I slung my black leather bag over my shoulder, grabbed my denim jacket, and locked up. Time to check back on Melvin Baylor. I felt a twinge of nervousness. Eddie DeChooch was worrisome. I didn't like the way he felt comfortable shooting at people on a moment's notice. And now that I was among the threatened I liked it even less.
I crept down the stairs and scurried through the lobby. I looked beyond the glass doors, into the lot. No DeChooch anywhere.
Mr. Morganstern stepped out of the elevator.
“Hello, cutie,” Mr. Morganstern said. “Whoa. Looks like you ran into a doorknob.”
“All part of the job,” I said to Mr. Morganstern.
Mr. Morganstern was very old. Possibly two hundred.
“I saw your young friend leaving yesterday. He might be a little funny in the head, but he travels in style. You've got to like a man who travels in style,” Mr. Morganstern said.
“What young friend?”
“The Mooner person. The one who wears the Superman suit and has long brown hair.”
My heart skipped a beat. It never occurred to me that any of my neighbors would have information about Mooner. “When did you see him? What time?”
“It was early in the morning. The bakery down the street opens at six and I walked there and back, so I guess I saw your friend around seven o'clock. He came out of the door just as I was going in. He was with a lady and they both got into a big black limousine. I never rode in a limousine. It must be something.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“He said . . . dude.”
“Did he look okay? Did he look worried?”
“Nope. He looked same as always. You know, like nobody's home.”
“What did the woman look like?”
“Nice-looking woman. Short, sort of brown hair. Young.”
“How young?”
“About sixty, maybe.”
“I don't suppose the limo had anything written on it? Like the name of the limo company?”
“Not that I recall. It was just a big black limo.”
I turned on my heel, went back upstairs, and started calling limo companies. It took me a half hour to go through all the listings in the phone book. Only two companies made pickups that early yesterday morning. Both pickups were Town Cars and they were both making airport runs. Neither was booked by or picked up a woman.
Dead end again.
I drove over to Melvin's apartment and knocked on his door.
Melvin answered with a bag of frozen corn on his head. “I'm dying,” he said. “My head's exploding. My eyes are on fire.”
He looked awful. Worse than yesterday and that was going some. “I'll be back later,” I told him. “Don't do any more drinking, okay?”
Five minutes later I was at the office. “Hey,” Lula said. “Look at this. Your eyes are sort of black and green today. That's a good sign.”
“Has Joyce been in yet?”
“She came in about fifteen minutes ago,” Connie said. “She was nuts, raving about shrimp chow mein.”
“She was gonzo,” Lula said. “Made no sense at all. Never seen her so mad. I don't suppose you know anything about the shrimp?”