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Authors: Janet Evanovich
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look good,” I said to Morelli.
“There’s another body down there. Obviously buried after the fire because the building would have been over the grave site.”
“Any idea who it is?”
“Terry told me that Bobby Lucarelli, Dugan’s lawyer, disappeared at about the same time as Dugan. He’d be on my short list.”
I made an effort not to use my crazy jealous voice. “Terry?”
“Terry Gilman. Lou Dugan was her uncle, and she worked for him a couple years ago. Mostly doing bookkeeping.”
“I bet.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to tell what Terry works at. Not that I care right now. She’s cooperating with the investigation.”
“I bet.”
Morelli grinned down at me. “Are you jealous?”
“I don’t trust her.”
“How about me? Do you trust me?”
I ran the question through my mind.
“Well?” Morelli asked.
“I’m thinking.”
Morelli blew out a sigh.
“Watch what you’re doing with that shovel,” the M.E. yelled to one of the diggers. “I don’t want this guy going in the bag in a million pieces.”
A wave of nausea slid through my stomach. “I’m out of here,” I said. “Will I see you tonight?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be late,” he gave me a quick kiss. “Don’t wait dinner.”
THIRTEEN
LULA’S CAR WAS GONE, and so was Connie’s. Probably they were at the coffee shop. The bus had stopped rocking, so I figured either the bear had eaten Vinnie or else they were napping. Either way I didn’t want to get involved.
I drove the short distance to the coffee shop and parked behind Lula’s Firebird. The coffee shop was across from the hospital and was classic Starbucks design except it wasn’t a Starbucks. Two leather couches and a coffee table had been positioned in one front window and a bunch of small bistro tables and chairs filled the other window area and ran down the side of the shop. Two women in scrubs were at the counter, ordering lattes. A curly-haired guy was at one of the tables, surfing the net on his laptop, and Lula and Connie had commandeered the couches.
“How was the ride back with the bear?” I asked Lula.
“As far as bears go, he’s pretty polite,” Lula said. “He didn’t growl at me or nothin’, but I don’t want to be around when he gotta go potty.”
“I have some new information on Merlin Brown,” Connie said. “I ran him through the system and turned up a brother-in-law. Lionel Cracker. Lives in the same housing complex as Merlin and works at a deli on upper Stark. It’s about a block down from no-man’s-land, next to Green’s Mortuary.”
“I know where that is,” Lula said. “I used to go to that deli all the time when I was a ho, and I was in the neighborhood. They got the best chili dogs ever made. I could eat those chili dogs ’til I throw up. If we go check this guy out now I could have a dog for lunch.”
• • •
I made a pass through Brown’s parking lot and looked for his car. When I couldn’t find the car I called his home phone. No answer.
“I bet he’s out for lunch,” Lula said. “I bet he’s eating with his brother-in-law.”
For the most part, if you park your car on Stark Street and you don’t keep your eye on it, at least some of it, if not all of it, will be gone when you return. If I had a black Cadillac Escalade, Mercedes SLS AMG, or a Porsche 911 Turbo no one would touch my car for fear I was high up on thegangsta’ food chain, and in that case, stealing my car was a death sentence.
Since I was driving a P.O.S. seen-better-days Ford Escort, I made sure I parked directly in front of the deli.
“I’m gettin’ a chili dog, a kraut dog, and a barbecue dog,” Lula said. “And I might get some curly cheese fries to round it out, so I get some extra vegetable and dairy. I decided I’m improving my diet by gettin’ a balance of shit in my meals. I bet I’ve just about got all the food groups in the meal I’m plannin’.”
“Cracker might not be friendly to us if he knows we shot the toe off
“There’s another body down there. Obviously buried after the fire because the building would have been over the grave site.”
“Any idea who it is?”
“Terry told me that Bobby Lucarelli, Dugan’s lawyer, disappeared at about the same time as Dugan. He’d be on my short list.”
I made an effort not to use my crazy jealous voice. “Terry?”
“Terry Gilman. Lou Dugan was her uncle, and she worked for him a couple years ago. Mostly doing bookkeeping.”
“I bet.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to tell what Terry works at. Not that I care right now. She’s cooperating with the investigation.”
“I bet.”
Morelli grinned down at me. “Are you jealous?”
“I don’t trust her.”
“How about me? Do you trust me?”
I ran the question through my mind.
“Well?” Morelli asked.
“I’m thinking.”
Morelli blew out a sigh.
“Watch what you’re doing with that shovel,” the M.E. yelled to one of the diggers. “I don’t want this guy going in the bag in a million pieces.”
A wave of nausea slid through my stomach. “I’m out of here,” I said. “Will I see you tonight?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be late,” he gave me a quick kiss. “Don’t wait dinner.”
THIRTEEN
LULA’S CAR WAS GONE, and so was Connie’s. Probably they were at the coffee shop. The bus had stopped rocking, so I figured either the bear had eaten Vinnie or else they were napping. Either way I didn’t want to get involved.
I drove the short distance to the coffee shop and parked behind Lula’s Firebird. The coffee shop was across from the hospital and was classic Starbucks design except it wasn’t a Starbucks. Two leather couches and a coffee table had been positioned in one front window and a bunch of small bistro tables and chairs filled the other window area and ran down the side of the shop. Two women in scrubs were at the counter, ordering lattes. A curly-haired guy was at one of the tables, surfing the net on his laptop, and Lula and Connie had commandeered the couches.
“How was the ride back with the bear?” I asked Lula.
“As far as bears go, he’s pretty polite,” Lula said. “He didn’t growl at me or nothin’, but I don’t want to be around when he gotta go potty.”
“I have some new information on Merlin Brown,” Connie said. “I ran him through the system and turned up a brother-in-law. Lionel Cracker. Lives in the same housing complex as Merlin and works at a deli on upper Stark. It’s about a block down from no-man’s-land, next to Green’s Mortuary.”
“I know where that is,” Lula said. “I used to go to that deli all the time when I was a ho, and I was in the neighborhood. They got the best chili dogs ever made. I could eat those chili dogs ’til I throw up. If we go check this guy out now I could have a dog for lunch.”
• • •
I made a pass through Brown’s parking lot and looked for his car. When I couldn’t find the car I called his home phone. No answer.
“I bet he’s out for lunch,” Lula said. “I bet he’s eating with his brother-in-law.”
For the most part, if you park your car on Stark Street and you don’t keep your eye on it, at least some of it, if not all of it, will be gone when you return. If I had a black Cadillac Escalade, Mercedes SLS AMG, or a Porsche 911 Turbo no one would touch my car for fear I was high up on thegangsta’ food chain, and in that case, stealing my car was a death sentence.
Since I was driving a P.O.S. seen-better-days Ford Escort, I made sure I parked directly in front of the deli.
“I’m gettin’ a chili dog, a kraut dog, and a barbecue dog,” Lula said. “And I might get some curly cheese fries to round it out, so I get some extra vegetable and dairy. I decided I’m improving my diet by gettin’ a balance of shit in my meals. I bet I’ve just about got all the food groups in the meal I’m plannin’.”
“Cracker might not be friendly to us if he knows we shot the toe off
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