"Yes, but what about the wedding?" a small voice murmured from deep in my brain.

Shut up, I told the voice. I'll worry about it later I'll worry about it later.

"And what about your legs?" the voice asked. "Did you shave your legs this morning?"

Cripes, I was barely able to breathe with needing this G.o.dd.a.m.n o.r.g.a.s.m and now I was supposed to worry about the hair on my legs! Where's the justice in this world? Why me? Why am I the one worrying about the hair on my legs? Why is it always the woman worrying about the freaking hair?

"Earth to Steph," Ranger said.

"If we do it now does it count as a credit toward capturing DeChooch?"

"We aren't doing it now."

"Why not?"

"We're in a parking garage. And by the time I get you out of the garage you'll have changed your mind."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So what's the point here?"

"The point is that you can break down a person's defense system if you apply the right pressure."

"Are you telling me this was just a demonstration? You got me into this . . . this state state to prove a point?" to prove a point?"

His hands were still at my waist, holding me against him. "How serious is this state state?" he asked.

If it was any more serious I'd spontaneously combust. "It's not that serious," I told him.

"Liar."

"How serious is your state state?"

"Frighteningly serious."

"You're complicating my life."

He opened the car door for me. "Get in. Ronald DeChooch is next on the list."

The front room to the paving company offices was empty when Ranger and I walked in. A young guy poked his head around a corner and asked what we wanted. We said we wanted to talk to Ronald. Thirty seconds later Ronald strolled in from somewhere in the back of the building.

"I heard an old lady popped you in the eye, but I didn't realize she did such a good job," Ronald said to me. "That's a first-cla.s.s shiner."

"Have you seen your uncle lately?" Ranger asked Ronald.

"No, but I heard he was involved in the accident outside the funeral parlor. He shouldn't be driving at night."

"The car he was driving belongs to Mary Maggie Mason," I said. "Do you know her?"

"I've seen her around." He looked at Ranger. "Are you working this case, too?"

Ranger gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Good to know," Ronald said.

"What was that?" I asked Ranger when we got outside. "Was that what I think it was? Was that hemorrhoid saying it made a difference with you on board? Like, now he was going to take the search seriously?"

"Let's take a look at Dougie's house," Ranger said.

Dougie's house hadn't changed since the last time I was there. No evidence of a new search. No evidence that Dougie or Mooner had pa.s.sed through. Ranger and I went room by room. I filled Ranger in on the previous searches and the missing pot roast.

"Do you think it's significant that they took a pot roast?" I asked Ranger.

"One of life's mysteries," Ranger said.

We walked around back and snooped in Dougie's garage.

The little yappy dog that lives next door to Dougie left his post on the Belskis' back porch and skipped around us, yipping and snapping at our pants legs.

"Think anyone would notice if I shot him?" Ranger asked.

"I think Mrs. Belski would come after you with a meat cleaver."

"Have you talked to Mrs. Belski about the people searching the house?"

I smacked myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand. Why hadn't I thought to talk to Mrs. Belski? "No."

The Belskis have lived in their row house forever. They're in their sixties now. Hard-working, st.u.r.dy Polish stock. Mr. Belski is retired from Stucky Tool and Die Company. Mrs. Belski raised seven children. And now they have Dougie for a neighbor. Lesser people would have been at war with Dougie, but the Belskis have accepted their fate as G.o.d's will and coexist.

The Belskis' back door opened, and Mrs. Belski stuck her head out. "Is Spotty bothering you?"

"Nope," I said. "Spotty is fine."

"He gets excited when he sees strangers," Mrs. Belski said, coming across the yard to get Spotty.

"I understand there've been some strangers going through Dougie's house."

"There are always strangers in Dougie's house. Were you there when he held his Star Trek Star Trek party?" She shook her head. "Such goings-on." party?" She shook her head. "Such goings-on."

"How about lately? In the last couple days."

Mrs. Belski scooped Spotty up in her arms and held him close. "Nothing like the Star Trek Star Trek party." party."

I explained to Mrs. Belski that someone had broken into Dougie's house.

"No!" she said. "How terrible." She gave a worried glance at Dougie's back door. "Dougie and his friend Walter get a little wild sometimes, but they're really nice young people at heart. They're always nice to Spotty."

"Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around the house?"

"There were two women," Mrs. Belski said. "One was my age. Maybe a little older. In her sixties. The other was a couple years younger. I was coming back from walking Spotty and these women parked their car and let themselves into Dougie's house. They had a key. I a.s.sumed they were relatives. Do you suppose they were thieves?"

"Do you remember the car?"

"Not really. All cars look alike to me."

