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CHAPTER FOUR
“Sometimes Ranger is a man of too few words,” I said to Bob. “I’m assuming this isn’t a dinner date, but beyond that I haven’t a clue.”
I knew it wasn’t a dinner date because Ranger didn’t date. He seduced. He rescued. He tended to business.
At 7:10 I hooked Bob up to his leash and went downstairs to wait for Ranger. At precisely 7:15 the lights on his black Porsche Cayenne flashed at the entrance to my parking lot and Ranger pulled up in front of me. I opened the back passenger-side door, tossed in a dog biscuit, and Bob jumped into the back seat. I sat next to Ranger.
“Babe,” Ranger said, still idling at the building.
“Morelli had to go on a business trip, and he asked me to take care of Bob.”
Ranger glanced in the rearview mirror at Bob. “Why is he in my car?”
“If I leave him alone in my apartment, he gets bored and he eats things… like my couch. You didn’t say anything about the night’s activities, so I thought it might be okay for Bob to ride along.”
“I want to search Andy Manley’s room, so this afternoon his parents were lucky enough to be chosen at random by the local radio station for dinner for two at Trattoria Romano. Drinks and dessert included. Reservation at seven o’clock. I thought you would want to join me.”
“Absolutely.”
Ranger flicked another glance at Bob. “Is Bob going to be an asset?”
A mental video of Bob running down a bunch of crazed cats flashed through my head. “No,” I said, “Bob wouldn’t be an asset.”
Ten minutes later a black Rangeman Ford Explorer parked next to us. Rodriguez was driving and Hal was riding shotgun.
I handed Bob over to Hal. “Behave yourself,” I said to Bob.
“Don’t worry,” Hal said to me. “We’ll take good care of him. I’ve got two dogs of my own.”
“What kind of dogs do you have?” I asked him.
“Chihuahuas. Mindy and Killer.”
Hal was built like a rhinoceros and was the size of a stegosaurus. He barely fit in the Explorer. Hal walking down the street with a Chihuahua on a leash would stop traffic. It would cause chaos. There would be laughter-induced medical emergencies.
“Chihuahuas are small dogs but they have big personalities,” Hal said.
“That’s so true,” I said.
Ranger put the Porsche in gear and took off.
“I guess you aren’t a dog person,” I said to Ranger.
Ranger cut a sidewise glance at me and turned onto Hamilton Avenue. “I like dogs,” he said. “It’s people I’m not so sure about.”
We parked in front of the Manley house and sat for a couple minutes, making sure the house was vacant. Lights were off. The white Corolla wasn’t visible.
“Let’s do it,” Ranger said.
We got out of the car, walked to the front door, and Ranger took thirty seconds doing something with the lock to get us in. We shut the door and a herd of cats rushed over. They were meowing and rubbing against us, and a large tabby tried to climb up Ranger’s leg.
“This wasn’t in my briefing,” Ranger said.
“Andy’s mom is a foster cat mother for the humane society. And I think she has some of her own.”
“If you get the fat one off my leg, I’ll do something nice for you later tonight.”
Oh boy. I had a pretty good idea what my reward would be.
