“You didn't think my job was so bad when we first got together.”
“That was different. It wasn't like you were going to be the mother of my children.”
“I don't know if I even want children.”
“Christ,” Morelli said. “Don't ever say that to my mother or my grandmother. They'll put a contract out on you.”
“You're really not going to give me the address?”
“No.”
“I'll get it some other way.”
“Fine,” Morelli said. “I want no part of this.”
“You're going to tell Tom Bell, aren't you?”
“Yes. Leave this to the police.”
“This is war,” I said to Morelli.
“Oh boy,” he said. “War again.”
Stephanie Plum 7 - Seven Up
14
I HUNG UP on Morelli and got the address from Mary Maggie. Now I had a problem. I had no one to partner with me. It was Saturday night and Lula was out on a date. Ranger would respond, but I didn't want to impose on him so soon after the shooting. And besides, there was the price to pay. I got heart palpitations thinking about it. When I was close to him and the body chemistry was working I wanted him bad. When there was distance between us the possibility of sleeping with Ranger scared the hell out of me.
If I waited until tomorrow I'd be one step behind the police. There was one person left, but the thought of working a case with him made me break out in a cold sweat. That person was Vinnie. When Vinnie had started the agency he'd done all his own apprehensions. As the business grew he'd added staff and put himself behind the desk. He still does the occasional apprehension, but it isn't his favorite thing. Vinnie is a good bail bondsman, but it's rumored that Vinnie isn't the world's most ethical bounty hunter.
I looked at the clock. I had to make a decision. I didn't want to procrastinate so long that I had to roust Vinnie out of bed.
I took a deep breath and dialed.
“I've got a lead on DeChooch,” I told Vinnie. “I'd like to check it out but I haven't got anyone to do backup for me.”
“Meet me at the office in a half hour.”
I PARKED THE bike in the back, next to Vinnie's midnight blue Cadillac. Lights were on inside and the back door was open. Vinnie was strapping a gun to his leg when I strolled in. He was in requisite bounty hunter black, complete with Kevlar vest. I, on the other hand, was dressed in jeans and olive-drab T-shirt with a navy flannel shirt worn jacket-style. My gun was home in the cookie jar. I hoped Vinnie didn't ask about the gun. I hate the gun.
He tossed a vest at me, and I shrugged into it.
“I swear,” he said, looking at me, “I don't know how you ever make a capture.”
“Luck,” I told him.
I handed him the address and followed him to the car. I'd never gone out with Vinnie before, and it was a strange sensation. Our relationship has always been adversarial. We know too much about each other to ever be friends. And we know we would both be willing to use that knowledge in ruthless ways if pushed too far. Okay, the truth is I'm not all that ruthless. But I can deliver a good threat. Maybe the same is true of Vinnie.
Soba's house was in a neighborhood that had probably originated in the seventies. Lots were large and trees had matured. The houses were classic split foyer with two-car garages and fenced backyards to corral dogs and kids. Most houses had lights on, and I imagined adults were sleeping in front of televisions and kids were in bedrooms doing homework or surfing the Net.
Vinnie idled across from Soba's house.
“You're sure this is the place?” Vinnie asked.
“Mary Maggie said she'd been to a party here and it matched the description Grandma gave.”
“Oh boy,” Vinnie said, “I'm going to break into a house on the say-so of a mud wrestler. Not just any house, either. Pinwheel Soba's house.” He drove halfway around the block and parked. We got out and walked back to the house. We stood for a moment on the sidewalk, looking at the surrounding houses, listening for sounds that might indicate people outdoors.