I let myself into my apartment and tiptoed past Briggs, who was asleep on my couch.
SUNDAY MORNING I woke up to rain. It was coming down in a steady drone on my fire escape, spattering against my window. I opened the curtains and thought, ick. The world was gray. Beyond the parking lot, the world didn't exist at all. I looked at the bed. Very tempting. I could crawl into bed and stay there until the rain stopped, or the world came to an end, or until someone showed up with a bag of doughnuts.
Unfortunately, if I went back to bed I might lie there taking stock of my life. And my life had some problems. The project that was taking most of my time and mental energy wasn't going to get me lunch money. Not that it mattered, I was determined to find Fred, dead or alive. The projects Ranger gave me weren't working out. And the bounty hunter projects were a big goose egg. If I thought about my life long enough I might reach the conclusion I needed to go out and get a real job. Something that required pantyhose every day and a good attitude.
Even worse, I might get to thinking about Morelli, and that I was an idiot not to have invited him to spend the night. Or worse still, I might think about Ranger, and I didn't want to go there at all!
And then I remembered why I hadn't invited Morelli into my apartment. Briggs. I closed my eyes. Let it all be a bad dream.
Bam, bam, bam, on my door. “Hey!” Briggs yelled. “You haven't got any coffee. How am I supposed to work without coffee? Do you know what time it is, Sleeping Beauty? What, do you sleep all day? No wonder you can't afford any food in this hellhole.”
I got up and got dressed and stomped out to the living room. “Listen, Shorty, who the hell do you think you are, anyway?”
“I'm the guy who's gonna sue your ass. That's who I am.”
“Give me a little time, and I could really learn to hate you.”
“Jeez, and just when I was thinking you were my soul mate.”
I gave him my best eat-?dirt-?and-?die look, zipped myself into my rain jacket, and grabbed my shoulder bag. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Black. Lots of it.”
I sprinted through the rain to the Buick and drove to Giovichinni's. The front of the store was redbrick, sandwiched between other businesses. On either side of Giovichinni's the buildings were single story. Giovichinni's was two stories, but the second floor wasn't used for much. Storage and an office. I drove to the end of the block and took the service alley that ran behind the store. The back side of Giovichinni's was redbrick, just like the front. And the back door opened to a small yard. At the end of the yard was a dirt parking area for delivery trucks. Two doors down was a real estate office. The back wall was stuccoed over and painted beige. And the back door opened to a small asphalt parking lot.
So suppose cheapskate Fred drives his leaves to Giovichinni's in the dark of night. He parks the car and turns off his lights. Doesn't want to get caught. He unloads the leaves and hears a car coming. What would he do? Hide. Then maybe he's there hiding, and he sees someone come along and deposit a garbage bag behind the real estate office.
After that I was lost. I had to think about after that some more.
Next stop was the 7-Eleven and then home with a large coffee for me and a Big Gulp of coffee for Briggs and a box of chocolate-?covered doughnuts . . . because if I had to put up with Briggs, I needed doughnuts.
I shucked my wet jacket and settled down at the dining room table with the coffee and doughnuts and a steno pad, doing my best to ignore the fact that I had a man typing away at my coffee table. I listed out all the things I knew about Fred's disappearance. No doubt now that the photographs played a large role. When I ran out of things to write in the steno pad, I locked myself in my bedroom and watched cartoons on television. This took me to lunchtime. I didn't feel like eating lamb leftovers, so I finished off the box of doughnuts.
“Cripes,” Briggs said, “do you always eat like this? Don't you know about the major food groups? No wonder you have to wear those 'romantic' dresses.”
I retreated to my bedroom, and while I was retreating I took a nap. I was startled awake by the phone ringing.
“Just wanted to make sure you were going to come take me to the Lipinski viewing tonight,” Grandma said.
The Lipinski viewing. Ugh. Trekking out in the rain to see some dead guy wasn't high on my list of desirable things to do. “How about Harriet Schnable?” I suggested. “Maybe Harriet could take you.”
“Harriet's car's on the fritz.”
“Effie Reeder?”
“Effie died.”
“Oh! I didn't know that.”
“Almost everybody I know has died,” Grandma said. “Bunch of wimps.”
“Okay, I'll take you.”
“Good. And your mother says you should come for dinner.”
I BUZZED THROUGH the living room, but before I could get to the door Briggs was on his feet.
“Hey, where are you going?” he asked.