Notorious Nineteen

ELEVEN

IT WAS SUNDAY morning, and Morelli and I were at his little kitchen table enjoying a leisurely breakfast of coffee and leftover Chinese takeout. Morelli isn’t opposed to sleeping over in my apartment, but truth is, it works better for us to be in his house. My hamster, Rex, is self-sufficient with his water bottle and cache of food. Bob, not so much. Morelli has a yard for Bob plus a twenty-five-pound bag of dog kibble. Morelli also has a toaster and food in his refrigerator.

Morelli was always the bad boy wild child, and I was always the mostly good girl. Not to say I didn’t have my moments in high school. And I for sure was never as good as my sister, Valerie. Still, an odd reversal took place when I wasn’t looking, and I now find myself on the short end of maturity and financial stability.

I heard Morelli’s front door open and close, and then footsteps coming our way. Bob jumped out of his dog bed, ran to the back door, and whined to get out.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” I said to Morelli. “He always rushes to see who came in.”

Morelli stood and let Bob out. “It’s probably Grandma Bella. He’s terrified of her.”

Bob wasn’t the only one terrified of Bella. Everyone was terrified of Bella, including me. She was whacko, making with the evil eye and putting spells on people. Okay, so it was a stretch to think she could make someone break out in boils just by looking at them cockeyed, but there were enough bizarre coincidences to make you want to err on the side of caution and not piss her off.

Bella marched into the kitchen. As always, she was wearing a black dress, black stockings, black low-heeled shoes. Very old school Sicily. Her white hair was pulled back into a bun, she wore no makeup, and her eyebrows were thick and black, forming a unibrow. She could have been an extra in a Godfather movie, speaking broken English and using offensive Italian hand gestures. It was as if the longer she lived in the country, the more Sicilian she became.

She plunked a casserole down onto the table. “It’s Sunday. Why you not at church?” she said to Morelli. “And what this woman doing here?”

“Having breakfast,” he said. “You remember Stephanie.”

Bella narrowed her eyes at me. “Slut. You keeping my grandson from church.”

“Last time I was in church it was Christmas mass,” Morelli said.

Bella made the sign of the cross. “Holy Mother, help him. He good boy but he weak.” She shook her head. “All the Morelli men weak.”

“Thank you for the casserole,” I said.

“I not give it to you,” Bella said. “I make that for my grandson. You eat his casserole and bad thing happen to you. Warts.” She spotted Tiki sitting on the countertop. “What’s this?”

“It’s a Hawaiian wood carving,” Morelli said.

“You don’t have statue of the Virgin in your house but you have this silly thing,” Bella said. “You know nothing. I give it the eye. I fix it good.”

We heard a horn honk from the street.

“Did my mother drive you here?” Morelli asked Bella.

“No. That’s Mrs. Giovi. We’re going to second mass.”

Morelli put his arm around Bella and guided her back through the house to the front door. “Say hello to Mrs. Giovi for me.”

I heard him throw the bolt after Bella left.

“Too late to lock the door now,” I said when he came back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a casserole that’ll give me warts, and she put the eye on Tiki.”

“Too bad about the warts,” Morelli said. “The casserole looks pretty good.”

There was no way in heck I was touching it.

We walked Bob, and then got into Morelli’s SUV to pick up my car at the Mexicana Grill.

“Have you heard any more about Geoffrey Cubbin?” I asked Morelli when he stopped for a light.

“Only that he hasn’t surfaced. I don’t think he’s a priority with Schmidt. He’s counting on you to find him.”

“That’s not a good plan. I’m at a total dead end. I know there’s something wrong at the hospital but I haven’t a clue what it is. Four people have gone missing in the last three years. Dr. Fish operated on three of them. All mysteriously disappeared in the early morning. All had a reason to want to disappear. Geoffrey Cubbin, Floyd Dugan, and a guy named Hernandez. It’s been suggested someone at the hospital might be helping with the disappearance process for a bag of money.”

“Not a big payday in medicine anymore,” Morelli said. “I could see where that might lead to entrepreneurial activities.”

“And there’s a giant albino involved. Lula and I went to talk to Cubbin’s wife, and this guy jumped out of a closet at us. Lula thought it was a Yeti.”

“What did Cubbin’s wife say about it?”

“She wasn’t home.”

“I don’t want to hear this. You did B&E on Cubbin’s house, didn’t you?”

“Actually I just did ‘E.’ The door was unlocked.”

“That makes all the difference,” Morelli said.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Yes!”

“Anyway, it looks to me like Susan Cubbin took off with a bunch of newly purchased surveillance equipment. And this big guy with white hair and one blue eye and one brown eye was snooping in her house.”

“What happened after he jumped out of the closet?”

“He tagged Lula and me with a stun gun and that was the last we saw of him.”

“You got stunned?”

“Yeah. This wasn’t one of my better weeks.”

Morelli swung into the Mexicana Grill lot and parked next to the Buick. “Do you suppose we could spend some time exploring other employment options for you?”

“Such as?”

“An office job. Retail. Housewife.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Not entirely. Thought I’d throw it out there to see how it sounded.”

I looked at Morelli. “Well?”

“It sounded scary.”

“Kind of took my breath away,” I said.

“I’ll test drive it again next week and see if it gets more comfortable.”

“Do you have plans for today? Do you want to go to the beach?”

“The beach would be good,” Morelli said. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

I had my bikini on under my shorts and my T-shirt. I had a floppy hat, sunscreen, sunglasses, beach towel, plus all the usual other stuff in my tote bag. My doorbell bonged while I was searching for my flip-flops. I gave up the search and answered the door.

“You’re early,” I said to Morelli. And then I realized it wasn’t Morelli. It was Brody Logan with a large knife.

He jumped into my apartment, and I stumbled back.

