Hard Eight (19 page)

“There’s no such thing as death cooties,” Mrs. Karwatt said.

Irma looked over at her. “Would
you
sit on that couch, now?”

Mrs. Karwatt pressed her lips together.

“Well?” Irma asked.

“Maybe if it was washed real good.”

“You can’t wash away death cooties,” Irma said. End of discussion. Voice of authority.

Morelli sat next to me, his back to the wall, too. Mrs. Karwatt left. And Irma left. And it was just Morelli and me and Rex.

“So what do you think about death cooties?” Morelli asked me.

“I don’t know what the hell death cooties are, but I’m creeped out enough to want to get rid of the couch. And I’m going to boil the remote and dip it in bleach.”

“This is bad,” Morelli said. “This isn’t fun and games anymore. Did Mrs. Karwatt hear or see anything unusual?”

I shook my head no. “Home is supposed to be the safe place,” I said to Morelli. “Where do you go when your home doesn’t feel safe anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Morelli said. “I’ve never had to face that.”

It was hours before the body was removed, and the apartment was sealed.

“Now what?” Morelli asked. “You can’t stay here tonight.”

Our eyes locked, and we were both thinking the same thing. A couple months ago Morelli wouldn’t have asked that question. I would have stayed with Morelli. Things were different now. “I’ll stay with my parents,” I said. “Just overnight, until I figure things out.”

Morelli went in and grabbed some clothes for me and shoved the essentials in a gym bag. He loaded Rex and me into his truck and drove us to the Burg.

_______

Valerie and the kids were sleeping in my old bedroom, so I slept on the couch with Rex on the floor beside me. I have friends who take Xanax to help them sleep. I take macaroni and cheese. And if my mom is making it for me, so much the better.

I had macaroni and cheese at 11:00 and fell into a fitful sleep. I had more macaroni at 2:00 and more at 4:30. A microwave is a wonderful invention.

At 7:30 I woke up to a lot of yelling going on upstairs. My father was causing the usual morning bottleneck in the bathroom.

“I have to brush my teeth,” Angie said. “I’m going to be late for school.”

“What about me?” Grandma wanted to know. “I’m old. I can’t hold it forever.” She hammered on the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there anyway?”

Mary Alice was making snorting horse sounds, galloping in place and pawing the floor.

“Stop that galloping,” Grandma shouted to Mary Alice. “You’re giving me a headache. Go downstairs to the kitchen and get some pancakes.”

“Hay!” Mary Alice said. “Horses eat hay. And I already ate. I have to brush my teeth. It’s real bad when horses get cavities.”

The toilet flushed, and the bathroom door opened. There was a brief scuffle, and the door slammed shut. Valerie and the two girls groaned. Grandma beat them to the bathroom.

An hour later, my father was out to work. The girls were off to school. And Valerie was in a state.

“Is this too flirty?” she asked, standing in front of me in a gauzy little flowered dress and strappy heels. “Would a suit be better?”

I was scanning the paper, looking for mention of Soder. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Wear what you want.”

“I need help,” Valerie said, arms flapping. “I can’t make these decisions all by myself. And what about the shoes? Should I wear these pink heels? Or should I wear the retro Weitzmans?”

I found a dead man sitting on my couch last night. I have couch cooties, and Valerie needs me to make a shoe decision.

“Wear the pink things,” I said. “And take extra quarters, if you have any. Kloughn can always use extra quarters.”

The phone rang, and Grandma ran to answer it. The calls would start now and would go on all day. The Burg loved a good murder.

“I have a daughter who finds men dead on her couch,” my mother said. “Why me? Lois Seltzman’s daughter
never
finds dead men on
her
couch.”

“Isn’t this something,” Grandma said. “Three calls already, and it’s not even nine. This could be bigger than the time your car got crushed by the garbage truck.”

I had Valerie drive me to my apartment building on her way to work. I needed my car, and my car was parked in the lot. Upstairs, my apartment was sealed. Fine by me. I was in no great rush to move back in.

I got into the CR-V and sat there a moment, listening to the quiet. Quiet was in short supply at my parents’ house.

Mr. Kleinschmidt passed me on his way to his car. “Nice going, chicky,” he said. “We can always count on you to keep things interesting. Did you really find a dead guy on your couch?’

