It was almost nine-thirty when I staggered into my apartment, got a cold beer from the fridge, and held it against my eyes.
“Have a tough day?” Morelli asked, strolling into the kitchen, followed by Bob.
“Unh.”
I’d seen his car parked in the lot when I pulled in, so I wasn’t surprised to find him in my apartment. He had a key. And even without the key he could get past a lock.
Bob sniffed me up and down and licked my shoe.
“You smell like bacon,” Morelli said to me. “I think I’m getting turned on.”
“It’s roast pig. It’s in my hair. I can’t get away from it.”
“What’s Bob eating on your shoe?”
“Barbecue sauce.”
“Did you just capture a cook?”
“No. I quit my job at the bonds office, and I took a job at Berger’s Bits.”
“The butcher shop?”
“You know how some men have wet dreams? Randy Berger has pig dreams.”
Morelli burst out laughing. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m a butcher.”
“Cupcake, you go green walking past the chicken parts in the supermarket.”
“This is right up there for the worst day of my life.”
“You’ve had some pretty bad days. Remember when you fell off the fire escape into the dog diarrhea?”
“This was worse.”
“Wow.”
I took the beer bottle off my eye and drank the beer. “I need a shower.”
“Do you need help?”
“No. I need food. Something vegetarian.”
“A salad?”
“A pizza. Hold the pepperoni and sausage.”
I was working my way through my second beer and third piece of pizza, and I was beginning to feel human.
“How’s your nose?” Morelli asked.
“It’s good. I can breathe through it, and it doesn’t hurt if I don’t touch it.”
“Are you going to keep the butcher job?”
“At least for a couple more days. Randy Berger has moved to the top of my list for murder suspects. He knew all the women. He’s big enough and strong enough to pitch someone into a Dumpster. And he’s scary.”
“How is he scary?”
“He worships meat. His eyes get glittery and crazy when he talks about it.”
“All meat?”
“Mostly pork.”
“It’s a guy thing,” Morelli said. “Any normal, red-blooded guy is going to go a little gonzo talking about pig products. All the best food in the world comes from a pig. Hot dogs, bacon, ribs, pulled pork, pork roast, pork chops, ham, Taylor pork roll.”
“He was roasting a whole pig. It was massive. And he had its ears wrapped in aluminum foil.”
“That’s so they don’t burn.”
“You know about this?”
“I can find my way around a smoker.”
“So you don’t think Randy Berger killed the women.”
“I didn’t say that. I said he’s not crazy just because he gets a little sloppy over pork.”
“What’s your best guess for the killer?”
“I don’t have a best guess,” Morelli said. “What we believe is that he’s local. And the women knew him. He’s neat. Doesn’t like a messy crime scene. Has some ego. Likes to leave a calling card. Feels safe. Maybe feels like he’s above the law. Beyond that we don’t know much.”
“What about the bank accounts?”
“The bank accounts have for the most part been explained away. One account was moved to another bank. One account was cleaned out to buy a cruise ticket that was never used.”
“Your profile doesn’t entirely fit Randy Berger. He probably wouldn’t choose a Venetian blind cord as his instrument of death. He wouldn’t care about neat. He’d be more comfortable with a cleaver.”
“And what about motive?” Morelli asked. “What’s his motive?”
“Fun?”
“It sounds to me like you quit working for Vinnie but you’re still working for Ranger,” Morelli said.
“I can’t bring myself to walk away from those women. And I think it’s odd that four women have been killed and left in a Dumpster and no one saw anything. It’s like the giraffe. There’s a giraffe hanging out on Fifteenth Street and no one’s reported it. What’s with that?”
“It’s a mystery,” Morelli said, sliding his arm around me and leaning close. “You don’t smell like barbecue anymore, but I like you anyway. Maybe we should take some of those items I bought at the drugstore for a test drive.”
“If you touch my nose I’ll make you incapable of fathering a child.”