“See you back at the ranch,” Morelli said to me, and he was off, too.
The door to Spiro's office was closed. I knocked and waited. No answer. I knocked louder. “Spiro,” I yelled, “I know you're in there!”
Spiro ripped the door open. “Now what?”
“My money.”
“Christ, I have more things to think about than your chickenshit money.”
“Like what?”
“Like crazy Kenny Mancuso setting fire to my goddamn caskets.”
“How do you know it was Kenny?”
“Who else could it be? He's looney tunes, and he's threatening me.”
“You should have told Morelli.”
“Yeah, right. That's all I need. Like I haven't got enough problems, I should have the cops looking up my butt.”
“I've noticed you're not fond of cops.”
“Cops suck.”
I felt breath on the back of my neck and turned to find Louie Moon standing almost on top of me.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I've got to talk to Spiro.”
“Talk,” Spiro said.
“It's about Mr. Loosey. There's been an accident.”
Spiro didn't say a word, but his eyes bore like drill bits into Louie's forehead.
“I had Mr. Loosey on the table,” Louie said, “and I was gonna get him dressed, and then I had to go fix the thermostat, and when I got back to Mr. Loosey I noticed he was missing his . . . um, private part. I don't know how this could happen. One minute it was there, and then the next minute it was gone.”
Spiro knocked Louie aside with a sweep of his hand and charged out, yelling, “Jesus H. Christ and mother fucker.”
Minutes later, Spiro was back in his office, his face mottled, his hands clenched. “I don't fucking believe this,” he roared through clenched teeth. “I leave for half an hour, and someone comes in and hacks off Loosey's dick. You know who that someone was? Kenny, that's who. I leave you in charge, and you let Kenny come in and hack off a dick.”
The phone rang and Spiro snatched at it. “Stiva.”
His lips narrowed, and I knew it was Kenny.
“You're nuts,” Spiro said. “Too much nose candy. Too many of those little tattoos.”
Kenny did some talking, and Spiro cut in.
“Shut up,” Spiro said. “You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. And you don't know what the fuck you're doing when you mess with me. I see you around here, and I'll kill you. And if I don't kill you I'll have Cookie here kill you.”
Cookie? Was he talking about me? “Excuse me,” I said to Spiro, “what was that last part?”
Spiro slammed the phone down. “Fucking jerk.”
I put palms flat on his desk and leaned forward. “I am not a cookie. And I am not a hired gun. And if I was in the protection business I would not protect your slimy body. You are a mold spore, a boil, a dog turd. If you ever tell anyone I will kill them on your behalf again, I'll make sure you sing soprano for the rest of your life.”
Stephanie Plum, master of the empty threat.