“Terry Gilman.”
“Yeah?”
“That's it. That's your entire clue, you creep.”
Morelli got two mugs from the over-?the-?counter cabinet and filled the mugs with coffee. He added milk and handed one of the mugs to me. “I need more to go on than a name.”
“No you don't. You know exactly what I'm talking about.”
His pager went off, and he did some creative swearing. He looked at the read-?out and made a call on my phone. “I have to leave,” he said. “I'd like to stay and settle this, but something's come up.”
He got to the door and turned and came back. “I almost forgot. Have you seen Ramirez?”
“Yes. And I want to get a restraining order and have his parole revoked.”
“His parole has already been revoked. He picked up a hooker on Stark Street last night and almost killed her. Brutalized her and left her for dead in a Dumpster. Somehow she managed to climb out, and two kids found her this morning.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Looks like it. She's still on critical, but she's holding her own. When did you see him?”
“About a half hour ago.”
I told him about the repo and the incident with Ramirez.
I could see emotion bubbling inside Morelli. Frustration, mostly. And some anger. “I don't suppose you'd consider moving back in with me?” he asked. “Just until Ramirez is found.”
Be a little crowded what with Terry there, too. “Don't suppose I would,” I said.
“How about if I marry you?”
“Now you want to marry me? What happens after they catch Ramirez? We get a divorce?”
“There's no divorce in my family. Grandma Bella wouldn't hear of it. You have to die to get out of a marriage in my family.”
“Gosh, that's cheery.” And true. I understood some of Joe's attitude about marriage. The Morelli men had a bad track record. They drank too much. They cheated on their wives. They beat their kids. And the misery lasts 'til death do them part. Fortunately for many of the Morelli wives, death visited the Morelli men early. They were shot in bar brawls, killed themselves in DUI car crashes, and exploded their livers. “We'll talk some other time,” I said. “You'd better get moving. And don't worry, I'll be careful. I've been keeping my doors and windows locked, and I'm carrying a gun.”
“You have a permit to carry concealed?”
“Got it yesterday.”
“I didn't hear any of this,” Morelli said. He bent his head and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Make sure the gun's loaded.”
He was actually a very nice guy. Some of the less desirable Morelli genes had passed him by. He had the Morelli good looks and charm and none of the abusive qualities. The womanizing part was in question.
I smiled and said thanks. Although I'm not sure what I was thanking him for. For being a decent person about the gun, I guess. Or maybe for caring about my safety. At any rate, the smile and the thanks were encouragement enough for Morelli. He pulled me to him and kissed me again, hot and serious this time. Not a kiss I'd easily forget, nor want to end.
When he broke from the kiss, still holding me close, the grin returned. “That's better,” he said. “I'll call when I can.”
And he was gone.
Damn! I locked the door behind him and thunked myself on the forehead with the heel of my hand. I was such a dope. I'd just kissed Morelli like there was no tomorrow. Not the message I'd wanted to give him at all. What about Terry? What about Bunchy? What about Ranger? Never mind Ranger, I thought. Ranger wasn't part of this problem. Ranger was a different problem.
Briggs stuck his head out from my bathroom doorway. “Is it safe to come out?”
“What are you doing in there?”
“I heard you in the hall and didn't want to screw it up for you. Sounded like you finally had a live one.”