hospital, and he can’t figure how Cubbin got out.”
“Grandma said there’ve been budget cuts, and she thought the security cameras might not be working.”
“The hall camera and the elevator cameras were working. If Cubbin left his room he would have been caught on video.”
“How about the window?”
“No sign of impact below the window,” Morelli said.
“Vinnie’s going to be out a lot of money if I can’t find Cubbin. And I could use the recovery fee.”
“That’s a nice dress,” Morelli said. “Do you need help getting it off?”
“No!”
EIGHT
“SO HOW’D YOUR big date go?” Lula asked when I walked into the office.
“It wasn’t a big date. It was business.”
“I wouldn’t mind doing some business with him. I swear he’s the finest man ever made.”
Connie looked up from her computer. “Did I miss something?”
“Stephanie had a date with Ranger last night,” Lula said.
“It was business,” I told Connie. “He needed someone to attend an event with him. It wasn’t social.”
“It don’t have to be social to be sexual with Ranger,” Lula said. “Unfortunately I don’t know firsthand, but I have a active fantasy life.”
“If you don’t have any leads on Cubbin you might try to find Brody Logan,” Connie said to me. “He’s got a medium high bond, and he’s got his collateral. Vinnie made the mistake of not confiscating it when he bonded him out.”
I pulled the file out of my bag and glanced at it. “It says here ‘religious icon.’ What does that mean? Is it a cross? A picture of the Virgin Mary?”
“It’s a tiki,” Connie said. “It’s three foot high and carved out of some sacred Hawaiian tree.”
“I thought a tiki was one of them thatched huts they got in the Bahamas,” Lula said. “They serve the best drinks at them tikis.”
“Different tiki,” Connie said.
“Do you have a picture?” I asked.
“No, but I think if you’ve seen one tiki you’ve seen them all. How different can a tiki be?”
“I never seen one,” Lula said.
“I have,” I told her. “They had one at the hotel when I was in Hawaii. They sort of look like a piece of a totem pole.”
“This might be a good time to get Logan,” Connie said. “He’s probably still hanging out under the bridge.”
“You got big bags under your eyes,” Lula said to me. “You sure you didn’t have a night of hot love with Ranger?”
“Positive. I got food poisoning and threw up three times.”
“Bummer,” Lula said. “That probably put a crimp in his style.”
I hung my messenger bag on my shoulder and turned toward the door. “I’m off.” I looked at Lula. “Are you coming with me?”
“Yeah, I’m hoping to see the tiki.”
I took Hamilton to Broad and turned off Broad at Third Avenue. The Freemont Street Bridge was two blocks down Third. It was a good location for someone like Logan because it was close to a city soup kitchen, and the blocks around the soup kitchen had a lot of panhandling potential. I parked on the street, and Lula and I got out and walked across a rough patch of rogue weed and assorted trash. The bridge itself spiraled overhead, connecting Third Avenue to the freeway. A slum had developed under the bridge, with cardboard box huts and plywood shanties. Three men stood smoking in the shade.
“It’s like a little town here,” Lula said. “I bet it could be cozy in one of them cardboard boxes except for the rats. And probably they got no cable.”
“They’re also missing indoor plumbing.”
“Maybe they got a box designated for that.”
The men watched us approach. One of them looked drugged out and crazy. The other two just looked tired.
“Howdy,” Lula said. “How’s it going?”
“The usual,” one of them said. “What’s up?”
“We’re looking for Brody Logan,” Lula told him. “Is he here?”
No one said anything, but one of the men nodded toward a small bedraggled tent. I gave him a couple dollars and went to the
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