“No, but thanks for offering.”
* * * * *
SALLY AND I strained our eyes and ears all the way to Morelli's neighborhood. Unlike Lula, who never admitted to being scared, Sally and I were perfectly comfortable with the knowledge that Sugar had us ready to jump out of our skin.
W
e stopped at the corner of Morelli's block and looked things over. There were cars on either side of the street. No vans. Morelli's truck was parked, so I guessed Morelli was home. Shades were still drawn, and the lights were on. I assumed there was someone watching the outside of the house, but I couldn't pick him out.
This was a nice neighborhood. Similar to my parents'. Not as prosperous. Houses were mostly occupied by seniors who'd lived there all their adult lives or by young couples just starting out. The seniors were on fixed incomes, clipping coupons, buying tennis shoes on sale at Kmart, doing only the most essential house maintenance, thankful their mortgages were paid and they could stay in their homes for taxes. The young couples painted and papered and filled their houses with furniture from Sears. And they marked time while they built equity and hoped their properties would appreciate, so they could buy bigger tract houses in Hamilton Township.
I turned to Sally. “Do you think Sugar will come here looking for you?”
“If he doesn't come for me, he'll come for you. He was fucking flipped out.”
We walked to the middle of the block and stared across the street at Morelli's house. A shoe scuffed on the stoop behind us, and a figure slid from deep shadow. Morelli.
“Out for a stroll?” he asked.
I looked beyond him at the bike parked on the small yard. “Is that a Ducati?”
“Yeah. I don't get to ride it much.”
I moved closer. It was the 916 Superbike. Red. The motorcycle to die for. Smart choice for tailing someone who'd just firebombed your house. Faster and better maneuverability than a car. I found myself liking Morelli more now that I knew he owned a Duc.
“You out here alone?” I asked.
“For now. Roice is coming on at two.”
“I guess they weren't able to pick Sugar up.”
“We're looking for the car, but so far it's a big zero.”
Headlights appeared at the end of the street, and we all shrank back against the house. The car rolled past us and turned two blocks down. We eased forward, out of hiding.
“Sugar have friends outside of the band?” Morelli asked Sally.
“Lots of casual friends. Not many close ones. When I first joined the band, Sugar had a lover.”
“Would Sugar go to him for help?”
“Not likely. It wasn't a happy parting.”
“How about the band? You have anything scheduled?”
“Rehearsal on Friday. Club date on Saturday.”
That seemed like a millennium away. And Sugar would have to be a fool to show up. It had been stupid of him to attack Morelli. Cops get touchy when someone drops a firebomb in a fellow officer's house.
“Get in touch with the other band members,” Morelli said to Sally. “Let them know you're staying with Stephanie and me. Ask if they've seen Sugar.”
I looked over at Morelli. “You'll call me if anything happens?”
“Sure.”
“You have my pager number?”
“Committed to memory.”