“Not yet.”
“I have a theory,” I said.
Morelli smiled. “I love this part.”
“I think Lipinski was skimming. And maybe Martha Deeter was in on it, or maybe she found out about it, or maybe she was just a pain in the ass. Anyway, I think Lipinski might have been keeping some accounts for himself.” I showed Morelli the checks and told him about the banks.
“And you think this other guy who worked for the cable company, John Curly, was skimming, too?”
“There are some similarities.”
“And Fred might have disappeared because he was making too much noise?”
“More than that.” I told him about the Mega Monster flyer in the garbage bag, and about Laura Lipinski, and finally about Fred and the leaves.
“I'm not liking this picture,” Morelli said. “I wish I'd known about these things sooner.”
“I just put it together.”
“Two steps in front of me. I've been really stupid on this one. Tell me about the fake bookie.”
“Bunchy.”
“Yeah. Whoever.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I figured you two were working together.”
“What's Bunchy look like?”
“A fireplug with eyebrows. About my height. Brown hair. Needs a cut. Receding hairline. Looks like a street person. Walks and talks like a cop. Drinks Corona.”
“I know him, but I'd be hard-?pressed to say I was working with him. He doesn't work with anybody.”
“I don't suppose you want to share what you know with me?”
“Can't.”
Wrong answer. “Okay, let me get this straight,” I said. “Some Fed has been following me around for days, camping out on my doorstep, breaking into my apartment, and you think that's okay?”
“No, I don't think it's okay. I think it's grounds for beating the shit out of him. I didn't know he was doing it, and I intend to make sure it stops. I just can't tell you what it's all about right now. What I can tell you is that you should back off and let us take it from here. Obviously we're both going down the same road.”
“Why should I be the one to back off ?”
“Because you're the one who's getting bombed. You notice my car exploding?”
“The day isn't over.”
Morelli's pager went off. Morelli looked at the read-?out and sighed. “I have to go. You want a ride home?”
“Thanks, but I need to stay. I have a call in to Ranger. I'm not sure what he wants to do with the Porsche.”
“Some time soon we need to talk about Ranger,” Morelli said.
Oh boy. I'll look forward to that conversation.
Morelli skirted the crane and got into the dusty maroon Fairlane that was his company car. He cranked the engine over and pulled out of the lot.
My attention swung back to the crane operator. He was maneuvering the boom over the truck. A cable was attached, and the truck was slowly hauled upright, exposing what was left of the Porsche.