“I’ve got Melvin stashed at my parents’ house and I’m free until this afternoon,” I said. “Do you have any new leads?”
“No, but I was thinking we should take a look at Melvin’s loft.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’m at the bonds office.”
“I’m in the area. I’ll pick you up.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining.”
“It’s not a problem. I have a car.”
Ten minutes later the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and Diesel parked behind me in a yellow and black Ford Bronco.
“This looks brand-new,” I said.
“Yeah, right out of the box. I’ve got a good fixer.”
“Did he also fix you a place to live?”
“She,” Diesel said. “Ana.”
“So, where do you live?”
“Wherever I want. Right now, it’s in your parking lot. It’s a motor home.”
“Omigod! I was wondering who owned it. It looks like it belongs in a NASCAR lot. Is it wonderful inside?”
“It has all the necessities,” Diesel said. “And some luxuries.”
I buckled in and Diesel headed across town to Deacon Plumbing. The lot was empty when we drove in. Diesel parked close to the building, and we went to Melvin’s door.
“Someone’s been here,” Diesel said. “They didn’t have a key and they aren’t as talented as I am at uninvited entry. There are visible scratches.” He opened the door and we walked in and went upstairs to the loft.
We stood very still for a moment, taking everything in. Drawers were slightly ajar from being searched, couch cushions had been removed and cut open, the refrigerator door had been left open. In the center of the room, on Melvin’s desk, two giant monitors had been smashed beyond recognition. Retribution had been written across them in yellow mustard from a squeeze bottle. The remainder of the bottle emptied out onto the carpet.
We walked through the loft and returned to the stairs.
“Doesn’t look like Oswald took anything,” I said.
Diesel nodded. “I’m sure he was disappointed at not finding Melvin at home. He spent some time looking for something, though. Melvin’s computer would be at the top of my list.”
“There are a lot of possibilities. Oswald could be a computer hoarder. You can never have too many computers. Or he could be sentimental and collect computers as mementos when he trashes someone’s loft. Or he could be worried that the Baked Potatoes accessed something sensitive, and it was stored on Melvin’s computer.”
“Yeah, I’m going with the last one.”
“You know what it is, don’t you?”
“I don’t know the details. I just know the big picture. My job is to capture Oswald. I’m only interested in Melvin’s computer if it leads me to my man.”
“What if Melvin’s computer has nothing?”
“Then I look elsewhere. Right now, it’s what I have, so we should go back to your parents’ place and talk to Melvin.”
“Yes, but it will have to wait. I’m tied up for the rest of the day.”
“Let me know when you aren’t tied up,” Diesel said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I was downstairs in my building’s lobby, waiting for Morelli, when he arrived at three o’clock. The sun was making a halfhearted attempt to struggle out through the cloud cover, but the rain was still at a drizzle. I was wearing an extra layer of mascara, heels, and a cranberry-colored knit dress for the occasion. I accessorized with a tan raincoat.
“My mother gave me a card to give to Uncle Sergio,” I said to Morelli.
“My mother gave me a present to give to him,” Morelli said. “I have no idea what it is.”
Morelli drove out of the parking lot and turned onto Hamilton Avenue. “What’s new?” he asked.
“Andy looks a lot better. They’re keeping him in the hospital one more day. Melvin is staying with my parents. Grandma has adopted him. And Diesel and I went snooping in Melvin’s loft. It looks like someone broke in and searched the place.”
“Oswald Wednesday?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
Sergio’s party was being held at his daughter’s house in the Burg. It looked a lot like my parents’ house, but it was more Catholic. There was a plaster Madonna on the front lawn and there were Madonnas and crucified Jesuses in every room in the house.
We left our card and present on a table that was already filled with cards, presents, and bottles of wine. The table was by the front door and Morelli looked like he was thinking about sneaking out.