“The post office frowns on the mailing of human body parts for sport purposes.”
“That was why you rushed us out of my parents' house?”
“I rushed us out of your parents' house because I didn't think I could manage two hours at the dinner table with everyone focused on Joe Loosey's joystick sitting in the refrigerator next to the applesauce.”
“I'd appreciate it if you could keep this quiet. I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea about me and Mr. Loosey.”
“Your secret is safe.”
“Do you think we should tell Spiro?”
“I think you should tell Spiro. Let him think the two of you are in this together. Maybe you can learn something.”
Morelli eased the truck into the Burger King drive-through and got a couple bags of food. He rolled the window up, pulled out into
traffic, and the truck immediately filled with the smell of America.
“It's not pot roast,” Morelli said.
That was true, but with the exception of dessert, food is food. I stuck the straw into my milk shake and dug around in the bag for the french fries. “These stories Kenny used to tell you . . . what were they about?”
“Nothing you want to hear. Nothing I even want to remember. Very sick shit.”
He took a handful of fries. “You never told me how you happened to locate Kenny in the motel.”
“Probably I shouldn't divulge my professional secrets.”
“Probably you should.”
Okay, public relations time. Time to appease Morelli by giving him some worthless information. With the added advantage of implicating him in an illegal activity. “I broke into Spiro's apartment and went through his trash. I found some phone numbers, ran them down, and came up with the motel.”
Morelli stopped for a light and turned his face to me. His expression was unreadable in the dark. “You broke into Spiro's apartment? Was this by way of an accidentally unlocked door?”
“It was by way of a window that managed to get broken by a pocketbook.”
“Shit, Stephanie, that's breaking and entering. People get arrested for that kind of stuff. They go to jail.”
“I was careful.”
“That makes me feel a lot better.”
“I figure Spiro will think it was Kenny and not report it.”
“So Spiro knew where Kenny was staying. I'm surprised Kenny wasn't more cautious.”
“Spiro has a caller ID device on his phone at the funeral parlor. Maybe Kenny didn't realize he could be picked up like that.”
The light changed, Morelli moved forward, and we rode in silence for the rest of the trip. He swung into the lot, parked and cut his lights.
“Do you want to come in, or would you prefer to be left out of the loop?” he wanted to know.
“I'd rather be left out of the loop. I'll wait here.”
He took the envelope with the penis, and he took a bag of food. “I'll do this as fast as I can.”
I gave him the paper with the guns and ammo information from Spiro's apartment. “I found some hardware in Spiro's bedroom. You might want to check to see if it came from Braddock.” I wasn't enamored with the idea of helping Morelli when he was still holding back on me, but I had no way of tracing the guns down on my own, and besides, if the stuff was stolen, Morelli'd owe me.
I watched him jog to the side door. The door opened, showing a fleeting rectangle of light in the otherwise dark brick facade. The door closed, and I unwrapped my cheeseburger, wondering if Morelli would have to bring someone in to identify the evidence. Louie Moon or Mrs. Loosey. I hoped he had the sense to remove the hat pin before lifting the lid for Mrs. Loosey.