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“His profile finally popped out of the system,” Morelli said. “He’s from Chicago. Works as a butcher, but he makes spare change by chopping off fingers and toes of people who annoy the Chicago Mob. Mostly gets off on insufficient evidence, but did some time a couple years ago. I don’t know how he’s connected to Chipotle. I’m assuming it was a contract hit, but we don’t really know.”
“You’re gonna arrest him, right?” Lula said.
“As soon as we find him.”
“Well, what are you doing standing here!” Lula said. “You gotta mobilize or something. Put out one of them APB things. I need all my fingers and toes. I got some Via Spiga sandals that aren’t gonna look right if I only got nine toes. And what about the guy with the gun? Why don’t you got a picture of him?”
“We’re working on it,” Morelli said.
“Working on it, my ass,” Lula said. “I’m gettin’ the runs. I need a doughnut.”
Morelli grabbed my wrist and tugged me to the door. “I need to talk to you alone,” he said, moving me into the hall and down toward the elevator.
“I don’t want to argue about Rangeman,” I told him.
“I don’t care about Rangeman,” Morelli said, his voice cracking with laughter. “I want to know about the guy in the dress. What the heck is that about?”
“Lula exploded the barbecue sauce in my kitchen and didn’t want to clean it up, so she told this cross-dresser he could wear her dress if he scrubbed the sauce off the walls and ceiling.”
“And he spent the night?”
“Lula’s guest.”
“The crime lab got to her apartment first thing this morning. She can change out that door anytime she wants.”
“I’m not sure she’ll go back there. She’s really freaked.”
“From what I can tell, Marco is an animal with a very small brain. He’s dangerous and disgusting but not smart. At the risk of sounding insensitive, Lula is a large target, and anyone else would have killed her by now.”
“So you think she shouldn’t be worried?”
“I think she should be terrified. If this goes on long enough, Marco is going to get lucky, and Lula is going to lose a lot more than a toe.” He punched the elevator button. “Is that Ranger’s Cayenne in your parking lot?”
A small sigh escaped before I could squelch it. “I tried to capture Ernie Dell, but he torched my car and got away. Ranger gave me a loaner.”
The elevator doors opened, and Morelli stepped inside.
“How close are you to catching Marco?” I asked him.
“Not close enough.”
I returned to the apartment and finished my lunch.
“We should have got dessert,” Lula said. “I don’t know what we were thinking about, not getting dessert.”
“You have to stop obsessing about food,” I told her. “You’re going to weigh four hundred pounds.”
“Are you sayin’ I’m fat? Because I think I’m just a big and beautiful woman.”
“You’re still beautiful,” I said. “But I think the big is getting a little bigger.”
“That’s a valid point,” Lula said. She locked on to Larry. “Do you think I’m fat?”
Larry was deer in headlights. He’d already traveled this road. “Well, you’re not too fat,” he said.
“Not too fat for what?” Lula wanted to know.
“For me. For this dress. I’m sure you look much better in this dress than I do.”
