I gave Shirlene my card, and Lula and I trudged down the stairs with Lula grumbling the whole way.
“Walk up the stairs, walk down the stairs. Walk up the stairs, walk down the stairs,” she said. “Leroy better hope I never catch up with him.”
Now that I was back on the street I wasn't all that sad not to have made an apprehension. An apprehension would have meant a trip to the police station. And the police station was the last place I wanted to visit right now.
“I guess we could try some bars,” I said with no enthusiasm.
“Snake's not gonna be in a bar at this time of day,” Lula said. “Snake's more likely to be hanging around a schoolyard, checking up on his sales force.”
That gave me some incentive. “Okay. Let's drive by some schools.”
An hour later we were out of schools and still hadn't found Snake.
“Any other ideas?” I asked Lula.
“Who's listed on his bail ticket?”
“Shirlene.”
“No one else? No mama?”
“Nope. Just Shirlene.”
“I don't know,” Lula said. “Usually a man like Snake is out on the street. Even in weather like this he could be on the street.” She slowly drove down Stark. “Not nobody out here today. Don't even see anybody we can ask on.”
We drove by Jackie's corner, and it was empty too.
“Maybe she's with a client,” I said.
Lula shook her head. “Nuh-uh, she isn't with no client. She's in that snooty parking lot, waiting for her man. Bet my life on it.”
Lula cruised the block around my apartment building while I checked for Morelli. I didn't see his car, or anything that resembled a cop or a copmobile, so I had Lula drop me at the front door. I entered the lobby cautiously, not completely convinced of Morelli's departure. I did a fast survey and crossed to the stairs. So far, so good. I crept up the stairs, cracked the door at the second floor, peeked out to an empty hallway and sighed in relief. No Morelli.
I couldn't avoid Morelli forever, but I figured if I avoided him long enough he'd find other leads, and eventually I'd be off the hook.
I unlocked my door and was met with the sound of Rex running on his wheel. I bolted the door behind myself, hung my bag and jacket on one of the four coat hooks I'd installed in my tiny foyer and took a left into the kitchen.
The light was blinking on my answering machine. Four messages.
The first was from Morelli. “Call me.”
I knew it was Morelli because my nipples contracted at the sound of his voice. His tone held a hint of annoyance. No surprise there.
The second message was just as cryptic. “Leave Mo alone. Or else.” A man's voice, muffled. Unrecognizable. Great. Just what I needed. Anonymous threatening messages.
The third was from the Nissan service center telling me I had new points and plugs. The timing had been reset. And my car was ready to be picked up.
The fourth was from my mother. “Stephanie! Are you there? Are you all right? What's this I hear about a shooting? Hello? Hello?”
Good news travels fast in the burg. Bad news travels even faster. And if there's scandal attached, life as we know it comes to a halt until every detail of the tawdry event has been retold, examined, exclaimed over and enhanced.
If I allowed myself to consider what was being said about me at this very moment I'd probably fall over in a faint.
I dialed my parents' number and got a busy signal. I briefly considered whether this absolved me from the obligatory explanatory phone call and decided it didn't.
I made myself a tuna fish, potato chip and pickle sandwich and ate it at the kitchen counter.
I tried calling my mother again. Still busy.