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“Globovic asked me to meet him here at ten o’clock. He said he wanted to talk.”
“Was he here?”
“If he was, I didn’t see him. We were walking toward the back of the building, in the dark, and Lula tripped over Mintner.”
Morelli popped a couple pills into his mouth.
“Breath mints?” I asked him.
“Stomach issues.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s all your fault,” he said.
“Jeez.”
He grinned and hugged me into him. “I was kidding. It’s not all your fault. It’s only partly your fault.”
“Boy, that makes me feel a lot better. I don’t have any more to contribute here. Will anyone mind if I get Gazarra to take me home?”
“No one will mind.”
I sat in the front with Gazarra so no one would call my mother and tell her I’d been arrested.
“What’s with Morelli?” I asked Gazarra. “Is something wrong at work?”
“This is Trenton. Work is never good.”
“Then why do you stay?”
“I want my pension.”
“That’s years away.”
“Yeah, but it’s something to look forward to.”
“Why has Morelli stayed?”
“He’s the job. He believes in it. He’s good at it.”
“He seems to be taking more antacids than usual.”
“I noticed. I don’t know what the deal is with that.”
“He hasn’t said anything to you?”
“Morelli’s never been a big talker, but he’s more distant than usual these days. And he’s been taking time off. I figured if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you.”
“He broke up with me.”
“Wow. I didn’t know.”
Gazarra idled at the back door of my building. “Are you freaked out by the shooting?” he asked. “Do you want me to see you inside?”
“Thanks, but it’s not necessary. I’m used to being freaked out.”
“One of the many perks of law enforcement.”
