Morelli was already seated at a table when I walked into Pino’s. Pino’s is the restaurant of choice for most of the cops. It’s got a good bar, a small side room with a handful of tables, and a menu heavy on pizza and Italian American comfort food.
I sat across from him and glanced at the menu. It was a formality, because I knew the menu by heart. I’d been eating at Pino’s for years, and the menu never changed.
“Meatball sub,” I told the waitress. “And a Coke.”
“Same for me,” Morelli said.
He was wearing jeans, a black T-shirt, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was about four weeks overdue for a cut, curling over his ears and at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were serious, but there was a sensual softness to his mouth. He looked like the movie star version of an undercover cop.
“Did you leave Briggs locked in the car?” he asked.
“No. I dropped him off at my parents’ house.”
“I was afraid I’d be eating lunch with him.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Morelli grinned. “What would you do to me?”
“All sorts of good things,” I said.
“And what can I do to you?” he asked.
“I have a list.”
“Am I going to get to walk my fingers down that list anytime soon?”
“As soon as I capture Poletti and get rid of Briggs.”
Morelli ate part of a breadstick. “I’m working on it. I have my own reasons for wanting to talk to Poletti.”
“Any leads?”
He shook his head. “No leads, but his wife invited me to come back anytime.”
“So it wasn’t a total loss?”
Another grin. “I’m saving myself for you.”
I mostly believed him, but truth is, Morelli just about leaks excess testosterone from his pores. We have a tense relationship that skirts permanent commitment but acknowledges the “L” word. I’m careful not to question him too closely on his sex life beyond our relationship, because if I ever found out he was sleeping with someone else I’d have to kill her. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t kill her, but I’d certainly buy out the candy aisle at 7-Eleven, eat it all, and throw up.
“Let’s change the subject,” I said. “Tell me about Ranger.”
“Ranger had Emilio Gardi in custody, waiting for extradition to Miami. Gardi apparently had some very bad stuff with him that he was going to use to take out Ranger and his whole operation. Something went wrong, and Gardi accidentally took the hit. One of the Rangeman guys is also pretty sick, but everyone else got out in time.”
“Gardi was a setup?”
“Looks that way. I don’t know all the details. The feds aren’t releasing any information on the contaminant, but Gardi and the Rangeman guy are in isolation and being treated for radiation poisoning. And the first responders said Gardi was screaming about polonium, begging for medical help.”
“What’s polonium?”
“I don’t know exactly. I didn’t have time to Google it, but I’m told it’s the stuff some speculate killed Yasser Arafat. Supposedly it’s not a nice death.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Yeah. Probably you’re going to be too creeped out to sleep tonight and you’re going to need a big strong guy like me to keep you safe.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you make all this up just so I’d sleep with you?”
“No. I’m not that clever, but I am getting desperate, so let me know if it’s working.”
“I have Briggs to protect me.”
“I hear some sarcasm there, but I know Briggs, and he’s a mean little bastard. I wouldn’t underestimate him in a bar fight.”
Our food arrived, and we dug in.
“This doesn’t add up for me,” I finally said. “I was under the impression that Ranger and Gardi hadn’t met prior to Gardi’s arrest. Why was Gardi trying to take down Rangeman?”
“I imagine Gardi was working for someone. When it all went down, someone at Rangeman hit the big red button and the call simultaneously brought in the feds, the hazmat team, and Trenton first responders. The feds immediately took over and put a lid on any information coming from Gardi. I’m surprised you don’t know more from Ranger.”
“I spoke to him briefly, but he couldn’t talk.”
“I’m sure he’s scrambling, trying to keep his business running without his control room.”
And knowing Ranger, he was on the hunt for whoever’d sent Gardi.
“How long do you think he’ll be out of the building?” I asked Morelli.
“No one’s saying. This is the tightest security I’ve ever seen. Everyone’s walking around with their ass clenched.”
Welcome to my world. My sphincter isn’t exactly relaxed. Ranger has lots of enemies, and he sits with his back to the wall, so I’ve become used to a certain element of danger that always surrounds him. This was a whole other deal. This was stone cold scary.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” I asked.
“Paperwork. And I want to walk around Buster’s backyard. We still haven’t found the murder weapon.”
“I have my theory.”
Morelli finished his Coke and sat back in his chair. “I bet we both have the same theory.”
“I’m thinking Poletti isn’t the killer.”
“Yeah, it’s worth throwing into the mix. He could have let himself into the apartment for whatever reason, found another dead poker player, left in a panic, and ran into you on the way out.”
“Buster was in Atlantic City, so who else has a key?”
Morelli signaled for the check. “Turns out lots of people had keys, including Scootch.”
“Did you talk to Miriam Pepper?” I asked Morelli.
“I did. She was completely hammered at one in the afternoon. And I got a better offer from her than I did from Poletti’s wife.”
“Let me guess. She offered you a Manhattan.”
Morelli pushed back from the table. “I was inches from taking it.”