“Everybody knows Jimmy Alpha.”
“What do you think of him?”
“Mixed feelings. He's always been an okay guy in my dealings with him. And I used to think he was a great manager. He did all the right things for Ramirez. Got him the right fights. Got him good trainers.” Morelli topped his coffee. “Guys like Jimmy Alpha spend their whole life hoping to get someone the caliber of Ramirez. Most of them never even come close. Managing Ramirez is like holding the winning ticket to the million-dollar lottery . . . only better because Ramirez will keep paying off. Ramirez is a gold mine. Unfortunately, Ramirez is also fucking nuts, and Alpha is caught between a rock and a hard spot.”
“That was my opinion, too. I guess holding that winning ticket would tempt a person to turn a blind eye to some of Ramirez's personality faults.”
“Especially now when they're just starting to make big money. Alpha supported Ramirez for years while he was just a punk kid. Now Ramirez has the title and has signed a contract for televised fights. He's literally worth millions to Alpha in future payoffs.”
“So your opinion of Alpha is tarnished.”
“I think Alpha is criminally irresponsible.” He looked at his watch. “Ramirez does road work first thing in the morning, then he eats breakfast at the luncheonette across from the gym. After breakfast he works out and usually he stays at it until four.”
“That's a lot of training.”
“It's all half-assed. If he had to fight anybody decent he'd be in trouble. His last two opponents have been handpicked losers. He has a fight in three weeks with another bum. After that he'll start to get serious for his fight with Lionel Reesey.”
“You know a lot about boxing.”
“Boxing is the ultimate sport. Man against man. Primal combat. It's like sex . . . puts you in touch with the beast.”
I made a strangled sound in the back of my throat.
He selected an orange from the bowl of fruit on the counter. “You're just pissed off because you can't remember the last time you saw the beast.”
“I see the beast plenty, thank you.”
“Honey, you don't see the beast at all. I've been asking around. You have no social life.”
I gave him a stiff middle finger. “Oh yeah, well social life this.”
Morelli grinned. “You're damn cute when you act stupid. Any time you want me to unleash the beast, you just let me know.”
That did it. I was going to gas him. I might not turn him in, but I'd enjoy watching him pass out and throw up.
“I have to split,” Morelli said. “One of your neighbors saw me come in. I wouldn't want to soil your reputation by staying too long. You should come onto Stark Street around noon and strut around for an hour or two. Wear your transmitter. I'll be watching and listening.”
I had the morning to kill, so I went out for a run. It wasn't any easier, but at least Eddie Gazarra didn't show up and tell me I looked like death warmed over. I ate breakfast, took a long shower, and planned how I was going to spend my money after I bagged Morelli.
I dressed in strappy sandals, a tight black knit miniskirt, and a stretchy red top with a low scoop neck that showed as much cleavage as was possible, given my bra size. I did the mousse and the spray thing with my hair so that I had a lot of it. I lined my eyes in midnight blue, gunked them up with mascara, painted my mouth whore red, and hung the biggest, brassiest earrings I owned from my lobes. I lacquered my nails to match my lips and checked myself out in the mirror.
Damned if I didn't make a good slut.
It was eleven o'clock. A little early, but I wanted to get this strutting around over with so I could visit Lula. After Lula I figured I'd do some shooting and then go home and wait for my phone to ring.
I parked a block from the gym and started down the street with my pocketbook hung from my shoulder and my hand wrapped around the Sure Guard. I'd discovered that the transmitter showed under the stretchy top, so I had it snug inside my
bikini underpants. Eat your heart out, Morelli.
The van was parked almost directly across from the gym. Jackie stood between me and the van. She looked even more sullen than usual.
“How's Lula?” I asked. “Have you seen her today?”
“They don't have no visiting hours in the morning. I don't got time to see her anyway. I gotta earn a living, you know.”
“The hospital said her condition was stable.”
“Yeah. They got her in a regular room. She gotta stay there awhile on account of she's still bleeding inside, but I think she'll be okay.”