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“I couldn’t help noticing you have a nice big SUV,” Mrs. Manley said. “I could really use a ride to the vet clinic tomorrow afternoon. Iris, Snuggles, Red Cat, and Mr. Meow Meow are supposed to get shots, and our only car got blown up.”
When she got to the part about the car getting blown up, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away and pulled herself together.
Getting sucker punched in the face had been less painful than the prospect of taking a car full of cats to the vet. I’d made the offer of help because that’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to say, but it had been completely insincere.
“Sure,” I said. “No problem. What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“One o’clock.”
I called Ranger on my way back to the office. “Have you learned any more about the Manley car bombing?” I asked him.
“The house across the street has a Ring doorbell and it captured someone dressed in black. Black hoodie, black COVID mask. Black slacks. The doorbell angle wasn’t great, but it shows the figure approach the Manleys’ Corolla at the appropriate time.Appears to be a man. If he came in a car, it’s out of the frame, and it doesn’t drive past the Ring camera before or after the man shows up. He disappears behind the Corolla and then reappears and leaves.”
“Does this man look like one of the people who snatched Dugan out of the hospital?”
“It’s possible but there’s no point of reference on size. My gut tells me no.”
Ranger’s instincts were flawless. If his gut said no, then I was on board with no.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked.
“I have a dinner meeting tonight with a new client. Are you free to have dinner with us?”
“Omigod, are you asking me out on a date?”
“I’m asking you to join us for dinner. What we do after dinner will be up to you.”
“Can I bring Bob?”
“Babe,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.
A beat later I got a text message.I’ll pick you up at six thirty. No Bob.
Morelli called at six o’clock. “Just checking in,” he said. “I’m going out for burgers with Ed Mallow in a couple minutes. He got sent down here with me.”
“Do I know him?”
“He’s FBI. Trenton office. Short bald guy. I think you ran into him when you went after the truckers who were doing human trafficking.”
“Have you testified yet?”
“No. This thing is going to drag out. How are you doing? Did you find Nutsy?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you working with Ranger?”
“Maybe a little.”
“What’s a little? What does that involve?”
“He wanted to snoop around Duncan Dugan’s row house, and I had a legal reason to enter.”
“Did he find anything?”
“Nope.”
“You know the deal with the bag of jewelry, right?”
