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Lula took a second brownie and went back to patrol the sidewalk.
“If she keeps eating brownies, we’re going to have to take her keys away,” Connie said. “I don’t know exactly what’s in Mooner’s brownies, but my guess is they’re at least sixty percent controlled substance.”
“I’m surprised Sunflower wouldn’t take what you offered for Vinnie.”
“He was in a vicious mood. He said we were lucky he was holding at a million three. And we have until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Did you discuss how the trade-off was going to work?”
“No. He didn’t want to talk. He was really cranky. He gave me his demand and hung up on me.”
“Guess things aren’t going good in Sunflower Land.”
Lula pushed her way back to us.
“Watch out. Comin’ through. Outta my way,” she was saying. “I just sold all our guns,” she said to Connie. “We got any more?”
“No, that was it,” Connie said. “I saved the good stuff for our personal use. I have them locked down in the back room.”
“Too bad,” Lula said. “There’s a couple guys buying up everything. I sold them a case of cuffs Vinnie got at that fire sale. And they bought the box of dynamite that got wet when the roof leaked in January.”
“Local guys?”
“Nope. They were from Idaho. They said they were part of some militia, here on a recruiting drive.”
“Uh-oh,” Connie said, looking past me. “Morelli’s at the door, and he doesn’t look happy.”
“Probably, he wanted some of them guns,” Lula said. “That’s what happens when you don’t get here early. You miss out on all the best stuff.”
Morelli made his way back to us and clamped a hand around my wrist. “We need to talk.”
“Howdy,” Lula said. “You’re lookin’ fine today, Officer Morelli.”
Morelli made a half-hearted attempt not to smile. “You’re going to have to cut her off from the brownies,” he said to Connie.
“I’d chain her to the street light, but she sold all my handcuffs,” Connie said.
Morelli pulled me past the file cabinets to the back door.
“What the hell’s going on?” he said. “I was driving by on my way to the station, and I saw a couple neo-Nazis loading guns into the back of their van.”
“They were neo-Nazis?”
“And there’s a line halfway down the block to buy Mooner’s brownies. I don’t suppose you checked the ingredients?”
“Chocolate, eggs, flour . . .” I said.
“There’s not a person in that line who’ll be able to pass a drug test.”
He leaned close to me, nuzzling my neck, his lips brushing my ear. “You smell nice again.”
“You, too. You smell like . . . brownie!”
Morelli grinned down at me. “I don’t know where he’s getting it, but he’s got some really good shit in those brownies.”
“Are you going to shut him down?”
“No. By the time I get back to him, he’ll have sold out, and the problem will be solved.”
