The door swung open and Sally stuck his head in. “Fucking kinky,” he said. “Who cuffed you to the fridge?”
“I had a little scuffle with Maxine.”
“Looks like you lost.”
“Don't suppose you saw her hanging out in the parking lot.”
“Nope.”
My biggest fear was that she'd gotten away, never to be found. My second biggest fear was that Joyce had nabbed her. “Go down to the basement and get Dillon, the super, and ask him to come up with his hacksaw.”
Twenty minutes later I was still wearing a bracelet, but at least I was free of the refrigerator. Sally had left for rehearsal. Dillon was on his way downstairs with a six-?pack under his arm. And I was late for an appointment with a box full of dog shit.
I barreled down the stairs and out the door. I started toward my car but pulled up short when Joyce rolled into the parking lot.
“Joyce,” I said, “long time, no see.” I peeked into her car, looking for Maxine. “You still following me?”
“Hell no. I have better things to do than to sit around all day waiting for someone to get hit with a pie. I came by to tell you good-?bye.”
“Giving up?”
“Getting smart. I don't need you to find Maxine.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“I know where she's hiding. I have a contact who knows all about Maxine's transactions. Too bad you were never in retail like me. I made a lot of connections.”
The driver's-?side window rolled up, and Joyce roared out of the lot, down the street.
Great. Joyce has connections.
I crossed to the CRX and noticed that someone had left a note under my windshield wiper.
I said I'd get even and 1 meant it. I've been watching you and 1 know he was here. This is your last warning. Leave my boyfriend alone! Next time I soak something with gasoline I'll strike a match to it.
This was about somebody's boyfriend. And only one person came to mind. Morelli. Ugh! To think I almost went to bed with him. I squeezed my eyes shut. I fell for all that talk about no condoms and no sex. What was I thinking? I should have known better than to believe anything Morelli told me. And it wasn't hard to guess the girlfriend's name. Terry Gilman. This threat had mob written all over it. And Connie had said Terry was connected.
I sniffed at my car. Gasoline. I put my finger to the hood. It was still wet. Morelli's unhinged girlfriend must have just been here. Probably did this while I was chained to the refrigerator. No big deal, I thought. I'd run the CRX through a car wash.
I stuck the key in the door lock more out of force of habit than actual thought. The key didn't go through the usual turn, which meant the door wasn't locked. I looked closer and saw the scratches made next to the window. Someone had used a jimmy bar to pop the lock.
I had a premonition of bad news.
I did a fast peek in the window. Nothing seemed stolen. The radio looked intact. I opened the driver's side door and the gasoline smell almost knocked me to my knees. I put my hand to the seat. It was soaked. The floor mats were soaked. The dash was soaked. Gasoline pooled in nooks and crannies.
Shit! Goddamn Morelli. I was more angry at him than I was at Terry. I looked around the lot. No one there but me.
I whipped out my cell phone and started dialing. No answer at Morelli's house. No answer at his office number. No answer on his car phone. I kicked a tire and did some inventive swearing.
I was parked in a back corner of the lot with no cars in the immediate vicinity. It seemed to me the safest thing to do right now was to leave the car parked and let some of the gas evaporate away. I opened the windows wide, went back to the apartment building and called Lula at the office.
“I need a ride,” I told Lula. “Car problems.”
* * * * *
“OKAY, so tell me again about this box,” Lula said, lining the Firebird up with the curb in front of Kuntz's house.
“Maxine says it's filled with dog doody, so we shouldn't touch it.”