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“That's because I haven't.”
“I could talk to Morelli.”
“It's not Morelli. It's my grandmother. She's moved in with me, and she snores.” Not to mention I had the Mooner in my life. And madmen. And Ranger.
“So let me get this straight. You're living with your granny and with Simon's dog?”
“Yeah.”
Costanza grinned. “Hey, Juniak,” he yelled, “wait'll you hear this.” He looked back to me. “No wonder Morelli's been in such a foul mood.”
“Tell Simon I was looking for him.”
“You can count on it,” Costanza said.
I left the police station and drove to the office and went in with Lula so I could bask in my bounty-hunter excellence. Lula and I had captured our man. It was a big capture, too. A homicidal maniac. Well okay, maybe it hadn't been an entirely flawless operation, but hey, we got him.
I slapped the body receipt down on Connie's desk. “Are we good, or what?” I said.
Vinnie popped his head out of his office. “Did I just hear news of an apprehension?”
“Morris Munson,” Connie said. “Signed, sealed, and delivered.”
Vinnie rocked back on his heels, hands in pants pockets, smile stretching the width of his face. “Lovely.”
“He didn't even set either of us on fire this time,” Lula said. “We were good. We hauled his ass off to the clink.”
Connie eyeballed Lula. “Do you know you're all wet?”
“Yeah. Well, we rousted the jerk out of the shower.”
Vinnie's eyebrows shot up into his forehead. “Are you telling me you arrested him naked?”
“It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for him running out of the house and down the street,” Lula said.
Vinnie shook his head, the smile broader than ever. “I love this job.”
Connie gave me my fee; I gave Lula her share and went home to change.
Grandma was still there, getting ready for her driving lesson. She was dressed in her purple warm-up suit, platform sneakers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt that had “Eat My Shorts” written across the chest. “I met a man in the elevator today,” she said. “And I'm taking him to dinner with us tonight.”
“What's his name?”
“Myron Landowsky. He's an old fart, but I figure I have to start somewhere.” She took her purse off the counter, tucked it into the crook of her arm, and gave Bob a pat on the head. “Bob's been a good boy today, except for eating that roll of toilet paper. Oh yeah, and I was hoping we could ride over with you and Joseph. Myron don't drive after dark, on account of his night vision is shot.”
“No problem.”
I made myself a fried-egg sandwich for lunch, changed my jeans, brushed my hair into a half-assed ponytail, and plastered a ton of concealer over my pimple. I gunked up my lashes with mascara and stared at myself in the mirror. Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie, I said. What are you doing?
I was working myself up to going back to the shore, that's what I was doing. I was having brain pain that I'd screwed up my opportunity to talk to Alexander Ramos. I'd sat across the table from him like a big doofus yesterday. We were doing surveillance on the Ramos family, and when I got unexpectedly let into the chicken coop I didn't ask the rooster a single question. I was sure Ranger's advice was sound, that I should stay away from Alexander Ramos, but it felt wimpy not to go back and try to take better advantage of the situation.
I grabbed my jacket and clipped the leash onto Bob's collar. I stopped in the kitchen to say good-bye to Rex and to put my gun back into the cookie jar. I didn't think it'd be a good idea to be packing while I chauffeured Alexander Ramos around. It'd be hard to explain the gun if I got patted down by Ramos or his babysitters.
Joyce Barnhardt was parked in my lot when I came down. “Nice pizza face,” she said.
I guessed the concealer wasn't totally effective. “You want something?”
“You know what I want.”
