Two for the Dough (Stephanie Plum 2) - Page 25
“I could take your father.”
“But you wouldn't.”
Morelli still had his hands on my collar. “No, I wouldn't.”
“Tell me about the car again. There was no sign of struggle?”
“No sign of struggle. The keys were in the ignition and the driver's door was closed but unlocked.”
“Any blood on the pavement?”
“I haven't been out to the scene, but the crime lab checked around and didn't come up with any physical evidence.”
“Prints?”
“They're in the system.”
“Personal possessions?”
“None found.”
“Then he wasn't living out of the car,” I reasoned.
“You're getting better at this apprehension agent stuff,” Morelli said. “You're asking all the right questions.”
“I watch a lot of television.”
“Let's talk about Spiro.”
“Spiro hired me to look into a mortuarial problem.”
Morelli's face creased in laughter. “Mortuarial problem?”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“Doesn't have anything to do with Kenny?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
The upstairs window opened and my mother stuck her head out. “Stephanie,” she stage-whispered, “what are you doing out there? What will the neighbors think?”
“Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Plum,” Morelli called. “I was just leaving.”
Rex was running in his wheel when I got home. I switched the light on, and he stopped dead
in his tracks, black eyes wide, whiskers twitching in indignation that night had suddenly disappeared.
I kicked my shoes off en route to the kitchen, dropped my pocketbook onto the counter, and punched PLAY on my answering machine.
There was only one message. Gazarra had called at the end of his shift to tell me no one knew much about Morelli. Only that he was working on something big, and that it tied in to the Mancuso-Bues investigation.
I hit the off button and dialed Morelli.
He answered slightly out of breath on the sixth ring. Probably had just gotten into his apartment.
There didn't seem to be much need for small talk. “Creep,” I said, cutting to the heart of the matter.
“Gosh, I wonder who this could be.”
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