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Ranger extended his hand. “Carlos Manoso,” he said. “I don't believe we've met.”
Anthony shook Ranger's hand. “Anthony Barroni. What can I do for you? Need a plunger?”
Ranger gave him a small cordial smile. “We thought we'd stop by to say hello and see if Spiro liked the pictures.”
“Waddaya mean?”
“It's too bad he couldn't have been there in person,” Ranger said. “So much is lost in a photograph.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure you do,” Ranger said. “You made a bad choice. And you're going to die because of it. You might want to talk to someone while there's still time.”
Someone."
“The police,” Ranger said. “They might be able to cut you a deal.”
“I don't need a deal,” Anthony said.
“He'll turn on you,” Ranger said. “You made a bad choice for a partner.”
“You should talk. Look who you've got for a partner. Little Miss Cry-Her-Eyes-Out.” Anthony rubbed his eyes like he was crying. “Boohoohoo.”
“This is embarrassing,” I said. “I hate when I cry at funerals.”
“Boohooooo.”
“Stop. That's enough,” I said. “It's not funny.”
“Boohoo boohoo boohoo.”
So I punched him. It was one of those bypass-the-brain impulse actions. And it was a real sucker punch. Anthony never saw it coming. He had his hands to his eyes doing the boohoo thing, and I guess I threw all my fear and frustration into the punch. I heard his face crunch under my fist, and blood spurted out of his nose. I was so horrified I froze on the spot.
Ranger gave a bark of laughter and dragged me away so I didn't get splattered.
Anthonys eyes were wide, his mouth open, his hands clapped over his nose.
Ranger shoved a business card into Anthonys shirt pocket. “Call me if you want to talk.”
We left the store and buckled ourselves into the Cayenne. Ranger turned the engine over and slid a glance my way. “I usually spar with Tank. Maybe next time I should get in the ring with you.”
“It was a lucky punch.”
Ranger had the full-on smile and there were little laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. “You're a fun date.”
“Do you really think Spiro and Anthony are partners?”
“I think it's unlikely.”
I left Ranger in the control room and hurried into my cubicle, anxious to finish running the check on Barroni. I came to a skidding stop when I saw my in-box.
Seven new requests for computer background searches. All from Frederick Rodriguez.
I stuck my head out of my cubicle and yelled at Ranger. “Hey, who's this Frederick Rodriguez guy? He keeps filling up my inbox.”
“He's in sales,” Ranger said. “Let them sit. Work on Gorman.”
I finished Barroni, printed his entire file, and dropped it into the drawer with Gorman and Lazar. I entered Jimmy Runion into the first search program and watched as information rushed onto my screen. I'd been scanning the searches as they appeared, taking notes, trying to find the one thing that bound them together in life and probably in death. So far, nothing had jumped out at me. There were a few things that were common to the men, but nothing significant. They were all approximately the same age. They had all owned small businesses. They were all married. When I finished Runion I'd take all the files and read through them more carefully.
