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“Someone stole your car,” I told him.
“We’re on it. Do you need a ride?”
“Definitely. And Lula’s with me.”
Ten minutes later Ranger pulled to the curb. I was drenched, I had two blood-soaked tissues stuck up my nose, my eyes were swollen almost shut, and my clothes and arms were streaked with rain-washed bloodstains. Ranger got out of his black Cayenne, and I saw the set of his mouth go grim.
“Babe,” he said.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I told him. “I just broke my nose.”
We drove in silence to the emergency clinic. I had my head tipped back, trying to stanch the blood flow, and Lula was in the backseat, trying to fluff her Marilyn wig.
Ranger checked me in at the clinic and called for one of his men to take Lula back to her car. I got an incredibly painful shot of Novocaine, had my nose realigned and taped, had a dry bandage put on my broken finger, and was sent home with cold packs.
“So you did this to yourself?” Ranger asked.
“I shot off a monster gun, and it kicked back into my face.”
“And the other guy?”
“I shot his ear off.”
Ranger grinned.
“Unfortunately he got away.”
Ranger took me home and walked me to my door. “The guy with one ear is probably going to come after you,” he said. “Be careful.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
I hadn’t identified myself at the apartment, and with luck Antwan didn’t know who I was or where to find me.
Morelli showed up at seven o’clock with Bob, a pizza box, a six-pack, and a bag from the drugstore. He looked at me and went pale.
“It’s just a broken nose,” I said, squinting at him through eyes that were reduced to slits in a face that looked like a Tequila Sunrise gone wrong.
“What happened?”
“Do you want the long version or the short version?”
“I want the long version.”
I gave him the long version while we ate pizza and drank beer.
“At the risk of being insensitive… you’re a disaster,” Morelli said.
“No offense taken. You’re right. I’m a disaster. I’m thinking about getting a different job.”
Morelli set the pizza box out for the trash and got the ice cream from the freezer. “The world will be relieved to hear that.” He got two bowls from the cupboard. “Do you have any good possibilities?”
“Possibilities? Yes. Good possibilities? No.”
We ate ice cream in front of the television, and then Morelli watched a showing of The Godfather, and I sat next to him with cold packs over my eyes.
“I hope I look okay by tomorrow,” I told him. “I have things to do.”
“Cupcake, you’re going to look like a train wreck tomorrow.”