“I want Tiki,” he said.

“I don’t have Tiki,” I told him. “I left him at a friend’s house.”

“I don’t believe you. What’s your friend’s name?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Tell me or I’ll cut you up into tiny bits.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I could do it,” he said. “I have this knife. It’s not just any old knife either. It’s a ceremonial knife.”

“It looks like a butcher’s knife.”

“It used to be a butcher’s knife, but now it’s a ceremonial knife on account of it’s being used for a righteous purpose. It’s like a holy tool now.”

I had my stun gun sitting on my kitchen counter. If I could get Logan to relax his guard and I could get to the stun gun, it would be my holy tool against his holy tool.

Logan craned his neck, looking around. “Where’s Tiki? I don’t see him.”

“I told you. He’s not here. How did you get here, anyway? And how did you find out where I live?”

“I googled you. You’re like famous. There were all these articles about how you burned down a funeral home, and how your apartment got firebombed.”

“The funeral home was an accident. And technically I didn’t start the fire.”

“Hey, I can totally relate. Like, I burned down a forest once, and it wasn’t my fault. We were just smokin’ some weed and next thing VROOOM forest fire.”

I took a step back, getting closer to my kitchen. “I thought you were homeless, living under the bridge. Did you take a cab here? Do you have a car?”

“No, man. I didn’t take a cab. Cabs cost mucho dinero. I’m saving my money to get Tiki and me back to Hawaii. I stole a car.”

“Clever,” I said. “Good thinking.”

He tapped the side of his head. “This ain’t my first rodeo.” I could see the flash of strobe lights projecting from the lot below us. Logan saw it too.

“Whoa, there must be an emergency,” Logan said. “Like a fire, or some old dude had a heart attack.”

He moved out of the small foyer into my living room and went to the window, and I grabbed my stun gun.

“It’s a police car,” Logan said. “And here comes a second. And they’re checking out a car. I bet there’s drugs in it. Or maybe it’s stolen. Man, this is so cool.” There was a moment of silence. “Uh-oh,” he said. “That’s my car they’re looking at. You’re gonna have to give me a ride back to the bridge.”

He turned and faced me, and I lunged at him with the stun gun. He shrieked and slashed at me with the knife. The tip caught me on the arm, and a bright red line instantly appeared from my elbow to my wrist.

Logan’s eyes went wide. “Oh jeez, I’m mega sorry. You need like a Band-Aid or something.”

What I needed was an entire box of Band-Aids. I didn’t think the cut was especially deep, but it was long and dripping blood on the carpet. I took my arm into the kitchen and wrapped a bunch of paper towels around it.

“Are you going to be okay?” Logan asked. “Like should I call 911?”

“Not necessary,” I told him. “It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, then,” he said. “I guess I’ll be going.”

“No!”

Too late. He was out the door and sprinting down the hall.

I had the paper towels held in place with elastic bands, and I was looking for my Band-Aids when Morelli walked in.

“What the heck?” he said. “What did you do?”

“Brody Logan was here looking for his tiki, and he accidentally nicked me with his ceremonial knife.”

“You’ve got your entire arm swaddled in paper towels and there’s blood all over your floor.”

“It was a big nick.”

Morelli carefully unwrapped my arm, rinsed it off, and patted it dry. He applied first-aid ointment and rewrapped the arm in paper towels since the three Band-Aids I found weren’t going to do the job.

“We’ll stop at the drugstore on the way and get a better bandage,” he said. “Do you still want to go to the shore?”

“Of course!”

I woke up with a slight sunburn and an arm wrapped in surgical gauze. It was Monday. A workday. And Morelli’s side of the bed was empty. The room was dark, but there was light shining from the hall. I could smell coffee brewing. I rolled out of bed, got dressed, and shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Morelli was at the little table with his coffee, toast, and cereal, and the morning paper. I kissed him on the top of his head and dropped a slice of bread into the toaster.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Lots to do today.”

“How’s the arm?”

“It feels fine.”

“Looks like Ranger was busy last night. An electrical supply warehouse was firebombed. Apparently it was a Rangeman account, and one of Ranger’s guys was on the scene when it happened and was pretty badly burned.”

I took the paper from Morelli and read the article. “This is Robert Kinsey’s warehouse. He was my Friday night security assignment.”

“Someone’s not happy with him,” Morelli said.

“Clearly.” I spread strawberry jelly on my toast and poured out a mug of coffee. “I don’t know much about it. Just that he’s worried. He’s getting married next Saturday, and Ranger and I will be doing security again.”

Morelli took his cereal bowl to the sink and rinsed it. “I have to go. Monday morning meeting.” He unlocked the drawer by the back door, removed his Glock, checked it out, and clipped it onto his belt. “Try to stay safe.”

“Has Bob been out?”

“Bob’s done everything he needs to do. Francine Lukach will be here at noon as usual to walk him.”

I finished my breakfast, retrieved my tote bag, and grabbed Tiki. “I’d leave you here,” I said to Tiki, “but I’m afraid his Grandma Bella will return and perform a ritual sacrifice, turning you into a pile of ash.”

Probably it was my imagination but I swear I felt a shiver run through Tiki. I went to the door, looked out, and realized I didn’t have a car. My car was parked in my lot. The sun was barely up. Lula would still be asleep. It would be awkward to ask my father to come get me after a night of gorilla sex with Morelli. Too far to walk, especially lugging a three-foot tiki. I could call Ranger but that was even more awkward.

My phone rang and I grimaced at the number. Ranger.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “Where are you? Your car is in your lot, but your bag is at Morelli’s.”

“You have my bag bugged?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No!”

“Now you know. Where are you?”

“I’m at Morelli’s house. I’m stranded.”

Disconnect.

I looked at Tiki. “He’s coming,” I said.