in back, taking a snooze, or he could be in Manni's ordering tuna on a kaiser to go. Probably I should park and investigate. If it turned out he wasn't in the van, I'd hide behind one of the cars and gas him when he came into range.
I pulled into a slot at the back of the lot, four cars down from the van, and cut the engine. I was about to reach for my bag when suddenly the driver's side door was ripped open, and I was yanked from behind the wheel. I stumbled forward, slamming into the wall of Morelli's chest.
"Looking for me?" he asked.
"You might as well give up," I told him, "because I never will."
The line of his mouth tightened. "Tell me about it. Suppose I lay down on the pavement and you run over me a few times with my own car . . . just for old times. Would you like that? Do you get your money dead or alive?"
"No reason to get testy about it. I have a job to do. It's nothing personal."
"Nothing personal? You've harassed my mother, stolen my car, and now you're telling people I've gotten you pregnant! In my opinion, getting someone pregnant is pretty fucking personal! Jesus, isn't it enough I'm accused of murder? What are you, the bounty hunter from hell?"
"You're overwrought."
"I'm beyond overwrought. I'm resigned. Everyone has a cross to bear . . . you're mine. I give up. Take the car. I don't care anymore. All I ask is that you try not to get too many dings on the door and you change the oil when the red light goes on." His eyes flicked to the car interior. "You're not making phone calls, are you?"
"No. Of course not."
"Phone calls are expensive."
"Not to worry."
"Shit," he said. "My life is shit."
"Probably this is just a phase."
His expression softened. "I like this outfit you're wearing." He hooked a finger around the wide neck of my Tshirt and looked inside at the black spandex sports bra. "Very sexy."
A flash of heat shot through my stomach. I told myself it was anger, but I suspect carnal panic would be closer to the truth. I smacked his hand away. "Don't be rude."
"Well hell, I've made you pregnant, remember? One more little intimacy shouldn't bother you." He moved closer. "I like the lipstick, too. Cherry red. Very tempting."
He lowered his mouth and kissed me.
I know I should have kneed him in the groin, but the kiss was delicious. Joe Morelli still knew how to kiss. It had started out slow and tender in the beginning, and it had ended up hot and deep. He pulled back and smiled, and I knew I'd been had.
"Gotcha," he said.
"Dick breath."
He reached around me and removed the keys from the ignition. "I don't want you following."
"Furthest thought from my mind."
"Yeah, well I'm going to slow you down a little, anyway." He walked to the deli's Dumpster and pitched the keys inside. "Happy hunting," he said, heading for the van. "Make sure you wipe your feet before you get in my car."
"Wait a minute," I yelled after him. "I have some questions. I want to know about the murder. I want to know about Carmen Sanchez. And is it true there's a contract out on you?"
He hitched himself up into the van and drove out of the lot.
The Dumpster was industrial-sized. Five feet high, five feet wide, and six feet long. I stood on tiptoe and peered over the side. It was one-quarter full and smelled like dead dog. I couldn't see the keys.
A lesser woman would have burst into tears. A smarter woman would have had an extra set of keys. I dragged a wooden crate to the side of the Dumpster and stood on it for a better look. Most of the garbage was bagged. Some of the bags had split on impact, spewing out half-eaten subs, globs of potato salad, coffee grounds, grill grease, unrecognizable slop, and heads of lettuce turning to primordial ooze.
I was reminded of road kill. Ashes to ashes . . . mayo to its various components. Doesn't matter whether it's cats or cole slaw, death is not attractive.
I did a rundown of everyone I knew, but I couldn't think of anyone dumb enough to climb into the Dumpster for me. Okay, I told myself, now or never. I swung my leg up and over the side and hung there for a moment, gathering courage. I lowered myself slowly, upper