“It was hanging in my closet.”
“Christ.”
“Do you suppose this means the rabbit no longer needs the suit?” I asked.
I DIALED RANGER first thing the next morning. “About that security system,” I said.
“Are you still having visitors?”
“I found a rabbit suit in my closet last night.”
“Anybody in it?”
“Nope. Just the suit.”
“I'll send Hector.”
“Hector scares the hell out of me.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Ranger said. “But he hasn't killed anybody in over a year now. And he's gay. You're probably safe.”
Stephanie Plum 8 - Hard Eight
15
THE NEXT CALL was from Morelli. “I just got into work, and I heard an interesting piece of information,” Morelli said to me. “Do you know Leo Klug?”
“No.”
“He's a butcher at Sal Carto's Meat Market. Your mother probably gets her kielbasa there. Leo is about my height but heavier. He has a scar running the length of his face. Black hair.”
“Okay. I know who you mean. I was in there a couple weeks ago, picking up some sausage, and he waited on me.”
“It's pretty well known here that Klug has done some contract butchering.”
“You're not talking about cows.”
“Cows are the day job,” Morelli said.
“I have a feeling I'm not going to like the direction of this conversation.”
“Lately, Klug has been hanging out with a couple guys who work for Abruzzi. And this morning, Klug turned up dead, the victim of a hit-and-run.”
“Omigod.”
“He was found on the side of the road half a block from the butcher shop.”
“Any idea who hit him?”
“No, but statistics are high for a drunk driver.”
We pondered that for a moment.
“Probably your mother should run the LeSabre through a car wash,” Morelli said.
“Holy crap. My mother killed Leo Klug.”
“I didn't hear that,” Morelli said.