Ranger squatted beside the body. “The most common grenade sends fragments over a wide radius. Orin was a munitions genius, and I’m guessing this was some sort of designer incendiary device. We need to clear this area and bring in a bomb expert to make sure there aren’t any more live explosives on him.”
“Is he dead?” Logan asked.
This was a no-brainer question considering what was left of Orin.
“He’s been dead for years,” Ranger said.
TWENTY-FOUR
LOGAN CARRIED TIKI into the hall, I grabbed my messenger bag, and Ranger carried Rex’s hamster tank. By the time we reached the parking lot, emergency vehicles were rumbling in. A fire truck, an EMT truck, two police cars. Morelli in the Buick.
Morelli parked and jogged over to us. He stood hands on hips, his expression grim.
“Are you okay?” he asked me.
“Except for my ponytail,” I said. “And some minor burns on my neck.”
He looked up at my apartment windows. “What’s going on?”
“The rocket guy blew himself up,” I said. “He needs to be checked out to make sure he’s not still booby-trapped.”
“Are you on the job?” Ranger asked Morelli.
“No,” Morelli said. “I’m off today. Jean Matson was working dispatch and called me when Rangeman asked for police assistance.”
“I’m going to see this through,” Ranger said. “It’s not necessary for anyone else to stay. I’m sure Stephanie will have to give a statement, but she can do that downtown some other time. I have the explosion and events immediately preceding it recorded.”
Morelli took Rex from Ranger. “Where do you want to go first, my house or a hair salon?”
I gave up a sigh. “Your house,” I said. I glanced at Logan, and thought he looked lost, cradling
Tiki, unsure of his place. “Can we take Logan with us?”
“Sure,” Morelli said, slinging an arm around me. “Let’s go home.”
We piled into the Buick and chugged out of the lot. Minutes later we were in Morelli’s nice normal neighborhood, and the explosion seemed far away.
“I thought you were taking me to jail,” Logan said when we parked.
“It’s not at the top of my list,” I told him. “I want to change out of this wet shirt, zone out on Morelli’s couch, and let it sink in that the nightmare is over.”
I went upstairs, swapped my shirt for one of Morelli’s T-shirts, trudged into the bathroom, and looked at my hair. Any other time I would have burst into tears, but right now I was happy just to be alive. It’s hair, I told myself. It’ll grow. I crawled into Morelli’s bed and woke up hours later in a panic. The wedding! I’d forgotten all about the wedding.
I ran downstairs and found Morelli, Logan, Tiki, and Bob on the couch watching television.
“Did Ranger call? Did I miss anything?” I asked.
“We got the bullets out of Tiki, filled him in with wood putty, and colored it with a brown Magic Marker,” Logan said. “He’s feeling a lot better.”
Morelli had his hand in a bag of chips. “Ranger called and I told him you were sleeping. He’s coming by at two o’clock with the dress. Since the original maid of honor didn’t think she could lose thirty pounds in time to fit the altered dress she relinquished the gig to you. And apparently Amanda really wanted you to still be in the wedding. Ranger said if you needed anything from your apartment you should call him.”
“It’s almost two now,” I said. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I went up to look in on you and you were out like a light. I thought you needed the sleep.”
I felt around the back of my head for the burned-off ponytail. “I need to do something with my hair.”
“Cupcake, that’s a lost cause. I can cut the singed ends off if you want.”