Takedown Twenty(6)

“Felon. Not fella. Felon. A fugitive from the law.”

“Watch your mouth,” Shorty said. “You don’t go around calling good people like Sunny names that could tarnish his reputation. He could sue you for slandering him.”

“So do you know where he is?” I asked.

“Sure. He’s where he always is at this time of the day.”

“And where would that be?”

“I’m not telling you. And you better back off, girlie, or I might have to get rough. I might have to shoot you or something.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Lula said. “You and who else gonna do that, Shorty?”

“Me and him,” Shorty said, gesturing to the guy next to him. “Me and Moe. Isn’t that right, Moe?”

“Yeah,” Moe said. “We don’t like people trash-talking Sunny.”

“And furthermore I don’t like the way you said my name,” Shorty said to Lula. “It was like you were implying I was short.”

“You are short,” Lula said. “You’re short. You’re going bald. And unless you just come from a bowling alley, you got no taste in clothes.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you should talk,” Shorty said. “You’re fat.”

Lula narrowed her eyes, rammed her fists onto her hips, and leaned forward so that she was almost nose to nose with Shorty. “Say what? Did I just hear that you think I’m fat? ’Cause that better not be the case on account of then I’d have to pound you into something looks like a hamburger pattie.”

I glanced left and saw the giraffe gallop across the street a couple blocks away. “Holy cow,” I said. “It’s the giraffe.”

Lula whipped her head around. “Where’d he go? I don’t see no giraffe.”

“He galloped across the street at Eighteenth.”

“Gotta go,” Lula said to Shorty. “Things to do.”

We jumped into Lula’s car, took off down the street, turned the corner at Eighteenth and cruised around, but we didn’t see the giraffe.

“This is perplexing,” Lula said. “It’s not like he could get himself in a Subaru and drive away. I bet you couldn’t even get him in a Escalade. He’s a big sucker.”

Morelli called on my cellphone. “Hey, Cupcake,” he said. “What’s doing?”

“Nothing’s doing,” I told him. “My boyfriend is a workaholic.”

“I’ve got fifteen minutes free. Do you want to… you know?”

“Wow, fifteen whole minutes.”

“Yeah, that’s a minute for me and fourteen for you.”

“Tempting, but I’m going to hold out for at least a half hour.”

“I could throw lunch into the deal if you’re up to multitasking.”

“I’ll meet you at Pino’s for lunch, but you’re going to have to take a rain check on the… you know.”

“Better than nothing,” Morelli said. “High noon.”



Morelli was already at Pino’s when I walked in. He had a corner booth, and he was working his way through a bread basket. He was wearing jeans and an untucked black T-shirt that partially hid the Glock at his hip. His dark hair waved over his ears, and his brown eyes were sharp and assessing.

I slid into the booth across from him. “You have cop eyes,” I said.

He pushed the bread basket my way. “That could change if you wanted to have lunch in the parking lot. Between the gunshot and the double shift I’m missing you… a lot.”

“I miss you too.”

I took a piece of bread and studied him. I’ve known Morelli for most of my life, and I was pretty good at reading his moods.

“There’s more,” I said.

Morelli nodded. “There’s Ralph Rogers.”

“The guy with the dart stuck in his butt. What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

“He was alive last time I saw him.”

“He went into cardiac arrest at the hospital and they couldn’t revive him. Apparently the dart contained some exotic kind of poison. And it contained a lot of it.”

“Enough to take down a giraffe?”

“The toxicology report didn’t cover that.”

“Shocking.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking, but why the interest in giraffes?”

“Lula and I were following a giraffe when we found Rogers lying in the road.”

“This isn’t a substance abuse issue, is it?”

“No. We really saw a giraffe. Lula was conducting some business with Jimmy Spit, and we saw a giraffe gallop past us and turn at Sixteenth Street. A black Cadillac Escalade with a satellite dish on its roof drove by seconds later, turned at Sixteenth, and there was gunfire. By the time we got to Sixteenth there was no giraffe and no Escalade. And Rogers was lying facedown in the middle of the road.”