Fearless Fourteen - Janet Evanovich [66]
Gazarra went about securing the crime scene, and a couple minutes later, Rich Spanner showed up.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Spanner said to me. “People are gonna talk.” He entered the apartment, checked out the body, and returned to the hall. “What do you think?”
“I think he’s got one too many holes in his forehead.”
“Yeah,” Spanner said. “I noticed that. I also noticed he reminds me a lot of the dead guy in Morelli’s basement.”
“Because of the hole in his head?”
“Mmm. And because you found him.”
“It’s getting old.”
“I bet,” Spanner said.
I repeated my mostly true story for Spanner. The ME slipped past us, followed by two paramedics and a forensic photographer.
“Do you have anything else you want to share?” Spanner asked.
I shook my head. “No. Do you think that’s Stanley Zero on the floor?”
Spanner moved into the doorway. “Hey, Gazarra, you have a tentative ID?”
“Looks like Stanley Zero. We got a driver’s license here. He matches the photo, except for the hole in his head.”
SIXTEEN
I WAS SHOCKED to find Lula still in the lot.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her.
“Waiting for you.”
“It’s been over an hour and you’re still here.”
“I have stuff to ask you. I want to know about the honeymoon. I’m thinking Paris or Tahiti.”
“Can you afford that?”
“Don’t the groom pay?”
“Can Tank afford that?”
“He better,” Lula said. “I don’t come cheap.”
“I thought the groom planned the honeymoon.”
“That was in the Dark Ages. And besides, Tank’s busy. He don’t got a lot of time for that stuff. He’s gotta watch Ranger’s ass.”
“If it was me, I’d go to Paris,” I told her. “Better shopping, and it’s a shorter plane ride. Italy would be good, too, if you’re interested in handbags and shoes.”
“I never thought of Italy, but that’s a good idea. I could always use a new handbag.”
“Why do you want to get married?” I asked Lula.
“I don’t know. It just sort of popped into my head. And then one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was at the lawyer drawing up my prenup. I guess it was one of those snowball things. You don’t think I’m rushing into it, do you? I could postpone it to July, but I got a good deal on the hall for the reception. I’d have to give the hall up. And the fireworks wouldn’t be the same. This way, I get the jump on July Fourth.” Lula cranked her car over. “Where we going now?”
“Back to Morelli’s house. I should make sure Zook is okay.”
EVERYTHING LOOKED STATUS quo at Morelli’s. It was early afternoon, but there was no activity. The crime scene tape was in place. No gawkers present. Lula pulled to the curb, took the key out of the ignition, and there was a sound like a grenade getting launched, and then thud, something hit the passenger-side door.
“What the bejeezus was that?” Lula yelled. “Incoming! We’re under attack. Call SWAT. No, wait a minute. I hate those SWAT guys.”
Mooner waved at me from Morelli’s small front porch. “Sorry,” he said. “My bad.”
I got out and examined the car door. There was a dent in it, and something was splattered from one end to the other. I cautiously touched it with my finger.
“Potato?” I asked Mooner.
“Yep. Yukon Gold.”
Lula was around the car and next to me, and there was a frightening amount of white showing in her eyes. The whole eyeball was about the size of a tennis ball. “My baby!” she yelled. “My Firebird! Who did this? Who made this mess on my Firebird?” The big eyes narrowed, her face scrunched up, and she took a closer look, her nose just about touching the potato splatter. “Is this a dent? This better not be a dent I’m seeing.”
“I didn’t recognize you,” Mooner said. “Good thing I was all out of Russet. Russet is, like, atomic.”
Zook and Gary were standing behind Mooner.
“We’ve been guarding the house,” Zook said. “Mooner is so cool. He knows all about homegrown security. He knows how to make potato cannons.”
Mooner tapped the top of his head. “No grass growing here.”
“What’s a potato cannon?” Lula wanted to know.
“All you need is PVC pipe and hairspray and a lighter,” Zook said. “And you can shoot anything