“I lost my job and couldn't get another. I sold off my furniture to keep going.”
“That's when you decided to work for Vinnie?”
“I didn't have a lot of options.”
“So you're after me for the money. It's nothing personal.”
“In the beginning it wasn't.”
He was moving around my kitchen like he'd lived there all his life, setting plates on the counter, pulling a bowl of salad from the refrigerator. It should have seemed invasive and pushy, but it was actually very comfortable.
He flipped a rib steak onto each plate, covered them with the peppers and onions, and added a foil-wrapped baked potato. He set out salad dressing, sour cream, and steak sauce, shut the broiler off, and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. “Why is it personal now?”
“You chained me to the shower rod! Then you made me go rooting around in a Dumpster to get my keys! Every time I catch up to you, you do everything possible to humiliate me.”
“They weren't your keys. They were my keys.” He took a sip of wine, and our eyes locked. “You stole my car.”
“I had a plan.”
“You were going to snag me when I came after my car?”
“Something like that.”
He carried his plate to the table. “I hear Macy's has openings for make-over ladies.”
“You sound like my mother.”
Morelli grinned and dug into his steak.
The day had been exhausting, and the wine and good food were mellowing me out. We were eating at the table, sitting across from each other, absorbed in the meal like an old married couple. I cleaned my plate and pushed back in my chair. “What do you need from me?”
“Cooperation. And in return for that cooperation, I'll see to it that you collect your bounty money.”
“You've got my attention.”
"Carmen Sanchez was an informant. One night I'm sitting home watching television, and I get a call from her asking for help. She says she's been raped and beaten. She says she needs money, and she needs a safe place to stay, and in return she's going to give me something big.
"When I get to her apartment Ziggy Kulesza answers the door, and Carmen is nowhere in sight. Another guy, better known as the missing witness, comes out of the bedroom, recognizes me from who-knows-where, and panics. 'This guy's a cop,' he yells to Ziggy. 'I can't believe you opened the door to a goddamn cop.'
“Ziggy draws a gun on me. I return fire and shoot him almost point-blank. Next thing I know, I'm staring at the ceiling. The second guy is gone. Carmen's gone. Ziggy's gun is gone.”
“How could he have missed you at such close range? And if he missed you, where'd the bullet go?”
“The only explanation I can come up with is that the gun misfired.”
“And now you want to find Carmen so Carmen can back up your story.”
"I don't think Carmen's going to be backing up anyone's story. My guess is she was beaten up by Ramirez, and Ziggy and his pal were sent to finish the job. Ziggy did all Ramirez's dirty work.
“When you're out on the street like I am, you hear things. Ramirez likes to punish women. Sometimes women last seen in his company are known to disappear. I think he gets carried away and kills them, or maybe he hurts them so bad he has to send someone to finish the job to keep things quiet. Then the body vanishes. No body. No crime. I think Carmen was dead in the bedroom when I arrived. That's why Ziggy freaked.”
“There's only one door,” I said, “and no one saw her leave . . . dead or alive.”
“There's a window in the bedroom that overlooks the service road.”
“You think Carmen was pitched out the window?”
Morelli took his plate into the kitchen and started coffee brewing. “I'm looking for the guy who recognized me. Ziggy dropped the gun when he hit the floor. I saw it skitter to the side. When I got hit from behind, Ziggy's partner must have taken the gun, slipped off into the bedroom, dumped Carmen out the window, and followed her.”