“And what did you do to him?”
“I stuck the knife in his eye.”
“Wow, that’s pretty horrible. North Korea was years ago. Have you heard from Vlatko since?”
“No. I thought he was out of my life.”
“I guess he didn’t like losing an eye.”
“Go figure,” Ranger said.
“The only other thing I got from Gardi was the name of the hotel in New York. It was the Gatewell.”
Ranger tapped the name of the hotel into his computer.
“The Gatewell is on the West Side,” he said. “It’s a small boutique hotel. I’ll do some research on it.”
“Would that research involve hacking into their client database?”
“That would be illegal,” Ranger said, “and difficult from this location, but we might be able to manage it.”
Hal drove me back to the bonds office. I loaded Briggs into my car, and picked up a couple pizzas. Morelli was just returning from a walk with Bob when I rolled in. Bob rushed over, sniffed at the pizza boxes, and growled at Briggs.
I put the pizza boxes on the coffee table, and Morelli brought a roll of paper towels and a cold six-pack of Bud from the kitchen. He flipped the television on, and we dug in.
“Any luck finding Poletti today?” Briggs asked Morelli.
Morelli shook his head. “He’s out there, but he’s moving around.”
“Big of you to let us stay here, considering the risk,” Briggs said.
Morelli paused with a pizza slice in his hand. “Risk?”
“The probability that you’ll get a firebomb shot through your window is really high,” Briggs said.
Morelli looked surprised. Like he hadn’t actually thought about it.
“If we don’t advertise that you’re here,” I said to Briggs, “no one will know and no one will shoot a rocket through Morelli’s window.”
Briggs looked at the beer. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a Heineken?” he asked Morelli.
“I’ve got Bud,” Morelli said.
Briggs gave out a major sigh of disappointment and took a Bud. “Have you got a beer glass?” he asked.
“You didn’t ask for a glass at my house,” I said.
“My expectations are lower at your house,” Briggs said.
Morelli got Briggs a glass. “Don’t let the curtains on the windows and the toaster in the kitchen fool you. I’m even less civilized than she is.”
It was a nice thought, but I wasn’t sure it was true. I chugged my beer from the can and scarfed down two pieces of pizza.
“I need to go to my parents’ house to get my laundry,” I said to Morelli. “Grandma has my black suit airing so I can wear it to the funeral tomorrow.”
Morelli looked over at Briggs. “What about him?”
“I was going to leave him here.”
“You aren’t just going to take off, are you?” Morelli asked. “You’re coming back, right?”
“Yes. I’m coming back.”