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“Globovic doesn’t think the police will pay attention to him because Becker called his parents and told them he was fine.”
“What do you think?” Morelli asked me.
“I think there’s something bad going on. Three men are dead and Becker is missing.”
“You realize this isn’t your job, right? You’re not on the payroll to save the world?”
“So then who’s supposed to save the world?”
“Good point,” Morelli said. “For sure not me. I need a bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
Gobbles called while Morelli was away.
“How did it go?” he asked. “Did you find anything in his apartment? I heard you got into the Zeta cellar and the police are there now.”
“His apartment was just as you described it. The aquariums were filled with fleas.”
“That makes sense. We were just starting to build the new models, and we all had flea bites. Pooka said he probably brought them in. That he’d been having flea problems in his apartment. It was the first week of school, and we were having an alum mixer, and Harry Getz was there. So Becker asked Getz to send someone around to get rid of the fleas.”
“Why Getz?” I asked.
“He owns an extermination company. Actually I guess it’s construction, but they do exterminating, too. He was partners with another Zeta alum, Doug Linken, and the company was in the toilet.”
“And did he get rid of the fleas?”
“Yeah. Some guy came and sprayed the cellar.”
“Did Getz ever go into the cellar?”
“Yeah, he came back to check on the fleas and Becker took him down. That was when the three of us had keys. Getz saw that we were building fireworks and didn’t like it. Said it was a fire hazard, and we needed to clean it out. He said he was going to have a talk with Pooka.”
“What day was that?”
“It was the day Getz got shot. He was at Zeta around lunchtime, and he was shot that night. It was a Wednesday, and then Becker disappeared the next day, and Pooka had the locks changed a second time.”
“Do you suppose Pooka shot Getz?”
“Why would he do that? Over fireworks? That’s not a good reason to shoot someone.”
Not if you’re sane.
“I’ll be back in touch,” I said. “Let me know if you hear from Becker.”
“I was hoping he was in the cellar,” Gobbles said. “And alive.”
I disconnected and Morelli came back.
“You look kind of white,” I said to him.
“Just the thought of food has my intestines in a knot.”
“That’s serious.”
“It’s probably some stupid virus.”
The waitress set our food down and Morelli went from white to green.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked him.
