“Fruckin' bish,” he said to me. “Fruckin' peesh a shit.”
I searched in my bag for the cell phone, found it, and called Vinnie. I explained I had Kenyon Lally in custody, but there was a small problem with my car, and would he please come collect Lally and Lula and me.
“What's the problem?” Vinnie wanted to know.
“It's nothing. It's trivial. Don't worry about it.”
“I'm not coming until you tell me. I bet this is something good.”
I blew out a sigh. “The car's been stolen.”
“That's it?”
“Yeah.”
“Jeez, I expected something better . . . like it got hit by a train or sat on by an elephant.”
“Are you going to come get us, or what?”
“I'm on my way. Hold your bladder.”
We sat down to wait for Vinnie, and my cell phone rang. Lula and I exchanged glances.
“You expecting a call?” Lula asked.
Both of us thinking it might be Ranger.
“Well, answer it,” Lally said. “Stoopid fruck.”
“It could be Vinnie,” Lula said. “He might have found a goat walking down the middle of the road and decided to do a nooner.”
I searched through my bag, found the phone, crossed all my fingers and my eyes, and answered.
It was Joe. “We found Mark Stemper,” he said.
“And?”
“He doesn't look good.”
Damn. “How bad does he look?”
“He looks dead. Shot in the head. Someone tried to make it look like a suicide, but among other things they put the gun in the wrong hand. Stemper was left-?handed.”
“Oops.”
“Yeah. Not very professional.”
“Where'd it happen?”
“In an abandoned building a couple blocks from RGC. A watchman found him.”
“You ever wonder why Harvey Tipp is still alive?”
“I guess he must pose no threat,” Morelli said. “Or maybe he's related to Mr. Big. Or maybe he's not involved. We really have nothing on him, other than the fact that he's the logical person.”
“I think it's time you talked to him.”
“I think you're right.” There was a moment of silence. “One more thing. Are you still driving the BMW?”