Morelli moved out of sight, and I waited with my eye glued to the peephole. I heard the elevator doors open and close, and then everything was quiet. Reprieve. Morelli was leaving.
I didn't know what Morelli wanted, and it seemed prudent not to find out—just in case it involved arresting me. I ran to my bedroom window, looked through the slit between the curtains and peeked down at the parking lot. I watched Morelli leave the building and get into an unmarked car.
I continued to watch, but nothing happened. He wasn't leaving. It looked like he was talking on his car phone. A few minutes went by, and my phone rang. Gosh, I thought, I wonder who that could be? On the odd chance it might be Morelli I let the machine pick it up. No message was left. I looked down into the lot. Morelli wasn't on his phone anymore. He was just sitting there, staking out the building.
I took a fast shower, dressed in clean clothes, fed Rex and went back to the window to check on Morelli. Still there. Rats.
I dialed Ranger's number.
“Yo,” Ranger answered.
“It's Stephanie.”
“I have something that belongs to you.”
“That's a relief,” I said, “but that's not my most pressing problem. I've got Joe Morelli sitting out in my parking lot.”
“He coming or going?”
“There's a small chance he might want to arrest me.”
“Not a good way to start the day, babe.”
“I think I can get out the front door without being seen. Can you meet me at Bessie's in half an hour?”
“Be there,” Ranger said.
I disconnected, called the office and asked for Lula.
“Your nickel,” Lula said.
“It's Stephanie,” I told her. “I need a ride.”
“Oh boy. Is this more bounty hunter shit?”
“Yeah,” I said. “This is bounty hunter shit. I want you to pick me up at my front door in ten minutes. I don't want you to park in the lot. I want you to cruise by the front of the building until you see me standing on the curb.”
I blasted my hair with the dryer and did another take-a-look at Morelli. No change. He had to be freezing. Fifteen minutes more, and he'd be back in the building. I zipped myself into my jacket, grabbed my big shoulder bag and took the stairs to the first floor. I quickly crossed the small lobby and exited the front door.
There was no sign of Lula, so I huddled with my back to the building, crunched down inside my coat. Hard to believe Morelli would be here to arrest me, but stranger things have been known to happen. Innocent people were accused of crimes every day. More likely Morelli wanted to do another question session. I couldn't get excited about that either.
I heard Lula before I saw her. To be more specific, I felt the vibrations in the soles of my feet and against my rib cage. The Firebird slid to a stop in front of me, Lula's head bobbing in time to the music, lips moving to the beat. Boombaba boombaba.
I jumped in next to her and motioned to take off. The Firebird sprang to life and rocketed into the stream of traffic.
“Where we going?” Lula shouted.
I adjusted the volume. “Bessie's. I'm meeting Ranger.”
“Your Buick on the blink too?”
“The Buick is fine. It's my life that's on the blink. Did you hear about the homicide at Uncle Mo's last night?”
“You mean that you aced Ronald Anders? Sure I heard. Everybody heard.”
“I didn't ace him! I was knocked out. Someone killed him while I was unconscious.”
“Sure. That's what's going around, but I figured . . . you know, dead or alive, right?”