 'You got zapped by Joyce Barnhardt. I heard you go over, and I turned around and saw Joyce standing there with a stun gun. We called the police, but she ran off. Dirty rotten coward.'
I looked past Grandma and saw a mall rent-a-cop nervously looking down at me.
'Are you okay?' he asked. 'We got a doctor coming.'
'Get me up on my feet,' I said.
'I don't know if I should,' he said. 'Maybe you should just lay there until help gets here.'
'Get me up!' I yelled at him. 'I don't need a doctor. I need a new car and a new job and ten minutes alone with Ranger. This is all his fault.'
The rent-a-cop got me under my armpits and hoisted me up. I went down to my knees, grabbed hold of his shirt, and pulled myself up again.
'Jeez, lady,' he said.
'Don't worry,' I told him. 'This happens to me a lot. I'm good at it.'
Grandma led me through the mall, and we managed to get to the parking lot and the Vic without the doctor finding me. I was supposed to be keeping a low profile. I didn't want to find myself on the evening news. Local bounty hunter stun-gunned in mall. Details at eight.
Grandma stood back and looked at my car. 'Was your car decorated like this when we left it? I don't remember all this writing on it.'
Someone had spray-painted PIG CAR in black and white on the passenger side door and trunk lid.
'It's new,' I said.
'I would have used brighter colors,' Grandma said. 'Gold would have looked good. You can't go wrong with gold.'
'The black and white goes better with the squirrel hair stuck to the dash,' I told her.
'I was wondering what that was,' Grandma said. 'I figured it was one of them new animal print decorator schemes.'
'Lula helped me with it.'
'Isn't she the one,' Grandma said.
I got behind the wheel and motored out of the lot and onto the highway.
'Do you hear a grinding sound?' Grandma asked.
'All cars sound like that,' I said. 'You're just noticing it because I don't have the radio on loud enough. What about Milton? Did you notice if he was wearing jewelry?'
'Nothing worth anything. His lodge lapel pin. That was about it. I know you're looking for Simon Diggery. It'll take something good to get him out in this weather. I'll check out Harry Rozinski, but he probably won't have anything worth taking, and he's not Diggery's size.'
'Do you need a ride tonight?”
'No. Elmer has a car. He's picking me up.'
It was a little after four when I dropped Grandma off.
Lights were on in Burg houses and tables were being set for dinner. This was a community where families still sat together for meals. I turned right onto Hamilton and ten minutes later, I was in my apartment building. I let myself in, and Bob rushed over to me.
'Where's Joe?' I asked him.
Not in the kitchen. Not in the dining room. Not in the living room. I went to the bedroom and found him asleep in my bed.
'Hey Goldilocks,' I said.
Morelli came awake and rolled onto his back. 'What time is it?'
'Four-thirty. Have you been here long?'
'Couple hours.'
'I heard a news report on the Berringer murders while I was in the car. They said the police were baffled.'
'Baffled and tired. I need some sleep. I'm too old for this middle-of-the-night murder shit.'
'There was a time when you did all sorts of things in the middle of the night.'
'Come here and you can tell me about them.'
'I thought you were tired.'
'I just want to talk,' Morelli said.
'That's a big fib. I know what you want to do.'
Morelli smiled. 'Hard for a man to keep a secret.'
Morelli was at my kitchen counter, drinking coffee, eating cereal. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he was clean-shaven. In ten minutes, he'd have a five o'clock shadow. He was wearing worn-out black jeans, a pale gray cable-knit sweater, and black motorcycle boots.
'You don't look like a cop,' I told him. 'All the other guys wear suits.'
'I've been asked by the chief not to wear a suit. I look like a casino pit boss when I wear a suit. I don't inspire trust.'
I poured myself a bowl of cereal and added milk. 'It was nice of you to bring all this food.'
'Your cupboards were empty. And your refrigerator. I'm guessing the bounty hunter business is slow.'
'It comes and goes. Problem is, I only make enough money to live day by day. I can't make enough to get ahead.'
'It would be easier if you moved in with me.'
'We've tried that. Its always a disaster. Eventually, we drive each other nuts.'
'It's your job,' Morelli said.
'It's your expectations.'
He put his cereal bowl in the sink and buckled his gun onto his belt.
'Yeah, my expectations are that you'll give up your job.'
'Are we fighting?'
'Am I yelling and waving my arms?'
'No.'
'Then we aren't fighting.' He crooked an arm around my neck and kissed me. 'I have to go. I'm working with Phil Panchek. He hates being baffled without me.'
'Marty Gobel never called to talk to me. Does that mean I'm off the hook?'
'No. It means he's dreading talking to you for fear you don't have an alibi, and he's procrastinating as long as possible.'
Bob was leaning against me. 'Are you taking Bob?'
'Yeah, I'll drop him off at my house. He has a routine. He eats the couch. He takes a nap. He gnaws on a dining room table leg. He takes a nap. He spreads the garbage all over the kitchen floor. He takes a nap.'
I fondled Bob's ear. 'You're lucky you have a dog who can amuse himself while you're gone.'
Morelli shrugged into his jacket and clipped Bob's leash on him. 'Later.'
I finished my coffee and cereal and hand-washed the dishes. I took a shower and put in the minimum effort on my hair. Truth is, the minimum effort isn't that far removed from the maximum effort, and my hair pretty much looks the same no matter what I do with it. I applied some mascara and looked myself in the eye in the mirror.
'Today is the day,' I said to myself. 'Time to get serious. If you don't catch someone soon, you'll get kicked out of your apartment.'
I got dressed in my lucky jeans and my lucky black sweater. It was still cold, but it wasn't snowing or sleeting, so I traded my fake Uggs for running shoes… just in case I had to chase down Diggery. I had cuffs in my back jeans pocket. Pepper spray in my jacket pocket. A stun gun clipped to my belt. I went to the kitchen and took my gun out of my cookie jar. It was a little five-shot Smith & Wesson. I spun the barrel. No bullets. I looked in the jar. No bullets. I rummaged through kitchen drawers. No bullets. I put the gun back into the cookie jar. I didn't really want to shoot anyone today anyway.
I got bundled up in my parka and scarf and gloves, and went out to the Vic. I crawled in and plugged the key into the ignition. It took a while, but the engine finally caught. All right, so I didn't have a great car. No big deal, I
