Morelli and I walked into Big Jim's together. Ranger was already there, sitting with his back to the wall at a table that afforded a good view of the room. Always the bounty hunter, and most likely feeling naked since he'd probably left most of his personal arsenal in the car in honor of Morelli.
There was no need to look at a menu. If you knew anything at all, you ate ribs and greens at Jim's. We ordered and sat in silence until drinks were served. Ranger kicked back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Morelli in a less aggressive, more indolent slouch. Me on the edge of my seat, elbows on the table, ready to jump and run should they decide to have a shootout just for the hell of it.
“So,” Ranger finally said, “what's going on here?”
Morelli leaned forward slightly. The pitch of his voice was casual and low. “The army's lost some toys. So far they've turned up in Newark and Philadelphia and Trenton. You hear anything about this stuff being out on the street?”
“There's always stuff out on the street.”
“This is different stuff,” Morelli said. “Cop killers, LAWs, M-16s, new 9mm Berettas stamped 'Property of U.S. Government.' ”
Ranger nodded. “I know about the car in Newark and the cop in Philly. What have we got in Trenton?”
“We've got the gun Kenny used to shoot Moogey in the knee.”
“No shit?” Ranger tipped his head back and laughed. “This gets better all the time. Kenny Mancuso accidentally shoots his best friend in the knee, is apprehended by a cop who by chance stops in to get gas even as the gun is smoking, and it turns out he's got a funny gun.”
“What's the word?” Morelli asked. “You know anything?”
“Nada,” Ranger said. “What's Kenny give you?”
“Nada,” Morelli said.
Conversation stopped while we shuffled silver and glasses to make room for the plates of ribs and bowls of greens.
Ranger continued to stare at Morelli. “I get the feeling there's more.”
Morelli selected a rib and did his lion-on-the-Serengeti imitation. “The stuff was stolen from Braddock.”
“While Kenny was stationed there?”
“Possibly.”
“I bet the little devil had access too.”
“So far all we have is coincidence,” Morelli said. “It'd be nice if we could get a line on the distribution.”
Ranger did a scan on the room and focused his attention back to Morelli. “Been quiet here. I can ask in Philly.”
My pager beeped deep in my pocketbook. I stuck my head in and rummaged around, finally resorting to extracting the contents one by one—cuffs, flashlight, Mace, stun gun, hairspray, hairbrush, wallet, sports Walkman, Swiss army knife, pager.
Ranger and Morelli watched in grim fascination.
I glanced at the digital readout. “Roberta.”
Morelli brought his head up from his ribs. “Are you a betting person?”
“Not with you.”
Jim had a public phone in the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms. I dialed Roberta's number and leaned a hip against the wall while I waited. Roberta picked up after several rings. I was hoping she'd found the caskets, but no such luck. She'd checked every locker and found nothing unusual, but she'd remembered a truck that had made several trips to a locker in the vicinity of number 16.
“At the end of the month,” she said. “I remember because I was doing the monthly billing, and this truck went in and out a couple times.”
“Can you describe it?”
“It was fairly large. Like a small moving van. Not an eighteen-wheeler or anything. More that it could hold a couple rooms of furniture. And it wasn't a rental. It was white with black lettering on the door, but it was too far to read from the office.”
“Did you see the driver?”