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I went to the bar and the bartender came over.
“You again,” he said.
I nodded. “Nice to see you, too. Guess who I’m looking for?”
“Someone alive?”
“Yes.”
“That eliminates a bunch of people.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I know where he isn’t. He isn’t here.”
“Suppose I wanted to talk to him. Where would I find him?”
“I’m a bartender. I don’t know these things. Are you going to order, or what?”
“Is anyone in the back room?”
“No. They’re all out extorting money and killing people.”
“Do you know when they’ll stop by?”
“When they get hungry.”
I returned to Lula and Potts, and Morelli called.
“Someone just dumped two bodies behind the bail bonds office,” he said. “One of them has a broken leg. I thought you might want to take a look at this.”
“Are they dead?”
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“Yes.”
“I don’t want to look.”
“Let me state this another way. I’m the principal on this and I suspect you have information I would want.”
“Why would you suspect that?”
“You called a hit-and-run in this morning for two men, one of them having a broken leg. One of these men has a broken leg plus tire tracks on his trousers.”
Crap.
“I’m out with Lula. I’m about a half hour away.”
“I’m not going anywhere. This is going to take a while. I’m waiting for the photographer and the medical examiner.”
“I need to go to a crime scene,” I said to Lula. “Take me back to the Buick.”
* * *
Potts and I transferred over to the Buick and waved adios to Lula. I dropped Potts off at his parents’ house and drove to the bail bonds office. Morelli was standing inside the yellow tape when I got there. He motioned me over, and I ducked under the tape.
“Sorry I had to make you do this,” he said. “I need the backstory. They aren’t carrying any ID.”
