Anyway, here she was, and I seemed to be in the middle of something. Whether or not she was Ranger's wife wasn't my most pressing problem. The fact that Carmen felt comfortable shooting at me put her beyond the nuisance category and into the yikes category. I was supposed to call Tank if I needed help, but I wasn't ready to push that button just yet. If Tank thought I was in danger he'd assign someone to follow me around whether I wanted it or not. My experience with Ranger's men is that this isn't desirable. They're big and hard to hide. And they're overly protective, since the fear is that Ranger might shoot them in the foot should they let anything bad happen to me.
I stuffed a change of clothes into my shoulder bag and locked my apartment up behind me. I headed out and did a fast check on my car before getting in. No spray-painted slogans suggesting I was a slut. Windows hadn't been broken by a sledgehammer. No ticking noises coming from the undercarriage. Looked to me like Carmen hadn't yet discovered my address.
I drove the short distance to Morelli's house and parked at the curb. Morelli lived in a pleasant neighborhood with narrow streets, small attached houses, and hard-working people. I spent enough time here that knocking wasn't a required formality. I let myself in and heard Bob galloping at me from the kitchen. He hurled himself against me, tail wagging, eyes bright. Bob was in theory a golden retriever, but his gene pool was questionable. He was big and orange and fluffy. He loved everybody, and he ate everything… including table legs and upholstered chairs. I gave him a hug, he realized I didn't have any bakery bags, and he trotted away.
Morelli didn't gallop at me, but he didn't drag his feet either. He met me halfway to the kitchen, pressed me into the wall, plastered himself against me and kissed me. Morelli was off-duty in jeans and a T-shirt and bare feet. And the only weapon Morelli was currently carrying was pressed into my stomach.
'Bob really missed you,' he said, his mouth moving down my neck.
'Bob?'
'Yeah.' He hooked a finger into my shirt and slid it off my shoulder so his mouth could kiss more of me. 'Bob's been nuts without you.'
'Sounds serious.'
'Fucking pathetic.'
His hands slid down to my waist, under my shirt, and in an instant the shirt was off.
'You aren't hungry, are you?' he asked.
'Not for what's in the kitchen.'
I was dressed in one of Morelli's shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. I was beside Morelli, on his couch, and we were eating cold pizza and watching a ball game.
'I had an interesting experience today,' I told him. 'A woman introduced herself to me as Ranger's wife. And then she pulled a gun on me and got two rounds off at my car.'
'Am I supposed to be surprised at this?'
There's a certain amount of professional respect between Morelli and Ranger. And from time to time they've worked together for the common good. Beyond that, Morelli thinks Ranger's a head case.
'Do you know anything about this woman?' I asked Morelli.
'No.'
'Ranger left for Miami today. Do you know anything about that?'
'No.'
'Do you know anything about anything?'
'I know a few things,' Morelli said. Tell me more about Ranger's wife.'
'Her name is Carmen. I saw a Virginia driver's license issued to Carmen Manoso. And two credit cards. She's pretty. Sort of curly brown hair, blue eyes, about five-foot-five, Caucasian, nice shape. Fake boobs.'
'How do you know the boobs are fake?'
'Actually, I'm just hoping they're fake. And she was dressed in black SWAT clothes.'
'That's cute,' Morelli said. 'Mr and Mrs Ranger clothes.'
'She said one minute they were in bed and then poof, he was gone. Cleaned out the bank account and emptied the office. And the cell number she has for him is out of service.'
'And your cell number for him?'
'It's in service, but he's not answering.'
'It doesn't work for me,' Morelli said. 'I can't see Ranger tying himself up in a marriage.'