Smokin’ Seventeen(18)

“Do you like this?” he asked.

“Yeessss,” I said, breathless, every muscle in my body clenched.

Morelli kissed me a couple inches below my navel. “It’s about to get better.”





ELEVEN

IT WAS TUESDAY MORNING, and Lula was giving me her full attention. “Okay, let me figure this out,” she said. “From the goofy smile you got on your face, and the fact you’re not walkin’ all that good, I’d say you spent the night with Morelli.”

The bail bonds bus was still parked on Hamilton, and Lula and Connie were in residence. Vinnie and Mooner were absent. I was on the couch with my hand wrapped around a monster Starbucks.

“He’s the one,” I said. “No doubt about it.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t give no one else a chance yet. There could be something better. You’re already judging the bake off, and you haven’t tasted everyone’s cake.”

“I don’t think I could survive anything better.”

“I’m kind of disappointed,” Lula said. “I was looking forward to hearing about the comparisons.”

Not that I would give her comparisons, but I understood wanting to hear them.

“How was your date last night?” I asked her.

“It was a big dud. We went to a movie, and he fell sound asleep, and people were yellin’ at him for snoring. And then the manager came and asked us to leave. And he wouldn’t leave without getting his money back, although I don’t see where it mattered on account of he was sleepin’ through the movie and it wasn’t like he cared about seeing the ending. So the manager called the police, and that was when I left. I don’t want to get involved with no man snores like that anyway. It was like sitting next to a freight train. And it was a pity ’cause I was all set with my boa.”

I looked out the bus window and saw that the crime scene tape was still up and two men in khakis and CSI windbreakers were in the middle of the lot. “What’s going on out there?” I asked Connie.

“I don’t know. They’ve marked off grids and they’re poking around. I guess they want to make sure there aren’t any more bodies. Or maybe they’re collecting evidence. Morelli was here when I came to work and then he left.”

“Did he look happy?” I asked.

“Not especially. He had his work face on. He was with Terry Gilman. They spent a couple minutes talking to the CSI guys, and then they left.”

I felt like all the air got squeezed out of my lungs. Terry Gilman was blond and beautiful and from time to time I’ve suspected Morelli of straying in her direction. Terry Gilman also had mob connections, although just exactly how she was currently connected wasn’t clear.

“I think Gilman was related to Lou Dugan,” Connie said. “Second cousin or something. And I’m pretty sure she worked for him at one time.”

Lula had her nose pressed against the window. “I tell you, if one of those CSI guys turns up another body I’m going home, and I’m not coming back.”

“There isn’t anything for you to file here anyway,” Connie said. “We don’t have any file cabinets, and we don’t have a lot of case files. Business is in the toilet.”

“You’re still paying me, aren’t you? Because I got financial obligations. I got a handbag on layaway that I’m makin’ payments on.”

Vinnie called and Connie put him on speakerphone.

“I’m at the courthouse and I need someone to come pick up a package,” Vinnie said.

“What kind of package?”

“A big package. It won’t fit in my car. I need Mooner to drive the bus here.”

“Mooner’s at an all-day Lord of the Rings movie festival.”

“Then get someone else to drive the damn bus.”

“Who?” Connie asked him.

“Anyone! How hard can it be if Mooner can do it? Just get the bus down here. I haven’t got all day to waste standing around in front of the courthouse.”

“Hell, I’ll drive the bus,” Lula said. “I always wanted to drive a bus.”

I always wanted to fly, but that doesn’t mean I can do it without wings. “Don’t you have to take lessons and get a special license to drive a bus?”

Lula was on her feet, moving to the driver’s seat. “To my way of thinking this here’s a recreational vehicle and you don’t need nothing special to drive it.” She got behind the wheel and looked around. “Let’s see what we got. Gas pedal. Brake. Gear shifter doohickey. And the key’s in the ignition. This is gonna be a piece of cake.”

“Is this bus insured?” I asked Connie.