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Boy, that must have been something. I wish I could have seen him.”

Mr. Kleinschmidt’s enthusiasm dragged a smile out of me. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Kleinschmidt said, happily. “Call me first thing next time.” He gave me a wave and went off to his car.

Okay, so here we have a new point of view when it comes to dead people. Dead people can be fun. I thought about it for a couple minutes but had a hard time buying into the concept. The best I could do was an admission that Soder’s death made my job easier. Evelyn had no reason to flee with Annie now that Soder was out of the picture. Mabel could stay in her house. Annie could return to school. Evelyn could get her life together.

Unless Eddie Abruzzi was part of the reason Evelyn had to hide. If Evelyn left because she had something Abruzzi wanted, nothing would change.

I looked at the blue-and-white and the crime-scene truck in my parking lot. The bright spot in all this was that unlike snakes in the hall and spiders in my car, this was a major crime and the police would work hard to solve it. And how hard could it be to solve? Someone had dragged a dead man into the foyer, up a flight of stairs, down the hall, and into my apartment . . . during daylight hours.

I dialed Morelli on my cell phone.

“I have some questions,” I said. “How did they get Soder into my apartment?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do!”

“I’ll meet you for coffee,” Morelli said. “There’s a new coffee shop across from the hospital.”

I got a coffee and a croissant, and I sat across from Morelli. “Tell me,” I said.

“Soder was sawed in half.”

“What?”

“Someone used a power saw to cut Soder in half. And then they reassembled him on your couch. The baggy sweater was hiding the fact that they duct-taped Soder back together.”

My lips went numb, and I could feel the coffee cup sliding from my grasp.

Morelli reached forward and pushed my head down, between my legs. “Breathe,” he said.

The bells stopped clanging in my brain, and the dots went away. I sat up and took a sip of coffee. “I’m better now,” I said.

Morelli did a sigh. “If only I could believe that.”

“Alright, so they cut him in half. Then what?”

“We think they used a couple big duffel bags to bring him in. Hockey bags, maybe. Now that you’ve gotten over the gruesome part, the rest of the story is actually ingenious. Two guys, dressed in costume, carrying duffel bags and balloons, were seen entering the lobby and using the elevator. There were two tenants in the lobby at the time. They said they assumed someone was getting one of those
singing birthday presents. Mr. Kleinschmidt had turned eighty the week before, and someone sent him two strippers.”

“What sort of costume were these guys wearing?”

“One was a bear, and the other was a rabbit. No faces showing. About six foot tall, but hard to tell with the costume. We found the balloons in your closet. They took the bags back with them.”

“Did anyone see them leave?”

“No one in your building. We’re still canvassing the neighborhood. We’re checking on costume rentals, too. So far we haven’t come up with anything.”

“It was Abruzzi. He was the one who left the snakes and the spiders. He was the one who put the cardboard cutout on my fire escape.”

“Can you prove it?”

“No.”

“That’s the problem,” Morelli said. “And probably Abruzzi didn’t personally dirty his hands.”

“There’s a connection between Abruzzi and Soder. Abruzzi was the partner who took over the bar, right?”

“Soder lost his bar to Abruzzi because of a card game. Soder was playing some high stakes guys, and he needed money. He borrowed the money from Ziggy Zimmerli. And Zimmerli is owned by Abruzzi. Soder lost big time at the card game, couldn’t repay the money he borrowed from Zimmerli, and Abruzzi took the bar.”

“So what’s the deal with the bar burning down, and Soder getting shot?”

“I’m not sure. Probably the bar and Soder moved from the asset column to the liability column and were liquidated.”

“Did you pick up any prints in my apartment?”

“None that didn’t belong there. With the exception of Ranger.”

“I work with him.”

“Yeah,” Morelli said. “I know.”

“I’m assuming Evelyn isn’t a suspect,” I said.

“Anyone can hire a rabbit and a bear to chop a guy up,” Morelli said. “We aren’t ruling anyone out yet.”

I picked at my croissant. Morelli had his cop face on, and it didn’t give much away. Still, I had a feeling there was more. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“There was a detail we’re not releasing to the press,” Morelli said.

