“See if it matches up to what's left of George Mayer's stump. And while I'm doing that I thought I'd subtly ask Spiro what the hell is going on.”
“I don't think that's a good idea. He doesn't want the police involved. Wouldn't report the mutilation or the note. If you go barging in there he's going to kick me out of the loop.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Give me the finger. I'll take it back to Spiro tomorrow. See if I can learn anything interesting.”
“I can't let you do that.”
“The hell you can't! It's my finger, dammit. It was in my coat.”
“Give me a break. I'm a cop. I have a job to do.”
“I'm a bounty hunter. I have a job to do too.”
“Okay, I'll give you the finger, but you have to promise to keep me informed. The first hint I get that you're holding out on me I'll pull the plug.”
“Good. Now give me the finger, and go home before you change your mind.”
He took the plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and plunked it into my freezer. “Just in case,” he said.
When Morelli left I locked the door and checked on the windows. I looked under the bed and in all the closets. When I was confident my apartment was secure I went to bed and slept like a rock, with all the lights blazing.
The phone rang at seven. I squinted at the clock and then at the phone. There is no such thing as a good call at 7 A.M. It's been my experience that all calls between the hours of 11 P.M. and 9 A.M. are disaster calls.
“ 'Lo,” I said into the phone. “What's wrong?”
Morelli's voice came back at me. “Nothing's wrong. Not yet anyway.”
“It's seven o'clock. Why are you calling me at seven o'clock?”
“Your curtains are closed. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“My curtains are closed because I'm still in bed. How do you know my curtains are closed?”
“I'm in your parking lot.”
Stephanie Plum 2 - Two For The Dough
9
I dragged myself out of bed, pulled the curtain aside, and looked down into the lot. Sure enough, the tan Fairlane was parked next to Uncle Sandor's Buick. I could see the bumper still in Morelli's backseat, and someone had spray-painted PIG on his driver's-side door. I opened my bedroom window and stuck my head out. “Go away.”
“I have a staff meeting in fifteen minutes,” Morelli yelled up. “Shouldn't take more than an hour, and then I'll be free for the rest of the day. I want you to wait for me to get back before you go to Stiva's.”
“No problem.”
By the time Morelli got back to me it was nine-thirty, and I was feeling restless. I was watching at the window when he pulled into the lot, and I was out of the building like a flash with the finger rolling around in my pocketbook. I was wearing my Doc Martens in case I had to kick someone, and I'd attached the pepper spray to my belt for instant access. I had my stun gun fully charged and stuffed into my jacket pocket.
“In a hurry?” Morelli asked.
“George Mayer's finger is making me nervous. I'll feel a lot better when it's back home with George.”
“If you need to talk to me just give me a call,” Morelli said. “You have my car phone number?”
“Committed to memory.”
“My pager?”