I gave him all the details except for the part about Joyce Barnhardt. I told him about the silver-lettered note I’d received, and about the silver K on my bedroom wall, and about the screwdriver, and about how it would seem they’d come from Kenny.

He was quiet when I finished. After several seconds he asked me if I bought the shoes.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Let’s see.”

I showed him the shoes.

“Very sexy,” he said. “I think I’m getting excited.”

I quickly put the shoes back in the box. “You have any idea what Kenny meant when he said Spiro had something of his?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“I might.”

Morelli opened the refrigerator and stared at the shelves. “You’re out of beer.”

“I had to choose between food and the shoes.”

“You made the right choice.”

“I bet this all has to do with the stolen guns. I bet Spiro was in on it. Maybe that’s why Moogey got killed. Maybe Moogey found out about Spiro and Kenny stealing guns from the army. Or maybe all three of them did the job, and Moogey got cold feet.”

“You should encourage Spiro,” Morelli said. “You know, go to the movies with him. Let him hold your hand.”

“Oh, ugh! Gross. Yuk!”

“I wouldn’t let him see you in the shoes, though. He might go berserk. I think you should save the shoes for me. Wear something slinky with them. And a garter belt. They’re definitely garter belt shoes.”

Next time I find a finger in my pocket I’ll flush it down the toilet. “It bothers me that we haven’t been able to spot Kenny, but he doesn’t seem to be having any trouble tailing me.”

“How did he look? He grow a beard? Dye his hair?”

“He looked just like himself. Didn’t look like he was living in dark alleys. He was clean, fresh shaven. Didn’t look hungry. Had on clean clothes. Seemed to be alone. Was a little, um, upset. Said I was a pain in the ass.”

“No! You? A pain in the ass? I can’t imagine why anyone would think that.”

“Anyway, he’s not living hand to mouth. If he’s selling guns, maybe he has money. Maybe he’s staying in motels out of the area. Maybe in New Brunswick or down by Burlington or Atlantic City.”

“His picture’s been circulated in Atlantic City. Nothing’s turned up. To tell you the truth, his trail has been dead cold. Having him pissed off at you is the best news I’ve had all week. All I have to do now is follow you around and wait for him to make another move.”

“Oh good. I love being bait for a homicidal mutilator.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

I didn’t bother to hold back the grimace.

“Right,” Morelli said, cop face in place. “Time out on the flirting and bullshit. We need some serious conversation here. I know what people say about the Morelli and Mancuso men … that we’re bums and drunks and womanizers. And I’ll be the first to admit that it’s pretty much true. The problem with this kind of blanket judgment is that it makes it hard for the occasional good guy, like me …”