“I have to go back to my apartment for an hour or so. Morelli is working, so Lula is going to stay here with you.”
“No way! She scares the crap out of me.”
“You'll be fine as long as you don't tell her she's fat. And you might want to avoid mentioning the blue dye.”
“I'm not going out of my room.”
“That would be okay, too.”
I grabbed my purse and ran downstairs. “Don't let anyone dig in the yard,” I told Lula. “Morelli takes it personally. And Zook is a good kid, but it would be great if he didn't paint anything.”
“I'm on it. You can count on me. Do you think I should list shoes in the prenup?”
“Do you and Tank wear the same size?”
“No.”
“Then probably your shoes are safe.”
My apartment isn't that far from Morelli's house. Too far to walk but fast to drive. I parked the Zook car, bypassed the elevator for the stairs, and let myself into my apartment. I tapped on Rex's cage, and he peeked out at me. I dropped a baby carrot and a piece of cheese into his food dish and gave him fresh water. I stuffed clean jeans and a couple shirts into a tote bag. I didn't need much. Just enough to get me through a couple more days while we straightened out the Zook arrangements.
I took one last look at myself in my bathroom mirror. I wanted to believe that the blue was fading, but truth is, it wasn't. I was hideously blue. I was like Dom... conspicuous. A bunch of people were looking for Dom, and Dom didn't want to be found. And Dom didn't have the luxury of taking off for Rio. Dom had to hang close. Dom had his own agenda.
So let's step into Dom's shoes. I'm ultra-recognizable, and I'm confined to a small area. How would I move around? In disguise or at night. Second problem, I have no money. So either I mooch from someone I trust or else I hold up a convenience store. I'm going to guess he's mooching.
I called Connie. “Would you run a personal history on Dom for me?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where was he living when he was sent to prison?”
“That's easy. He owned a house on Vine Street. When he was sentenced, his wife divorced him and got the house. So far as I know, she's still living there and has remarried.”
I got the house number from Connie and hung up. I'd forgotten about the ex-wife. This was great. Ex-wives loved ratting on their ex-husbands.
The Vine Street house was a small single-family cape with a detached single-car garage. It had a green Subaru sitting in the driveway.
I parked and knocked on the front door. A woman answered and gasped when she saw me.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know I'm blue. I had an accident with some dye.”
“I know who you are,” she said. “You're Stephanie Plum. There was a piece on you on the late news last night. They said you were involved in the robbery treasure hunt, and you and Brenda got sprayed with blue dye. Do you really know Brenda?”
“Yes.”
“What's she like?”
“She's like Brenda. Could I ask you some questions about Dom?”
“Sure, but I don't know much about him anymore. I haven't seen him since he got out.”
“I'm interested in the guys he used to hang with.”
“Mostly they were from his old neighborhood. Victor Raguzzo, Benny Stoli, Jelly Kantner. And the guy who was shot. Allen Gratelli. Allen and Dom worked together.”
“Did you think any of those guys pulled the job with him?”
“I could see Allen doing it. Victor, Benny, and Jelly, no.”