I rolled my eyes.

“And it tags a guy like Kenny a congenital wise-ass when anyplace else on the planet he’d be labeled a sociopath. When Kenny was eight years old he set fire to his dog and never showed a flicker of remorse. He’s a manipulative user. He’s totally self-centered. He’s fearless because he feels no pain. And he’s not stupid.”

“Is it true he cut off his finger?”

“Yeah. It’s true. If I’d known he was threatening you, I’d have done things differently.”

“Like what?”

Morelli stared at me for a few moments before answering. “I’d have given you the sociopath lecture sooner, for one thing. And I wouldn’t have left you alone in an unlocked apartment protected by juice glasses.”

“I wasn’t actually sure it was Kenny until I saw him tonight.”

“From now on carry your pepper gas on your belt, not in your pocketbook.”

“At least we know Kenny’s still in the area. My guess is that whatever Spiro has is keeping Kenny here. Kenny isn’t going to take off without it.”

“Did Spiro seem rattled about the finger?”

“Spiro seemed … annoyed. Inconvenienced. He was worried Con would find out things weren’t running smoothly. Spiro has plans. He expects to take over and franchise.”

Morelli’s face creased into a broad smile. “Plans to franchise the funeral parlor?”

“Yeah. Like McDonald’s.”

“Maybe we should just let Kenny and Spiro go at each other and scrape the remains off the floor when they’re done.”

“Speaking of remains, what are you going to do with the finger?”

“See if it matches up to what’s left of George Mayer’s stump. And while I’m doing that I thought I’d subtly ask Spiro what the hell is going on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He doesn’t want the police involved. Wouldn’t report the mutilation or the note. If you go barging in there he’s going to kick me out of the loop.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Give me the finger. I’ll take it back to Spiro tomorrow. See if I can learn anything interesting.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“The hell you can’t! It’s my finger, dammit. It was in my coat.”

“Give me a break. I’m a cop. I have a job to do.”

“I’m a bounty hunter. I have a job to do too.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the finger, but you have to promise to keep me informed. The first hint I get that you’re holding out on me I’ll pull the plug.”

“Good. Now give me the finger, and go home before you change your mind.”

He took the plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and plunked it into my freezer. “Just in case,” he said.

When Morelli left I locked the door and checked on the windows. I looked under the bed and in all the closets. When I was confident my apartment was secure I went to bed and slept like a rock, with all the lights blazing.

The phone rang at seven. I squinted at the clock and then at the phone. There is no such thing as a good call at 7 A.M. It’s been my experience that all calls between the hours of 11 P.M. and 9 A.M. are disaster calls.