I felt the dinner roll stick in my throat.
“Are you okay?” Morelli asked.
He thumped me on my back, and I coughed up the chunk of bread.
“I want to go take a look,” he said. “The guy was just discovered. The ME hasn’t gotten there yet. Bucky Schmidt was the first on the scene and he knew I’d want to see it.”
“You aren’t faking this just to get out of the party, are you?”
“No, but I’m not unhappy about it, either.”
Fifteen minutes later Morelli angle-parked behind an EMT. We ducked under crime scene tape and went through the open door to a ground-floor garden apartment. The front room was filled with cops and med techs. A man was facedown on the floor. Shoulder-length gray hair. Looked like he spent more time in the bakery than the gym. He was wearing baggy jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt. Blood was pooled under him. I didn’t look too closely.
“Where’s the dog?” Morelli asked.
“It was a neighbor’s dog,” one of the uniforms said. “The door was left open, and the dog ran in. From the blood on his paws and nose and what was left on the floor, we figured he had dinner here. He’s back with his owner.”
I wandered around while Morelli helped with evidence collection in the immediate area of the body. It looked to me like the man lived alone. It was a two-bedroom apartment but only one bedroom was furnished, and only one side of the bed had been slept in. There was one toothbrush in the bathroom. The table in the dining alcove was being used as a desk. It held a printer, a stack of Spider-Man comics, assorted gizmos that were alien to me, pads, pens, sticky pad notes, some empty soda cans, and an empty bag of Chips Ahoy cookies. There was a power strip under the table with several cords attached. I didn’t see a computer. I also couldn’t remember seeing a backpack or a computer bag anywhere in the apartment. I returned to the bedroom and looked in drawers and under the bed. No computer. I pulled the rumpled bedding back and found the computer. A ThinkPad X1. It was the same kind of computer I’d seen Melvin using. There was also a notepad and felt-tip pen by the computer and a large ink spot on the bedsheet.
I didn’t want to risk the computer being collected by the CSI crew. I wanted to hand it over to Melvin first. When he was done with it the police could have it. I buttoned and belted my raincoat and shoved the computer and the notepad inside. I pulled the linens back over the ink splotch and I called Diesel.
“I’m at a crime scene in Hamilton Township and I need a ride,” I told him. “The sooner the better.”
“Are the police after you?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “I’ll text you the address.”
I went back to the front room and told Morelli that Diesel was going to pick me up and take me home.
Morelli looked at the slight bulge in my raincoat and raised an eyebrow. I gave him a smile and he gave his head a single small shake.
“I’ll be here for a while,” he said. “I’ll call when I’m ready to leave.”
* * *
I buckled myself into the Bronco and removed the laptop from my raincoat.
Diesel grinned. “Is this stolen evidence from a crime scene?”
“Yes. I want Melvin to look it over. There’s a very dead man back at the apartment complex. He’s missing part of his tongue, and I’m guessing he’s one of the seven Baked Potatoes.”
“And this is his laptop?”
“It was in a jumble of bed linens. I think Oswald overlooked it. I swiped it before the police got to it. I thought it might be helpful.”
“I underestimated you,” Diesel said. “You have real potential.”
I found myself smiling again. I agreed with him. I had my moments.
Grandma and Melvin were at the kitchen table when Diesel and I walked in. My mom had the dining room table set for dinner and she was at the stove, watching the potatoes boil and basting the two chickens that were roasting in the oven. Sunday was roast chicken day. She always made two because Monday was leftover chicken day. Melvin was at his computer and Grandma was lurking. My mom and Grandma stopped what they were doing and stared at Diesel.
“Diesel!” Grandma exclaimed.
“Yep,” Diesel said. “I’m back.”
“He’s helping me find Oswald Wednesday,” I said.
“Seems like you’ve got a lot of people helping you find him,” Grandma said. “It’s getting hard to keep track of them all. Melvin’s working hard to help you, too. And he’s teaching me how to be a hacker.”