“Perin got one off. It didn't hit anybody, though.” I smiled at him. Ranger wasn
't nearly so scary when I was tanked on Bombay.
“Perin was shooting at you?”
“Well, no. There was this other guy who sort of didn't like Perin talking to me. And there was an altercation.” I touched Ranger's diamond stud earring. “Pretty,” I said.
Ranger grinned. “How many drinks did you have?”
“One. But it was a big one. And I'm not much of a drinker.”
“Something to remember,” Ranger said.
I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, but I hoped it had to do with sex and taking advantage of me.
He turned into my lot and rolled to a stop at the door. Major disappointment, because it meant he was dropping me off, as opposed to parking and coming in for a nightcap . . . or something.
“You have a visitor,” he said.
“Moi?”
“That's Morelli's bike.”
I swiveled to look. Sure enough, Morelli's Ducati was parked next to Mr. Feinstein's Cadillac. Damn. I stuck my hand in my shoulder bag and fished around.
“What are you looking for?” Ranger asked.
“My gun.”
“Probably it's not a good idea to shoot Morelli,” Ranger said. “Cops are real touchy about that sort of thing.”
I wrenched myself out of the car, straightened my skirt, and huffed into the building.
Morelli was sitting in the hall when I got upstairs. He was dressed in black jeans, black motorcycle boots, a black T-?shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket. He had a two-?day beard and his hair was long, even by Morelli standards. If I hadn't been mad at him I'd have had my clothes off before I got to my door. Now, I realize I'd just had the same thought about Ranger, but there it was. What can I say? Pretty soon Bunchy and Briggs would be looking good to me.
“Boy, you have a lot of nerve coming here,” I said to Morelli, fumbling for my key.
He took his key ring from his pocket and opened my door.
“Since when do you have a key to my apartment?” I asked him.
“Since you gave it to me back when we were friendlier.” He looked down at me and amusement softened the set of his mouth. “Have you been drinking?”
“Occupational hazard. I had this job to do for Ranger, and drinking seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
“You want some coffee?”
“No way, that would ruin everything. Anyway, I wouldn't drink your coffee. And you can leave now, thank you.”
“I don't think so.” Morelli opened the refrigerator, searched around and discovered the bag of Mocha Java I'd bought at Grand Union. He measured out water and coffee and tripped the switch on my coffeemaker. “Let me take a winger here. You're mad at me, right?”
I rolled my eyes so far into the back of my head I saw myself thinking. And while my eyes were all the way back there, I looked for Briggs. Where was the little devil?
“You want to give me a clue?” Morelli said.
“You don't deserve a clue.”
“That's probably true, but how about giving me one anyway.”