I hauled myself into the store and got myself a grape popsicle. “Hadda akthident,” I said to the clerk. “My lip ith thwollen.”
&nbs
p; “Maybe you should see a doctor.”
I ripped the paper off the popsicle and put the ice to my lip. “Ahhh.” I sighed. “Thas bedda.”
I returned to the car, put it into gear, and backed into a pickup truck. My whole life flashed in front of me. I was drowning. Please God, I prayed, don't let there be a dent.
We both got out and examined our cars. The pickup didn't have a scratch. No dent, no paint chipped, not even a smudge in the wax. The Cherokee looked like someone had taken a can opener to its right rear fender.
The guy driving the pickup stared at my lip. “Domestic quarrel?”
“A akthident.”
“Guess this just isn't your day.”
“No day ith my day,” I said.
Since the accident had been my fault, and there'd been no damage to his car, we didn't do the ritual of trading insurance information. I took one last look at the damage, shuddered violently, and slunk away, debating the value of suicide as opposed to facing Morelli.
The phone was ringing as I came through my front door. It was Dorsey.
“I haf an assault charge againth Ramireth,” I said. “He hit me in the mouff.”
“Where'd this happen?”
“Thark Threet.” I gave him the details and refused his offer to come to my apartment to get my statement. I didn't want to chance his running into Morelli. I promised I'd stop in tomorrow to complete the paperwork.
I took a shower and had ice cream for supper. Every ten minutes I'd look out the window to see if there was any sign of Morelli in the lot. I'd parked in a far corner where the lighting was poor. If I could just get through the night, tomorrow I'd take the Cherokee to Al at the body shop and see if he could do an instant repair. I had no idea how I'd pay for it.
I watched television until eleven and went to bed, lugging Rex's cage into the bedroom to keep me company. There'd been no phone calls from Ramirez and no sign of Morelli. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. I had no idea if Morelli was listening, protecting me as agreed, so I slept with my defense spray, my portable phone, and my gun on the nightstand.
My phone rang at six-thirty. It was Morelli.
“Time to get up,” he said.
I checked my bedside clock. “It's practically the middle of the night.”
“You'd have been up hours ago if you had to sleep in a Nissan Sentra.”
“What are you doing in a Sentra?”
“I'm having the van painted a different color and the antennae removed. I've managed to 'find' a new set of plates. In the meantime, the body shop gave me a loaner. I waited until dark and then parked on Maple, just behind the lot.”
“So you could guard my body?”
“Mostly I didn't want to miss hearing you get undressed. What was that weird squeaking sound all night?”
“Rex on his wheel.”
“I thought he lived in the kitchen.”
I didn't want Morelli to know I'd been scared and lonely, so I lied. “I cleaned the sink, and he didn't like the smell of the cleanser, so I brought him into the bedroom.”
The silence stretched for a couple beats.
“Translation,” Morelli said. “You were scared and lonely, and you brought Rex in for company.”