I meant to start out with the facts about the flowers, but the wiring between my brain and my mouth got crossed and I started with Terry Gilman. “So,” I said to Morelli as my opening line, “have you seen Terry Gilman lately?”
“I saw her yesterday. Why?”
“You are such a jerk.”
There was a beat of silence where I figured Morelli was staring down at his shoe and counting
his lucky stars he never married me. “That's what you called to tell me? I'm a jerk?”
“I called to tell you I just got a floral arrangement. Red roses and white carnations.” I read the card to him. “The flowers were ordered through the hotel and placed on Carl Rosens credit card. You might want to remind the Rosen family to cancel Carl's cards. It looks like the killer lifted Rosens MasterCard.”
“He's loving this,” Morelli said. “This is like a chess game. And he's winning. He's taking your pieces one by one.”
“This particular piece was with Susan Lu first thing this morning and hasn't been heard from since. I don't suppose you have Bart Cone in custody.”
“Not in custody, but he's being watched. He's not in Vegas. I'm almost sure of it.”
“What about the other Cones?”
“All three were in for questioning late yesterday afternoon. It's Saturday so they're not at work, but I'll make sure they're tracked down and accounted for.”
“I'm going back out to talk to Susan Lu,” I said to Morelli. “I'll call you if anything turns up.”
“I'd feel better if you just stayed in your hotel room until your plane. Let the Vegas police talk to Susan Lu.”
“I'll be fine. Ranger had a care package dropped off for me. And I've got Lula and Connie to watch my back.”
“Oh shit,” Morelli said.
“This is like Christmas,” Lula said, opening the box from Ranger. “I love getting presents. Look at this. Pepper spray. One for each of us. And handcuffs. Not the cheap-?ass kind, either. These are good-?quality cuffs. And leg shackles. And a thirty-?eight Smith and Wesson snubby revolver. Guess that would be yours since I shoot a Glock. And here's a box of rounds for your thirty-?eight.” Lula pawed through the packing. “Hey, there's no Glock. Where's my gun?” She dumped the box upside down and a note and a stun gun fell out.
I took the note and left the stun gun for Lula.
Call if you need help. I'll come to your room at six to take you to the airport Erik. His phone number was printed at the bottom of the note.
Lula was reading over my shoulder. “Who's Erik?”
“Ranger said he was sending hardware to replace what we lost in luggage. It looks like Erik comes with the hardware.”
I loaded the .38 and slipped it into my purse. I stuffed the personal-?size pepper spray canister into my jeans pocket, I stuck the cuffs half in and half out of the back of my pants, and then I shrugged into a lightweight zipper-?front sweatshirt that was going to make me sweat, but it covered the cuffs. I called to ask that the car be brought around from valet parking.
“I'm going, too,” Connie said. “Give me five minutes to jump in the shower.”
A half hour later the three of us left the room for the lobby. Lula on one side of me, Connie on the other. Connie had made a phone call to a local bondsman and had arranged for a second arms delivery. As a result, Connie and Lula now wore two guns apiece. They each had a gun at the small of their back and they each had one in their purse. My fear of getting shot by the carnation killer was considerably less than my fear that I'd get shot by Connie or Lula.
“You know what I think?” Lula said in the elevator. “I think we're an accident waiting to happen.”
I could ask Erik to ride along with us, but I'd had some past experience with Ranger's men and there was no guarantee that Erik would be any less scary than the carnation killer. “Just keep your eyes open. We'll be fine.”
Connie didn't say anything. Connie had some Mafia skeletons in her closet and Connie took soldiering seriously.
It was after noon when we pulled into Susan Lu's driveway. Lula, Connie, and I got out and went to Lu's front door.
Susan Lu was about five feet, four inches with a flat dish face and glossy straight black hair. She looked older than Singh. I placed her somewhere between forty and forty-?five.
She was surprised to find us on her porch and immediately bristled. Probably we looked like door-?to-?door missionaries, so I understood the bristle. I looked over her shoulder at a small curly white dog scratching at a baby gate that confined him to the kitchen. Boo.
I identified myself, introduced Lula and Connie, and I asked if we could come in. Lu said no and we went in anyway. Lu was a lightweight.