"Was it a white Cadillac? Was it a sports car?"

"No. It wasn't either of those. I would have remembered a white Cadillac or a fancy sports car."

"Anyone else?"

"An older man has been stopping by. Thin. In his seventies. Now that I think about it, he might have been driving a white Cadillac. Dougie gets lots of visitors. I don't always pay attention. I haven't noticed anyone looking suspicious, except for the women who had a key. I remember them because the older one looked at me and there was something about her eyes. Her eyes were scary. Angry and crazy."

I thanked Mrs. Belski and gave her my card.

When I was alone in the car with Ranger I got to thinking about the face Mooner saw in the window the night he got shot. It had seemed so improbable we hadn't given it a lot of attention. He hadn't been able to identify the face or even give it much detail . . . with the exception of the scary eyes. And now here was Mrs. Belski telling me about a sixty-something woman with scary eyes. There was also the woman who'd called Mooner and accused him of having something that belonged to her. Maybe this was the woman with the key. And how did she get a key? From Dougie, maybe.

"Now what?" I said to Ranger.

"Now we wait."

"I've never been very good at waiting. I have another idea. How about if we use me as bait? How about if I call Mary Maggie and tell her I have the thing thing and I'm willing to trade it for Mooner. And then I ask her to pa.s.s it on to Eddie DeChooch." and I'm willing to trade it for Mooner. And then I ask her to pa.s.s it on to Eddie DeChooch."

"You think Mary Maggie's the contact?"

"It's a shot in the dark."

MORELLI CALLED A half hour after Ranger dropped me off. "You're what?" Morelli yelled.

"Bait."

"Jesus."

"It's a good idea," I said. "We're going to let people think I have whatever it is that they're after . . ."

"We?"

"Ranger and me."

"Ranger."

I had a mental picture of Morelli clenching his teeth.

"I don't want you working with Ranger."

"It's my job. We're bounty hunters."

"I don't want you doing that job, either."

"Well, guess what? I'm not crazy about you being a cop."

"At least my job is legitimate," Morelli said.

"My job is just as legitimate as yours."

"Not when you work with Ranger," Morelli said. "He's a nut case. And I don't like the way he looks at you."

"How does he look at me?"

"The same way I do."

I could feel myself hyperventilating. Breathe slow, I told myself. Don't panic.

I got rid of Morelli, made myself a peanut b.u.t.ter and olive sandwich, and called my sister.

"I'm worried about this marriage thing," I said. "If you you couldn't stay married, what are couldn't stay married, what are my my chances?" chances?"

"Men don't think right," Valerie said. "I did everything I was supposed to do and it was wrong. How can that be?"

"Do you still love him?"

"I don't think so. Mostly I'd like to punch him in the face."

"Okay," I said. "I have to go now." And I hung up.

Next, I paged through the phone book, but there was no Mary Maggie Mason listed. No surprise there. I called Connie and asked her to get me the number. Connie had sources for unlisted phones.

"While you're on the line, I've got a quickie for you," Connie said. "Melvin Baylor. He didn't show up for court this morning."

Melvin Baylor lives two blocks from my parents. He's a perfectly nice forty-year-old guy who got taken to the cleaners in a divorce settlement that stripped him of everything but his underwear. To add insult to injury, two weeks after the settlement his ex-wife Lois announced her engagement to their unemployed next-door neighbor.

Last week the ex and the neighbor got married. The neighbor is still unemployed but now driving a new BMW and watching his game shows on a big-screen TV. Melvin, meanwhile, lives in a one-room apartment over Virgil Selig's garage and drives a ten-year-old brown Nova. On the night of his ex's wedding Melvin gulped down his usual dinner of cold cereal and skim milk and in profound depression drove his sputtering Nova to Casey's Bar. Not being any kind of a drinker, Melvin got properly snockered after two martinis. He then got into his wreck of a car, and for the first time in his life showed some backbone by crashing his ex-wife's wedding reception and relieving himself on the cake in front of two hundred people. He was roundly applauded by every man in the room.

Lois's mother, having paid eighty-five dollars for the three-tiered extravaganza, had Melvin arrested for indecent exposure, lewd conduct, trespa.s.s on a private party, and destruction of private property.

"I'll be right there," I said. "Have the paperwork ready for me. And I'll get Mason's number when I come in."

I grabbed my bag and yelled to Rex that I wouldn't be gone long. I ran down the hall, down the stairs, and slammed into Joyce in the lobby.

"I heard from people that you've been going all over this morning asking about DeChooch," Joyce said. "DeChooch is mine now. So back off."

"Sure."

"And I want the file."