no. I wasn't interested in his plates."
I thanked her and retreated to my car to drink cold coffee. Every now and then I got out and stretched and stomped my feet. I took a half-hour break for lunch, and nothing had changed when I got back.
Morelli pulled his cop car beside me at three. He got out and slid onto the seat next to me.
"Christ," he said. "It's freezing in this car."
"Is this a chance meeting?"
"Kelly drives by here on his way to work. He saw the Buick and started a pool on who you were shacked up with."
I gritted my teeth. "Unh."
"So what are you doing here?"
"Through some superb detective work, I discovered that Kenny is staying here, registered as John Sherman."
A spark of excitement flickered across Morelli's face. "You have an ID?"
"Both the night clerk and the day clerk recognized Kenny from his picture. He's driving a blue panel van and was last seen yesterday morning. I got here early last night and sat until one. I was back here at six-thirty this morning."
"No sign of Kenny."
"None."
"Have you been through his room?"
"Not yet."
"The maid been through?"
"Nope."
Morelli opened his door. "Let's take a look."
Morelli identified himself to the day clerk and got a key to number 17. He rapped on the unit's door twice. No answer. He unlocked the door, and we both entered.
The bed was unmade. A navy duffel bag sat open on the floor. The bag contained socks and shorts and two black T-shirts. A flannel shirt and a pair of jeans had been tossed across the back of a chair. A shaving kit sat open in the bathroom.
"Looks to me like he's been scared off," Morelli said. "My guess is he spotted you."
"Impossible. I parked in the darkest part of the lot. And how did he know it was me?"
"Sweet thing, everyone knows it's you."
"It's this awful car! It's ruining my life. It's sabotaging my career."
Morelli grinned. "That's a lot to ask of a car."
I tried to look contemptuous, but it was hard with my teeth chattering from the cold. "Now what?" I asked.
"Now I talk to the clerk and ask her to call me if Kenny returns." He gave me a fast head-to-foot appraisal. "You look like you slept in those clothes."
"How'd it go with Spiro and Louie Moon yesterday?"
"I don't think Louie Moon is involved. He doesn't have what it takes."
"Intelligence?"
"Contacts," Morelli said. "Whoever has the guns is selling them off. I did some checking. Moon doesn't move in the right circles. Moon wouldn't even know how to go about finding the right circles."
"What about Spiro?"
"Wasn't ready to give me a confession." He flipped the light off. "You should go home and take a shower and get dressed for dinner."
"Dinner?"
"Pot roast at six."
"You aren't serious."
The grin was back. "I'll pick you up at quarter to six."
"No! I'll drive myself."
Morelli was wearing a brown leather bomber jacket and a red wool scarf. He took the scarf off and wrapped it around my neck. "You look frozen," he said. "Go home and warm up." Then he sauntered off to the motel office.
It was still drizzling. The sky was gunmetal gray, and my mood was equally grim. I'd had a good line on Kenny Mancuso, and I'd blown it. I smacked the heel of my hand against my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'd sat out there in this big dumb Buick. What was I thinking?
The motel was twelve miles from my apartment building, and I berated myself all the way home. I made a quick stop at the supermarket, fed Big Blue more gas, and by the time I pulled into my lot, I was thoroughly disgusted and demoralized. I'd had three chances to nail Kenny, at Julia's house, at the mall, and now at the motel, and I'd screwed up every time.
Probably at this stage in my career I should stick to the low-level criminals, like shoplifters and drunk drivers. Unfortunately, the payout on those criminals wasn't sufficient to keep me afloat.
I did more self-flagellation while I rode the elevator and made my way down the hall. A sticky note from Dillon was taped to my door. Got a package for you, the note said.
I went back to the elevator and hit the button for basement. The elevator opened to a small vestibule with four closed, locked doors freshly painted battleship gray. One door led to storage cages for the use of the residents, the second door opened into the boiler room with its ominous rumblings