“Connie says you're good.”
“There's me, and then there's you, and you aren't ever gonna be as good as me, Sweet Thing.”
At the best of times my patience was lacking, and this wasn't nearly the best of times. “Let me make my position clear to you,” I said, leaning forward. “I'm out of work. I've had my car repossessed, my refrigerator is empty I'm going to get kicked out of my apartment, and my feet don't fit in these shoes. I haven't got a lot of energy to waste socializing. Are you going to help me or what?”
Mañoso grinned. “This is gonna be fun. This here's gonna be like Professor Higgins and Eliza Doolittle Does Trenton.”
“What do I call you?” I asked him.
“My street name. Ranger.”
He reached across the table and took the paperwork I'd brought. He scanned the bond agreement. “You do anything on this yet? You check out his apartment?”
“He wasn't there, but I got lucky and found him in an apartment on State Street. I got there just as he was leaving.”
“And?”
“He left.”
“Shit,” Ranger said. “Didn't anybody tell you that you were supposed to stop him?”
“I asked him to come to the police station with me, but he said he didn't want to.”
Another bark of laughter. “I don't suppose you've got a gun?”
“You think I should get one?”
“Might be a good idea,” he said, still beaming. He finished reading the bond agreement. “Morelli offed a guy named Ziggy Kulesza. Used his personal piece to put a .45 hydroshock between Ziggy's eyes at close range.” Ranger glanced up at me. “You know anything about guns?”
“I know I don't like them.”
“A .45 hydroshock goes in nice and neat, but when it comes out it makes a hole the size of a potato. You end up with brains all over the place. Ziggy's head probably exploded like an egg in a microwave.”
“Gee, I'm glad you shared that with me.”
His smile lit up the room. “I figured you'd want to know.” He tipped back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You know any of the background on this case?”
"According to newspaper articles Morty Beyers clipped to the bond agreement, the shooting took place late at night a little over a month ago in an apartment building on Shaw. Morelli was off duty and had gone to visit Carmen Sanchez. Morelli claimed Carmen had called him concerning a police matter, that he'd responded, and that when he got to Carmen's apartment, Ziggy Kulesza answered the door and drew on him. Morelli claimed he shot Ziggy in self-defense.
"Carmen's neighbors told a different story. Several of them rushed into the hall at the sound of gunfire and found Morelli standing over Kulesza with a smoking gun. One of the tenants subdued Morelli until the police arrived. None of the tenants could remember seeing a gun in Ziggy's hand, and the immediate investigation didn't turn up any evidence that Ziggy had been armed.
“Morelli had placed a second man in Carmen's apartment at the time of the shooting, and three of the tenants remembered seeing an unfamiliar face, but the man apparently disappeared before the police came on the scene.”
“And what about Carmen?” Ranger asked.
“No one could remember seeing Carmen. The last article was written a week after the shooting, and as of that date, Carmen still hadn't surfaced.”
Ranger nodded. “You know anything else?”
“That's about it.”
“The guy Morelli shot worked for Benito Ramirez. The name mean anything?”
“Ramirez is a boxer.”
“More than a boxer. He's a fucking wonder. Heavyweight. The biggest thing to happen to Trenton since George shafted the Hessians. Trains in a gym on Stark Street. Ziggy used to stick to Ramirez like white on rice. Sometimes Ziggy'd do some sparring. Mostly Ramirez kept him on as a gofer and a bodyguard.”
“There any word on the street about why Morelli shot Kulesza?”