“We'll wait until we see her drive away, and then we'll leave,” I said to Lula. “We'll trip the alarm when we open the door, but we'll be long gone before the police get here.”
I heard the Saturn engine catch, and then there was an explosion that rocked the building. The explosion blew the fire door off its hinges, shattered the big front window, and knocked Lula and me to our knees.
“Fudge!” Lula said.
My instinct was to leave the building. I didn't know what caused the explosion, but I wanted to get out before it happened again. And I didn't know if the building was structurally sound. I grabbed Lula and got her to her feet and pulled her to the front door. We were walking carefully, crunching over glass shards.
Lucky we'd been behind the counter when the explosion occurred. The door had been blown open, and Lula and I picked our way through the debris, onto the sidewalk.
Kan Klean was in a mixed neighborhood of small businesses and small homes, and people were coming out of their houses, looking around for the source of the explosion.
“What the heck was that?” Lula said. “And why's there a tire in the middle of the sidewalk?”
I looked at Lula and Lula looked at me, and we knew why there was a tire in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Car bomb,” Lula said.
We ran around to the parking lot on the side of the building and stopped short. The Saturn was a blackened skeleton of smoking, twisted metal. Difficult to see details in the dark. Chunks of shredded fiberglass body, upholstered cushion, and odds and ends of car parts were scattered over the lot.
Lula had her flashlight out, playing it across the disaster. She momentarily held the light on a segment of steering wheel. Part of a hand still gripped the wheel. A ragged shred of black cloth was attached to the hand.
“Uh oh,” Lula said. “It don't look good for my dry cleaning.”
I felt a wave of nausea slide through my stomach. “We should secure this area until the police get here.”
Fifteen minutes later, the entire block was cordoned. Yellow police tape stretched everywhere and fire trucks and emergency vehicles were angled between police cars lights flashing. Banks of portable lights were going up to better see the scene. Macaronis from all parts of the Burg-were gathered in a knot to one side of the lot.
Morelli arrived shortly after the first blue-and-white, and he immediately whisked me away, lest I be torn limb from limb by Macaronis. He got the story, and then he stuffed me into his SUV with police escort. Forty-five minutes later, he returned and slid behind the wheel.
“Tell me again how this happened,” Morelli said.
“Lula and I were driving by and I saw the light on, so I thought I'd go in and try to get Lula's dry cleaning. Mama Macaroni was alone in the store, she pulled a gun on me, demanded the keys to the Saturn, and left through the back door. Moments later, I heard the explosion.”
“Good,” Morelli said. “Now tell me what really happened.”
“Lula and I broke in through the back door so we could steal her dry cleaning. Mama Macaroni was waiting for us, and the rest of the story is the same.”
“Definitely go with the first version,” Morelli said.
“Did they find the rest of Mama Macaroni?”
“Most of her. They're still looking through the bushes. Mama Macaroni covered a lot of ground.” Morelli turned the key in the ignition. “Do you want to go home with Her?”
“Yeah. I'm a little creeped out.”
“I was hoping you'd want to go home with me because I'm smart and sexy and fun.”
“That, too. And I like your dog.”
“That car bomb was meant for you,” Morelli said.
“I thought my life would get better if I stopped chasing after bad guys.”
“You've made some enemies.”
“It's Spiro,” I told him.
Morelli stopped for a light and looked at me. “Spiro Stiva? Constantine's kid? Do you know this for sure?”
“No. It's just a gut feeling. The notes sound like him. And
I heard the Saturn engine catch, and then there was an explosion that rocked the building. The explosion blew the fire door off its hinges, shattered the big front window, and knocked Lula and me to our knees.
“Fudge!” Lula said.
My instinct was to leave the building. I didn't know what caused the explosion, but I wanted to get out before it happened again. And I didn't know if the building was structurally sound. I grabbed Lula and got her to her feet and pulled her to the front door. We were walking carefully, crunching over glass shards.
Lucky we'd been behind the counter when the explosion occurred. The door had been blown open, and Lula and I picked our way through the debris, onto the sidewalk.
Kan Klean was in a mixed neighborhood of small businesses and small homes, and people were coming out of their houses, looking around for the source of the explosion.
“What the heck was that?” Lula said. “And why's there a tire in the middle of the sidewalk?”
I looked at Lula and Lula looked at me, and we knew why there was a tire in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Car bomb,” Lula said.
We ran around to the parking lot on the side of the building and stopped short. The Saturn was a blackened skeleton of smoking, twisted metal. Difficult to see details in the dark. Chunks of shredded fiberglass body, upholstered cushion, and odds and ends of car parts were scattered over the lot.
Lula had her flashlight out, playing it across the disaster. She momentarily held the light on a segment of steering wheel. Part of a hand still gripped the wheel. A ragged shred of black cloth was attached to the hand.
“Uh oh,” Lula said. “It don't look good for my dry cleaning.”
I felt a wave of nausea slide through my stomach. “We should secure this area until the police get here.”
Fifteen minutes later, the entire block was cordoned. Yellow police tape stretched everywhere and fire trucks and emergency vehicles were angled between police cars lights flashing. Banks of portable lights were going up to better see the scene. Macaronis from all parts of the Burg-were gathered in a knot to one side of the lot.
Morelli arrived shortly after the first blue-and-white, and he immediately whisked me away, lest I be torn limb from limb by Macaronis. He got the story, and then he stuffed me into his SUV with police escort. Forty-five minutes later, he returned and slid behind the wheel.
“Tell me again how this happened,” Morelli said.
“Lula and I were driving by and I saw the light on, so I thought I'd go in and try to get Lula's dry cleaning. Mama Macaroni was alone in the store, she pulled a gun on me, demanded the keys to the Saturn, and left through the back door. Moments later, I heard the explosion.”
“Good,” Morelli said. “Now tell me what really happened.”
“Lula and I broke in through the back door so we could steal her dry cleaning. Mama Macaroni was waiting for us, and the rest of the story is the same.”
“Definitely go with the first version,” Morelli said.
“Did they find the rest of Mama Macaroni?”
“Most of her. They're still looking through the bushes. Mama Macaroni covered a lot of ground.” Morelli turned the key in the ignition. “Do you want to go home with Her?”
“Yeah. I'm a little creeped out.”
“I was hoping you'd want to go home with me because I'm smart and sexy and fun.”
“That, too. And I like your dog.”
“That car bomb was meant for you,” Morelli said.
“I thought my life would get better if I stopped chasing after bad guys.”
“You've made some enemies.”
“It's Spiro,” I told him.
Morelli stopped for a light and looked at me. “Spiro Stiva? Constantine's kid? Do you know this for sure?”
“No. It's just a gut feeling. The notes sound like him. And
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