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“The Mooner always tries to be thoughtful.” He gave me the peace sign and ambled off, down the hall.
I closed the door and reset the alarm. Grandma was still snoring in my bedroom, and Bob hadn't budged from his place by the couch. If the serial murderer showed up in this apartment, I was on my own.
I looked in on Rex and explained to him about the alarm. “Nothing to worry about,” I said. “I know it's loud but at least you were already up and running.” Rex was balanced on his little hamster butt, front legs dangling in front of him, whiskers twitching, parchment thin ears vibrating, black ball-bearing eyes wide open. I dropped a chunk of cracker into his food cup, and he rushed over, shoved it into his cheek pouch, and disappeared into his soup can. Rex knows how to handle a crisis.
I returned to the couch and pulled the quilt up to my chin. No more thoughts about Batman, I told myself. No more peeking under his big rubber codpiece. And no serial killers. And no Joe Morelli since it might be tempting to call him up and beg him to marry me . . . or something.
Then what should I think about? How about Grandma's snoring? It was loud enough to make me hearing-impaired for the rest of my life. I'd put the pillow over my head, but then I might not hear the alarm and the serial killer would come in and cut out my tongue. Oh shit, now I was thinking about the serial killer again!
There was another sound at my door. I tried to see my watch in the dark. It had to be around one A.M. The door clicked open and the alarm sounded. Undoubtedly Ranger. I ran a hand through my hair and checked to be sure the Band-Aid was still in place. I was wearing flannel boxers and a white T-shirt and had a last-minute panic attack that my nipples might be showing through the T-shirt. Rats! I should have thought of this sooner. I hurried to the foyer to silence the alarm but before I reached the door a pair of shears was shoved between the door and the jamb, the shears snipped through the security chain, and the door flew open.
“Hey,” I said to Ranger, “that's cheating!”
But it wasn't Ranger who stepped through the open door. It was Morris Munson. He ripped the alarm off the doorknob and stabbed it with the shears. The alarm gave one last squeak and died. Grandma was still snoring. Bob was still sprawled next to the couch. And Rex was standing at attention, doing his gri
zzly bear impersonation.
“Surprise,” Munson said, closing the door, stepping further into the foyer.
My stun gun, pepper spray, bludgeoning flashlight, and nail file were all in my shoulder bag, which was hanging on a hook, out of reach, behind Munson. My gun was somewhere in the couch, but I really didn't want to use my gun. Guns scare the hell out of me . . . and they kill people. Killing people isn't high on my favorite-things-to-do list.
Probably I should have been happy to see Munson. I mean, I'm supposed to be looking for him, right? And here he is, doing a B & E in my apartment.
“Stop right where you are,” I said. “You're in violation of your bond, and you're under arrest.”
“You ruined my life,” he said. “I did everything for you, and you ruined my life. You took everything. The house, the car, the furniture—”
“That's your ex-wife, you dope! Do I look like your ex-wife?”
“Sort of.”
“Not at all!” Especially since his ex-wife was dead, with tire tracks up her back. “How did you find me?”
“I followed you home one day. You're hard to miss in that Buick.”
“You don't actually think I'm your wife, do you?”
His mouth pulled back into a loopy grin. “No, but if they think I'm really flipped out I can plead insanity. Poor distraught husband goes berserk. I've laid all the groundwork with you. Now all I have to do is carve you up and set you on fire, and I'm home free.”
“You're crazy!”
“See, it's working already.”
“Well, you won't have any luck, because I'm a professional trained in self-defense.”
“Get real. I asked around about you. You're trained in nothing. You used to sell ladies' underpants until you got fired.”
“I wasn't fired. I was laid off.”
“Whatever.” He opened his hand, palm up, to show me he held a switchblade. He pressed the button, and the blade flicked out. “Now, if you just cooperate it won't be so bad. It isn't as if I want to kill you. I thought I'd just stab you a couple times to make it look good. Maybe cut off a nipple.”
“No way!”
“Listen, lady, give me a break, okay? I'm facing a murder charge here.”
“This is stupid. This will never work! Have you talked to a lawyer about this?”
“I can't afford a lawyer! My wife freaking cleaned me out.”
