“Yeah.”
He smiled. “If I was you, I'd do the same thing. I wouldn't pack it in just because my week was up. Just between you and me, Vinnie would pay out to anyone brought Morelli back. Well, I'll be on my way. Thanks.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah. I'm gonna use the elevator.”
I closed the door, slid the bolt home, and latched the security chain. When I turned around, Morelli was standing in the bedroom doorway. “Do you think he knew you were here?” I asked.
“If he knew I was here, he'd have his gun aimed at my forehead by now. Don't underestimate Beyers. He's not as stupid as he looks. And he's not nearly as nice as he'd like you to believe. He was a cop. Got kicked off the force for demanding favors from prostitutes of both genders. We used to call him Morty the Mole because he'd bury his doodah in whatever hole was available.”
“I bet he and Vinnie get along just great.”
I went to the window and stared down at the parking lot. Beyers was examining Morelli's car, peering into the windows. He tried the door handle and the trunk latch. He wrote something on the outside of a folder. He straightened slightly and looked around the lot. His attention caught on the van. He slowly walked over and pressed his nose against the windows in an attempt to see the interior; then he laboriously climbed on the front bumper and tried to see through the windshield. He stepped back and stared at the antennae. He stood to the rear and copied the tag. He turned and looked up at my building, and I jumped back from the window.
Five minutes later, there was another knock on my door.
“I was wondering about that van in your lot,” Beyers said. “Have you noticed it?”
“The blue one with the antennae?”
“Yeah. Do you know the owner?”
“No, but it's been here for a while.”
I closed and locked the door and watched Beyers through the peephole. He stood thinking for a moment, and then he knocked on Mr. Wolesky's door. He showed Morelli's picture and asked a few questions. He thanked Mr. Wolesky, gave him his card, and backed away.
I returned to the window, but Beyers didn't appear in the lot. “He's going door-to-door,” I said.
We continued to watch from the window, and eventually Beyers limped to his car. He drove a late-model dark blue Ford Escort equipped with a car phone. He left the lot and turned toward St. James.
Morelli was in the kitchen with his head in my refrigerator. “Beyers is going to be a real pain in the ass. He's going to check on the van plates and put it together.”
“What's this going to do for you?”
“It's going to knock me out of Trenton until I get a different vehicle.” He took a carton of orange juice and a loaf of raisin bread. “Put this on my tab. I've got to get out of here.” He stopped at the door. “I'm afraid you're going to be on your own for awhile. Stay locked up in the apartment here, don't let anyone in, and you should be okay. The alternative is to come with me, but if we get caught together, you'll be an accessory.”
“I'll stay here. I'll be fine.”
“Promise me you won't go out.”
“I promise! I promise!”
Some promises are meant to be broken. This was one of them. I had no intention of sitting on my hands, waiting for Ramirez. I wanted to hear from him yesterday. I wanted the whole ugly affair to be done. I wanted Ramirez behind bars. I wanted my apprehension money. I wanted to get on with my life.
I looked out the window to make sure Morelli was gone. I got my pocketbook and locked up after myself. I drove to Stark Street and parked across from the gym. I didn't have the nerve to move freely on the street without Morelli backing me up, so I stayed in the car with the windows closed and the doors locked. I was sure by this time Ramirez knew my car. I figured it was better than no reminder at all.
Every half hour I ran the air-conditioning to get the temperature down and break the monotony. Several times I'd looked up at Jimmy Alpha's office and seen a face at a window. The gym windows showed less activity.
At twelve-thirty Alpha trotted across the street and knocked on my window.
I powered it down. “Sorry to have to park here, Jimmy, but I need to continue my surveillance for Morelli. I'm sure you understand.”
A wrinkle creased his brow. “I don't get it. If I was looking for Morelli, I'd watch his relatives and his friends. What's this thing with Stark Street and Carmen Sanchez?”
“I have a theory about what happened. I think Benito abused Carmen just like he abused Lula. Then I think he panicked and sent Ziggy and some other guy over to Carmen's to make sure she didn't make noise. I think Morelli walked in on it and probably shot Ziggy in self-defense just like he said. Somehow Carmen and the other guy and Ziggy's gun managed to disappear. I think Morelli's trying to find them. And I think Stark Street is the logical place to look.”
“That's crazy. How'd you come up with such a crazy idea?”