“Nope.”
“How about the missing male witness? Mrs. Santiago said there was a man with a flattened nose . . .”
“I remember seeing him, but that's about it.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Probably.”
“Do you think there's anyone else in the building who might know more about the missing man?”
“Edleman was the only other person who got a good look at the guy.”
“Is Edleman a tenant here?”
“Edleman was a tenant here. He got hit by a car last week. Right in front of the building. Hit and run.”
My stomach gave a nervous flutter. “You don't suppose Edleman's s death ties in to the Kulesza murder, do you?”
“No way of knowing.”
I thanked Kuzack for his time and took the stairs slowly, enjoying the buzz from his sec
ondary smoke.
It was close to noon, and the day was heating up. I'd gone with a suit and heels this morning, trying to look respectable and trust inspiring. I'd left the windows rolled down when I'd parked in front of Carmen's building, half hoping someone would steal my car. No one had, so I slouched behind the wheel and finished off the Fig Newtons I'd filched from my mom's pantry. I hadn't found out a whole lot from Carmen's neighbors, but at least I hadn't been attacked or fallen down a flight of stairs.
Morelli's apartment was next on my list.
Stephanie Plum 1 - One for the Money
5
I'D CALLED RANGER AND ASKED FOR HELP, since I was too chicken to do breaking and entering on my own. When I pulled into the lot, Ranger was waiting. He was all in black. Sleeveless black T-shirt and black fatigue-type pants. He was leaning against a gleaming black Mercedes that had enough antennae on it to get to Mars. I parked several spaces away so my exhaust wouldn't tarnish his finish.
“Your car?” I asked. As if anyone else could possibly belong to this car.
“Life's been good to me.” His eyes slid to my Nova. “Nice paint job,” he said. “You been on Stark Street?”
“Yes, and they stole my radio.”
“Heh, heh, heh. Good of you to make a contribution to the less fortunate.”
“I'm willing to contribute the entire car, but no one wants it.”
“Just 'cause the dudes be crazy don't mean they be stupid.” He nodded toward Morelli's apartment. “Doesn't seem like anyone's home, so we'll have to do the unguided tour.”
“Is this illegal?”
“Hell no. We got the law, babe. Bounty hunters can do anything. We don't even need a search warrant.” He buckled a black nylon webbed gun belt around his waist and shoved his 9 mm Glock into it. He clipped cuffs onto the gun belt and shrugged into the same loose black jacket he'd worn when I'd met him at the coffee shop. “I don't expect Morelli to be in there,” he said, “but you never know. You always want to be prepared.”
I supposed I should be taking similar precautions, but I couldn't see myself with a gun butt sticking out of my skirt waistband. It'd be an empty gesture anyway, since Morelli knew I didn't have the guts to shoot him.
Ranger and I crossed the lot and walked through the breezeway to Morelli's apartment. Ranger knocked on the door and waited a moment. “Anybody home?” he hollered. No one answered.
“Now what?” I asked. “You going to kick the door in?”
“No way. You could break your foot doing that macho shit.”