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He gave me the keys to his SUV. “I’m behind the EMT truck. Wait there while I poke around. I’ll get back to you.” He looked at Briggs. “Do you need medical help?”
Briggs shook his head, and some small chunks of plaster fell out of his hair. “I’m okay, but I wouldn’t mind you looking around for my shoe if you get into the apartment.”
Morelli left, and Ranger called.
“I’m fine,” I told him. “Briggs was in the apartment when it happened, and he carried Rex out.”
“I’ve got Hal on the scene if you need him. He said Morelli’s there so he’s hanging back.”
“How do you know all this without your control room?”
“We’re functioning offsite.”
An hour later the fire trucks and EMTs started pulling out of my lot. The fire marshal was on the scene. The gawkers were dribbling away, going back to their houses, and most of the people in my building were allowed to return to their apartments.
Morelli returned to the SUV and handed Briggs his shoe.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“I’ve seen worse,” Morelli said. “You were lucky it missed the window and hit the wall. Your living room is destroyed, but the rest of the apartment is intact. Mostly what you’ve got is smoke damage and water damage. Your super went in immediately with commercial fire extinguishers and minimized the fire. He said he keeps them in the utility closet next to your apartment.”
“How soon can I get in?”
“If the investigators don’t find any structural damage, you should be able to get in this afternoon, but you’re not going to be living here for at least a week or two. Maybe longer.”
So my plan to use Briggs as bait had worked … but not in a good way.
“I’m staying here,” Morelli said. “This is part of the Poletti investigation. If you want to take off, I’ll call you when you can go in.”
Briggs put his shoe on, and we walked to the edge of the lot, where the Buick was parked. My plan was to go to my parents’ house and drop Rex off. If my father wasn’t home, Grandma and my mother might let Briggs into the house long enough for us to regroup.
“Holy Hannah,” Grandma said when she saw Briggs. “What happened to him? Did your father catch up to him?”
“Someone shot a rocket-propelled firebomb into my apartment,” I said.
“Again?” Grandma asked.
“Yeah, I was hoping I could leave Rex here.” I peeked into the house. “Is my father home?”
“He’s in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. And he’s still complaining about the cake. You might not want to go in there with the little guy.”
I handed Rex over and went back to the car with Briggs.
“You’re going to have to find a place to live,” I told him. “I’m going to move home with my parents until my apartment gets fixed, and you can’t stay there.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Go anywhere. Mooch off friends or relatives. Move into a motel.”
“Poletti will find me.”
I put the car in gear and drove away from the curb. “He found you in my apartment, and now it’s got a big hole in it!”
“What about using me as bait?”
“Been there and done that.”
“Boy, this is the thanks I get for saving your rat.”
