pressed flat . . . as if it had been hit with a frying pan. I couldn't know for sure until Morelli took a look, but I suspected I'd found the missing witness.
I was torn between wanting to jump up and down and make sounds of excitement and wanting to bolt and run before I was hacked up into chops and roasts.
"Got a delivery for you," the man said to Sal. "You want it in the lockup?"
"Yeah," Sal said. "And take the two barrels set by the door. One of them's heavy. You'll need the dolly."
Sal's attention turned back to the fish. "How you gonna cook these fillets?" he asked me. "You know you can pan fry them, or bake them, or stuff them. Personally, I like them fried. Heavy batter, deep fat."
I heard the back door close after the guy with the flat face. "Who was that?" I asked.
"Louis. Works for the distributor in Philly. He brings up meat."
"And then what does he take back in the barrels?"
"Sometimes I save up trim. They use it for dog food."
I had to grit my teeth to keep from flying out the door. I'd found the witness! I was sure of it. By the time I got to the Nova I was dizzy with the effort of restraint. I was saved! I was going to be able to pay my rent. I'd succeeded at something. And now that the missing witness was found, I'd be safe. I'd turn Morelli in and have nothing more to do with Ziggy Kulesza. I'd be out of the picture. There'd be no reason for anyone to want to kill me . . . except, of course, Ramirez. And, hopefully Ramirez would be implicated sufficiently to put him away for a long, long time.
The old man across from Carmen's apartment had said he'd been bothered by the noise from a refrigerator truck. Dollars to donuts it had been a meat truck. I couldn't know for sure until I did another check on the back of Carmen's apartment building, but if Louis had parked close enough he might have been able to ease himself down onto the roof of the refrigerator truck. Then he put Carmen on ice and drove away.
I couldn't figure the connection with Sal. Maybe there was no connection. Maybe it was just Ziggy and Louis working as cleanup for Ramirez.
I had a decent view of Sal's from where I sat. I shoved the key into the ignition and took one last look. Sal and Louis were talking. Louis was cool. Sal was agitated, throwing his hands into the air. I decided to watch awhile. Sal turned his back on Louis and made a phone call. Even from this distance I could see he wasn't happy. He slammed the receiver down, and both men went into the walk-in freezer and reappeared moments later rolling out the trim drum. They shunted the drum down the hallway leading to the back exit. Louis reappeared a short while later with what appeared to be a side of beef slung over his shoulder. He deposited the meat in the freezer and rolled out the second drum. He paused at the back hallway and stared toward the front of the store. My heart skipped in my chest, and I wondered if he could see the snooping. He walked forward, and I reached for my Sure Guard. He stopped at the door and turned the little OPEN sign to CLOSED.
I hadn't expected this. What did this mean? Sal was nowhere in sight, the store was closed, and so far as I knew it wasn't a holiday. Louis left through the back hallway, and the lights went out. I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The bad feeling escalated to panic, and the panic told me not to lose Louis.
I put the Nova in gear and drove to the end of the block. A white refrigerator truck with Pennsylvania plates eased into traffic ahead of me, and two blocks later we turned onto Chambers. I would have liked nothing better than to drop the whole thing in Morelli's lap, but I hadn't a clue how to get in touch with him. He was north of me on Stark Street, and I was heading south. He probably had a phone in the van, but I didn't know the number, and besides, I couldn't call him until we stopped somewhere.
The refrigerator truck picked up Route 206 at Whitehorse. Traffic was