“Just lead them around. Make something up. At least no one will shoot at you. And there won't be any monkeys,” Connie said.
I hung up and looked at Morelli. “Connie wants me to find Loretta.”
“Good,” Morelli said. “I want you to find Loretta, too. Loretta probably knows what's going on. She might even know where the money is located.”
“I don't know where to begin.”
“There were four men involved in the robbery. Go on the assumption that Allen Gratelli was one of the men and find the other two. I'm guessing one of them has Loretta.”
“Why aren't you looking for Loretta?”
“I'm baby-sitting her kid. And it seems to me it's more dangerous to stay in this house than to be on the streets. So I'm staying here, and you're hitting the streets.”
“Okay, fine, terrific, I'll go find Loretta, but you're going to owe me.”
“Shazam,” Morelli said.
The bonds office looked like it was holding a casting call for 'Ho Bounty Hunters. Lula and Brenda were there, dressed in their leathers, plus Nancy, Mark Bird, and his producer and the camera crew.
“I can't drag everyone around with me,” I told them. “I need to talk to people, and the camera crew is intimidating. They're going to have to stay in the van.”
“Okay,” Mark said, “we'll wire you for sound and we'll do re-creations.”
“What's this Loretta like?” Brenda wanted to know. “What did she do?”
“She robbed a liquor store,” I told her.
“Was she armed?”
“Yeah. She had a lightsaber.”
“A what?”
“She had her kid's Star Wars lightsaber from Disney World.”
“But she got a lot of money, right?” Brenda said.
“Actually, she got a bottle of gin. She needed a Tom Collins.”
“Been there, done that,” Brenda said.
I took the new paperwork from Connie, plus a profile on Allen Gratelli, and we all piled into Lula's Firebird. Lula drove north on 206, past Bider College, to a neighborhood of modest houses. She wound down a couple streets and stopped at a house with a lot of cars parked in the driveway. This was Gratelli's house and it looked like people were arriving to give their condolences. Problem was, according to Connie's computer check, Gratelli lived alone. He was divorced, no children. His parents were deceased. He had two brothers and one sister.
Lula parked on the street, and we walked to the house.
The front door was open, and I could hear people yelling at one another inside.
“Knock, knock,” I said, peeking into the house.
Two men were shoving each other around, a guy in a cable uniform was ransacking a chest in the hall, and a woman was yelling at the two men.
“You dumb shit,” the woman said to one of the men. “Who cares if he slept with your wife? Your wife is a slut. Everyone's slept with your wife. Stop being a jerk and go look for the stupid directions.”
“What directions?” I asked her.
Her head snapped around, and she took in Lula and Brenda and me. “Cripes,” she said. “It's the rod squad. I knew
Allen was a sicko, but this is ridiculous.”