“A gruesome detail?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me make a guess. Soder’s heart was ripped out.”

Morelli looked at me for a couple beats. “This guy is about as crazy as they come,” he finally said. “I’d like to protect you, but I don’t know how. I could chain you to my wrist. Or I could lock you up in a closet in my house. Or you could pack off for an extended vacation. Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re going to agree to any of those things.”

Actually, I thought all of those options sounded kind of appealing. But Morelli was right, I couldn’t agree to any of them.

I took another sip of coffee and looked around the cafe. It had been nicely decorated with new black-and-white tile on the floor and round, wrought-iron soda fountain-style tables and chairs. Morelli and I were the only ones there. It took the Burg a while to warm up to new things.

“Thanks for being so nice to me last night,” I said to Morelli.

He slouched back in his seat. “Against my better judgment, I love you.”

I paused with the coffee cup midway to my mouth, and my heart did a flip-flop.

“Don’t get all excited,” Morelli said. “That doesn’t mean I want a relationship.”

“You could do worse,” I said.

“With who? Lizzy Borden?”

“
You’re
not perfect, either!”

“I don’t find dead guys sitting on my couch.”

“Well, I don’t have a knife scar slicing through my eyebrow from a barroom brawl.”

“That happened years ago.”

“So? The dead guy was on my couch
yesterday
. It’s been twenty-four hours since anything bad has happened.”

Morelli pushed back from the table. “I have to get back to work. Try to stay out of trouble.”

And he was gone, off to fight crime. I, on the other hand, had no crime to fight. Bender was my only open case, and I was willing to pretend he didn’t exist. I was thinking about a second croissant when Les Sebring called on my cell phone.

“Could you stop by the office?” Sebring asked. “I’d like to talk to you.”

I cut across town and got another call just as I was cruising the street in front of Sebring’s office, looking for parking.

“He’s a nerd,” Valerie said. “You didn’t tell me he was a nerd.”

“Who?”

“Albert Kloughn. And what’s with the hovering? Sometimes I can actually feel him breathing down my neck.”

“He’s insecure. Try thinking of him as a pet.”

“A golden retriever.”

“More like a giant hamster.”

“I was sort of hoping he’d marry me,” Valerie said. “I was hoping he’d be taller.”

“Valerie, this isn’t a date. This is a job. Where is he now?”

“He went next door. There’s something wrong with the vending machine that dispenses detergent.”

“He’s a nice guy. A little annoying, maybe. But he won’t
fire you for spilling chicken soup. In fact, he’ll buy you a replacement lunch. Think about it.”

“And I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,” Valerie said. “I’m dressed all wrong.”

I disconnected and found a place to park on the street across from Sebring. I put a quarter in the meter and made sure it registered. I didn’t need another parking ticket. I still hadn’t paid the last one.

Sebring’s secretary walked me upstairs and led me into Sebring’s private office. Sebring was waiting for me. And so was Jeanne Ellen Burrows.

I extended my hand to Sebring. “Nice to see you again,” I said. I nodded to Jeanne Ellen. She smiled in return.

“I guess you’re out of a job,” I said to Jeanne Ellen.

“Yes. And I’ll be flying to Puerto Rico later today to pick up an FTA for Les. I wanted to tell you about Soder before I left. For what it’s worth, Soder claimed Annie was in danger. He never articulated that danger, but he felt Evelyn was incapable of protecting his daughter. I wasn’t successful at locating Annie, but I realized Dotty was the conduit . . . the weak link. So I guarded Dotty.”

“What about the back door? That was left unguarded.”

“I had the house wired,” Jeanne Ellen said. “I knew you were in there.”

“The house was wired, but you still couldn’t find Evelyn?”

“Evelyn’s location was never mentioned. You blew the whistle on me before I had a chance to follow Dotty to Evelyn.”

“And what about Soder? The scene in the bookstore and at Dotty’s house?”

“Soder was a fool. He thought he could bully Dotty into talking.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Jeanne Ellen shrugged. “Professional courtesy.”

I looked beyond her to Sebring. “Do you have an ongoing interest in this?”

“Not unless Soder comes back from the dead.”

“What’s your opinion? Do you think Annie’s in danger?”