“Singh is nowhere to be found.”
“And the dog?”
A couple beats of silence. “What's with you and the dog?”
“I don't know. I just have these dog feelings.”
"Not a good sign, babe. Next thing you'll be adopting cats.
And then one day you'll get all choked up when you walk down the baby food aisle in the supermarket. And you know what happens after that..."
“What?”
“You'll be punching holes in Morelli's condoms.”
I would like to think the scenario was funny, but I was afraid it might be true. “I visited with the people at TriBro,” I told Ranger. “I didn't come away with anything useful.”
I caught a familiar reflection in my rearview mirror. Ranger in his truck. How he always managed to find me was part of the mystery.
Ranger flashed his lights to make sure I saw him. “Let's talk to the Apusenjas,” he said.
We drove around the block to Sully Street, parked behind the burgundy Escort, and walked to the door together.
Mama Apusenja answered. She was still in the sari and her fat rolls made me think of the Michelin tire guy.
“Well,” she said to me, with a head wag. “I see you've cleaned yourself up. You must be a terrible burden to your mother. I am feeling so sorry for her not to have a proper daughter.”
I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to speak and Ranger leaned into me and rested a hand on my shoulder. Probably he thought I was going to do something rash, like call Mrs. Apusenja a fat cow. And in fact he was right. Fat cow was on the tip of my tongue.
“I thought it might be helpful to see Singh's room,” Ranger said to Mrs. Apusenja.
“Will you be bringing this one in with you?”
Rangers grip on me tightened. “This one's name is Stephanie,” Ranger said pleasantly. “And yes, she'll be coming with me.”
“I suppose it will be all right,” Mrs. Apusenja said grudgingly “I will expect you to be careful. I keep a very nice house.” She stepped back from the door and motioned us in to the living room. “This is the formal parlor,” she said proudly “And beyond that is the dining room. And then the kitchen.”
Ranger and I stood speechless for a moment, taking it all in. The house was filled to the bursting with overstuffed furniture, end tables, lamps, trinkets, dried flowers, faded photos, stacks of magazines and bowls of fake fruit. And elephants. There were ceramic elephants, elaborate elephant couch pillows, elephant clocks, foot stools, and planters. Elephants aside, there was no dominant style or color. It was a garage sale waiting to happen.
I watched Ranger scan the room and I suspected he was doing a mental grimace. It would be easy to miss a note in the mess. For that matter, it would be easy to miss Singh. He could be slouched in a chair somewhere and never be noticed.
Mrs. Apusenja led the way upstairs, across the short hallway to a small bedroom. She was wearing pink rubber flip-?flops that slapped against her heels and hit the floor at an angle so her heel was always half off the shoe. Her toenails were massive, painted a virulent shimmering purple. I was directly behind her and from my angle her ass looked to be about three feet across.
“This is Samuel's room,” she said, gesturing to the open door. “It's so sad that it's empty. He was such a nice young man. So polite. Very respectful.” She said this cutting a look back at me, sending the message that she knew I had none of those wonderful qualities.
Ranger and I stepped inside the room and I was hit with a wave of claustrophobia. The double bed was neatly made, covered with a green, yellow, and purple-?flowered quilted bedspread that shouted yikes. The curtains matched the bedspread and hung over seasick green sheers. The walls were plastered with outdated calendars and thumb-?tacked posters, subjects ranging from Winnie the Pooh to Springsteen, the Starship Enterprise, and Albert Einstein. There was a night-?stand beside the bed and a small desk and rickety chair wedged between the bed and the wall.
“You see, it's such a nice room,” Mrs. Apusenja said. “He was lucky to have this room. We have a room in the basement that we also rent out on occasion, but we gave Samuel this room because I knew he would be a suitor for Nonnie.”
Ranger rifled through the nightstand and desk drawers. “Was Samuel unhappy about anything?”
“No. He was very happy. Why would he be unhappy? He had everything. We even allowed him kitchen privileges.”
“Have you notified his family of his disappearance?”
“I have. I thought perhaps he was suddenly called home, but they have heard nothing from him.”
Ranger moved on to the desk. He opened the middle drawer and extracted Singh's passport. “New York is his only entry.”