"Yeah. The drop boat snags the dope from the mother ship and brings it back to a small marina like this where there are no customs inspectors.
“My guess is they load the stuff into these barrels after it's handed down, and one of the bags broke last time out.”
“Hard to believe someone would be that sloppy about leaving incriminating evidence.”
Morelli grunted. “You work with drugs all the time and they become commonplace. You wouldn't believe what people leave in full view in apartments and garages. Besides, the boat belongs to Sal, and chances are Sal wasn't along for the ride. That way if the boat gets busted, Sal says he loaned it to a friend. He didn't know it was being used for illegal activities.”
“You think this is why there's so much heroin in Trenton?”
“Could be. When you have a drop boat like this you can bring in large quantities and eliminate the couriers, so you have good availability at low overhead. The cost on the street goes down and the purity goes up.”
“And addicts start dying.”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you think Ramirez shot Sal and Louis?”
“Maybe Ramirez had to burn some bridges.”
Morelli played his light over the back corners of the truck. I could barely see him in the dark, but I could hear the scrape of his feet as he moved.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I'm looking for a gun. In case you haven't noticed I'm shit out of luck. My witness is dead. If I can't find Ziggy's missing gun with an intact latent, I'm as good as dead, too.”
“There's always Ramirez.”
“Who may or may not be feeling talkative.”
“I think you're overreacting. I can place Ramirez at the scene of two execution-type killings, and we've uncovered a major drug operation.”
“Possibly this casts some doubt about Ziggy's character, but it doesn't alter the fact that I appeared to have shot an unarmed man.”
“Ranger says you've got to trust in the system.”
“Ranger ignores the system.”
I didn't want to see Morelli in jail for a crime he didn't commit, but I also didn't want him living the life of a fugitive. He was actually a pretty good guy, and as much as I hated to admit it, I'd become fond of him. When the manhunt was over I'd miss the teasing and the latenight companionship. It was true that Morelli still touched a nerve every now and then, but there was a new feeling of partnership that transcended most of my earlier anger. I found it hard to believe he would be sent to jail in light of all the new evidence. Possibly he would lose his job on the force. This seemed like a minor disgrace to me when compared to spending long years in hiding.
“I think we should call the police and let them sort through this,” I said to Morelli. “You can't stay in hiding for the rest of your life. What about your mother? What about your phone bill?”
“My phone bill? Oh shit, Stephanie, you haven't been running up my phone bill, have you?”
“We had an agreement. You were going to let me bring you in when we found the missing witness.”
“I hadn't counted on him being dead.”
“I'll be evicted.”
“Listen, Stephanie, your apartment isn't all that great. Besides, this is wasted talk. We both know you aren't capable of bringing me in by force. The only way you're going to collect your money is by my permission. You're just going to have to sit tight.”
“I don't like your attitude, Morelli.”
The light whirled, and he lunged toward the door. “I don't much care what you think of my attitude. I'm not in a good mood. My witness is dead, and I can't find the damn murder weapon. Probably Ramirez will squeal like a pig, and I'll be exonerated, but until that happens I'm staying hidden.”
“The hell you are. I can't believe it's in your best interest. Suppose some cop sees you and shoots you? Besides, I have a job to do, and I'm going to do it. I should never have made this deal with you.”
“It was a good deal,” he said.