He shrugged into the jacket. “I thought of that, but I decided to give this a try first. See how it felt.”
A horn beeped from outside.
“That's Lula,” I said. “She's got the runs.”
Stephanie Plum 3 - Three To Get Deadly
12
I directed Lula to the rear of the station so we could unload Elliot in as much privacy as possible. We pulled into the drop-off zone and cut the engine. Morelli parked to the side of the lot. The drop-off is covered by closed-circuit TV, so I knew it was only a matter of minutes before the curious spilled out of the back security door.
Lula and I stood to the front of the Firebird, not wanting to get any closer to Elliot than was absolutely necessary. I was soaked to the skin, and without the car's heater blasting away at me I was cold clear to the bone.
“Funny how life works,” Lula said. “All this came about because I ate a bad burrito. It's like God knew what he was doing when he gave me the runs.”
I hugged my arms tight to my chest and clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”
“Exactly my thoughts. Now we know Jackie was right about Old Penis Nose being on Montgomery Street. We even did something good for Elliot. Not that he deserves it, but if it wasn't for us he'd be dumped in the river by now.”
The rear door to the building opened and two uniforms stepped out. I didn't know their names, but I'd seen them around. Morelli told them he was going to tie up the drop zone for a few minutes. Told them he'd appreciate it if they kept the traffic down.
The Medical Examiner's pickup arrived and backed in close to the Firebird. It was a dark blue Ford Ranger with a white cap divided into compartments that reminded me of kennels.
The ID detective said a few words to Morelli and then went to work.
Arnie Rupp, the supervisor of the violent crimes squad, came out and stood hands in pockets, watching the action. A man in jeans, black Trenton PD ball cap and red and black plaid wool jacket stood next to him. Rupp asked the man if he'd completed the paperwork on the Runion job. The man said, not yet. He'd finish it up first thing in the morning.
I stared at the man and little alarms went off in my brain.
The man stared back at me. Noncommittal. Cop face. Unyielding.
Morelli moved into my line of vision. “I'm sending you and Lula home. You both look half drowned, and this will take some time.”
“I appreciate it,” Lula said, “because I've got an intestinal disturbance.”
Morelli lifted my chin a fraction of an inch with his index finger and studied my face. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Sure. I'm f-f-fine.”
“You don't look fine. You look like you're down a couple quarts.”
“Who's the guy standing next to Arnie Rupp? The guy in the jeans and cop hat and red and black plaid jacket.”
“Mickey Maglio. Major Crimes. Robbery detective.”
“Remember when I was telling you about the men in the ski masks and coveralls? The leader, the one who burned my hand and offered me money, had a smoker's voice. Jersey City accent. I know you don't want to hear this, but I swear, Maglio sounds just like him. And he's the right height and the right build.”
“You never saw his face?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Maglio's a good cop,” Morelli said. “He's got three kids and a pregnant wife.”
“I don't know,” I said. “I could be wrong. I'm c-c-cold. Maybe I'm not thinking right.”
Morelli wrapped his arm around me and dragged me toward a waiting squad car. “I'll look into it. In the meantime let's keep it to ourselves.”
Lula got dropped off first due to her pressing needs. I rode in silence for the rest of the trip, shivering in the backseat, unable to sort through my thoughts, afraid I'd burst into tears and look like an idiot in front of my cop chauffeur.