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Morelli dragged me up against him and kissed me.
“Was that a lot of a kiss?” I asked.
“Not as a lot as I’d like it to be.”
I watched Morelli walk down the hall, and I closed and locked my door. Moving on to the next activity, I thought. Dinner with Ranger.
Ranger let himself into my apartment a little before seven o’clock. He was wearing black slacks, a black blazer, and a black dress shirt. He was perfectly tailored and pressed, and the cut of his blazer hid the black Glock at the small of his back.
I was pretty much matching in a black skirt, white silky blouse, and black jacket.
“I was told you picked your dress up from the bridal salon,” Ranger said.
“I thought you’d want to know.”
He smiled at me. “It made my day.”
Ranger doesn’t smile all that often so it’s always either really wonderful or stone cold scary. This smile was a mixture of both.
I had a little black leather purse hanging from my shoulder. Ranger hooked his finger under the strap, tested the weight, and returned it to my shoulder. It was heavy enough to hold the Ruger.
I told Rex and Tiki I’d be back in a little while. I got to the door and hesitated.
“They’ll be fine,” Ranger said. “He’s not going to hit your apartment again. He’s already done that. Orin is going to kick i t up a notch. He was the kind of guy who tortured bugs, pulling their legs and wings off one at a time. It was like foreplay for Orin, leading up to the kill. We were all thrill junkies but Orin was pathological. He got his thrills from the fear and suffering of his victims. He liked the kill but it was almost anticlimactic for him.”
“Are you sure it’s Orin?”
“Yes. He left a message on my phone this morning. I recognized his voice. He said it was time for him to come out of the shadows. He laughed his crazy Orin laugh, and he said I would see him soon.”
“Did he say why he wasn’t dead?”
“No. It wasn’t part of the message.”
“Do you want to tell me the rest of the message?”
“You’d rather not know.”
I was sure this was true. I didn’t even want to know what I already knew. I could have done without the whole ripping-wings-off analogy.
“Did he say why he was doing this now?”
“Only that the road here wasn’t easy but he’d finally made it.”
“Was he this crazy when you were serving together?”
“There were signs. Orin was a good man to have on your side and a very bad enemy. We all slept with one eye open, not just for whatever was out there but for Orin.”
“The life you have now must seem tame compared to that.”
“It has its moments. I had to talk to the bridal salon lady twice today.”
He had his hand at my back, guiding me down the hall to the elevator and out of the building to his Porsche 911 Turbo. I suspected the car was brand-new. Hard to tell since it was identical to the last one, but its paint was unmarred, and it was lacking the aroma of horked-up cocktail wieners and meatballs.
TWENTY-TWO
THE CHURCH WASN’T far. It was in the Burg, and it was the Catholic church where I’d made my First Communion. It was the church where my family worshiped and I was supposed to worship. I went to Christmas mass and I was there for weddings and funerals but true faith was elusive for me. Catholic guilt was a constant. I made the sign of the cross and watched Ranger. He was comfortable here. He knew the rituals. He was raised Catholic just as I was.
“Do you attend mass?” I asked him.
