I drove around the corner and found the single-lane service road that cut the block. There were no garages back here, either. An asphalt slab had been laid tight to the rear of Ramirez's building. Diagonal parking for six cars had been lined off on the slab. Only four cars were parked. Three old clunkers and a Silver Porsche with a license plate holder that had "The Champ" printed on it in gold. None of the cars were occupied.

Across the service road were more tenement-type apartments. This would be a reasonable place for Morelli to watch or listen, I thought, but there was no sign of him.

I drove through the service road and circled the block, methodically enlarging the area until I'd covered all drivable streets for a nine-block square. The van didn't turn up.

I headed for Stark Street and repeated the procedure, looking for the van. There were garages and alleys here, so I parked the Cherokee and set out on foot. By twelve-thirty I'd snooped in enough broken-down, smelly garages to last me a lifetime. If I crossed my eyes I could see my nose peeling, my hair was sticking to the back of my sweaty neck, and I had bursitis from carrying my hulking shoulder bag.

By the time I got back to the Cherokee, my feet felt like they were on fire. I leaned against the car and checked to make sure my soles weren't melting. A block away I could see Lula and Jackie staking out their corner. I figured it wouldn't hurt to talk to them again.

"Still looking for Morelli?" Lula asked.

I shoved my dark glasses to the top of my head. "Have you seen him?"

"Nope. Haven't heard nothing about him, either. Man's keeping a low profile."

"How about his van?"

"Don't know nothing about a van. Lately, Morelli's been driving a red and gold Cherokee . . . like the one you're driving." Her eyes widened. "Sheee-it, that ain't Morelli's car, is it?"

"I sort of borrowed it."

Lula's face split in a grin. "Honey, you telling me you stole Morelli's car? Girl, he gonna kick your skinny white butt."

"Couple days ago I saw him driving a faded blue Econoline," I said. "It had antennae sticking out all over the place. You see anything like that cruise by?"

"We didn't see nothing," Jackie said.

I turned to Lula. "How about you, Lula? You see a blue van?"

"Tell me the truth now? You really pregnant?" Lula asked.

"No, but I could have been." Fourteen years ago.

"So what's going on here. What you really want with Morelli?"

"I work for his bondsman. Morelli is FTA."

"No shit? There any money in that?"

"Ten percent of the bond."

"I could do that," Lula said. "Maybe I should change my profession."

"Maybe you should stop talking and look like you want to give some before your old man beats the crap out of you," Jackie said.