“I don’t go on duty until ten of ten, remember?”

His eyes swiveled to Morelli. “He’s nuts. Your cousin is fucking nuts. He tried to chop my goddamn hand off. He should be locked up. He should be in a looney bin. I was in my office, minding my own business, working on Mrs. Mayer’s bill, when I look up and there’s Kenny. He’s raving about me stealing from him. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. He’s a fucking fruitcake. Then next thing he says he’s gonna chop me up piece by piece until I tell him what he wants to know. Lucky for me I was wearing that bracelet, or I would have been learning how to write left-handed. I started yelling, and Louie came in, and Kenny took off.

“I want some police protection,” Spiro said. “Ms. Marvel here doesn’t perform.”

“I can have a blue-and-white drive you home tonight,” Morelli said. “After that you’re on your own.” He passed his card to Spiro. “If there’s a problem you can give me a call. If you need someone fast go to nine-one-one.”

Spiro made a derisive sound and glared at me.

I smiled nicely and rocked back on my heels. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

The wind had slacked off, and it was drizzling when we came out of the hospital.

“Warm front coming in,” Morelli said. “Supposed to be nice weather behind the rain.”

We climbed into Morelli’s truck and sat, watching the hospital. Roman’s squad car was parking in the driveway reserved for emergency vehicles. After about ten minutes Roman and his partner escorted Spiro into the squad car. We followed them to Demby and waited while they made sure Spiro’s apartment was secure.

The cruiser rolled out of the lot, and we sat for a few minutes longer. Lights were on in Spiro’s apartment, and I suspected they’d be burning all night.

“We should watch him,” Morelli said. “Kenny’s not thinking good. He’s going to keep after Spiro until he gets what he wants.”

“Wasted effort. Spiro doesn’t have what Kenny wants.”

Morelli was motionless, staring irresolutely through the rain-streaked windshield. “I need a different car. Kenny knows my truck.”

It went unsaid that he knew my Buick. The whole world knew my Buick. “What about the tan cop car?”

“He’s probably got that spotted, too. Besides, I need something that’ll give me more cover. A van or a Bronco with tinted windows.” He cranked the engine over and put the truck into gear. “You have any idea when Spiro opens in the morning?”

“He usually gets to work by nine.”

* * *

Morelli knocked on my door at six-thirty, and I was way ahead of him. I’d already showered and dressed in what I’d come to think of as my work uniform. Jeans, warm shirt, shoes of the day. I’d cleaned Rex’s cage and had Mr. Coffee cooking.

“This is the plan,” Morelli said. “You follow Spiro, and I follow you.”