"Shut up," he said, "or I'll hit you. I'd like to do that anyway, except my boss wants you in one piece."

"Why?"

"I don't know. That's just his way."

"No, I mean why does he want me?"

"My boss doesn't like people who get too nosy. And you've got a knack for being in places you don't belong. My boss thinks you know something."

"Who, me? No way. I don't know anything. You could fill a room with what I don't know."

"You can tell it to my boss. He wants to talk to you. You can cooperate and walk out with me. Or I can stun-gun you and carry you out. Which is it?"

One more stun gun and I was going to permanently forget half the alphabet.

"I'll walk out."

He turned and Joyce was standing there with a gun in her hand.

"No way, Jose," Joyce said. "I'm following her. I saw her first. You want the money? Find it yourself."

"Fuck off. And my name isn't Jose. It's Dave."

"I'm counting to three, Dave. If you aren't hauling ass by three, I'm going to shoot you in the nuts."

"What is it with my nuts? Why's everybody picking on my nuts?"

"One," Joyce said.

"You're getting on my nerves."

“Two.”

"Screw this," Dave said.

He grabbed the barrel of the gun, the gun discharged, and Joyce shot off the top of his pinkie finger.

Dead silence. We were all surprised.

Dave looked at his shortened pinkie, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crashed face-first to the floor.

"Shit, Joyce," I said to her. "There's blood all over the hall and Dillon just did the floors."

Joyce put her boot to Dave and rolled him onto his back. "Was his nose always flat like that?"

"No. And he didn't used to have blood coming out of it either. He broke it when he fell on his face."

Joyce took his hand and shoved it into his pants so he wouldn't get any more blood on the floor. "What do you want to do with him? We could call 911. Or we can put him in the elevator and push the button."

"Was he alone?"

"No. He has a partner waiting in a black BMW."

"We'll turn him over to the partner."

We dragged him to the elevator and rode him down to the ground level. Then we dragged him out to the parking lot, and Joyce whistled through her teeth to get the partner's attention.

The BMW drove up and the partner got out and squinted down at Dave. Dave still had his hand rammed into his pants, and his crotch had a big bloodstain.

"Jesus, lady," Dave's partner said. "Goddamn."

"It's not as bad as it looks. Joyce wanted to shoot him in the nuts, but the gun discharged prematurely. Probably that happens a lot with you guys, right?"

"What?"

"Anyway, she just shot his pinkie finger off. We put his hand in his pants so he wouldn't bleed on the carpet."

"Man, that's cold."

"Do you need help getting him into the car?"

Dave's partner reached inside and popped the trunk.

"He's not dead," I said to the partner.

"This is a new BMW with real leather seats. I don't want him bleeding all over everything. He'll be fine in the trunk."

Joyce had her gun drawn, presumably protecting her investment, which was me. Go figure, saved by Joyce Barnhardt.

"Don't try anything stupid," Joyce said to Dave's partner. "It was disappointing to have to settle for a pinkie finger. I wouldn't mind getting a second chance to shoot someone's nuts off."

I grabbed Dave's leg and helped wrangle him into the trunk. We closed the lid, and the BMW sped out of the lot.

"So what's the deal for the rest of the day?" Joyce said. "Are you staying here?"

That was the original plan, but I had a feeling Dave might come back after he got his nose straightened and his finger stitched up.

"I'm going to spend the night at RangeMan," I told Joyce.

"Give him a hug for me," Joyce said. And she walked to her car and took off.

I ran upstairs, hung my bag on my shoulder, and wrapped my arms around Rex's aquarium. I carted Rex out to the Porsche. Then I ran down to the basement and told Dillon about the door and the carpet. Dillon didn't look all that surprised. It wasn't the first tune he'd had to fix my door.

FOURTEEN

AT SEVEN O'CLOCK, I heard the keys get tossed onto the silver tray in the hall, and seconds later, Ranger walked into the kitchen.

"I thought you were staying in your apartment tonight," Ranger said.

"Change of plans."

He glanced at Rex on the kitchen counter. "This looks serious."

"Remember the guy who got his boys stapled? He came visiting. He wanted me to go for a ride with him, but I declined."

Ranger took two wineglasses out of the cabinet and uncorked a bottle of red. He poured two glasses and gave one to me. "What did it take to discourage him?"

"Joyce Barnhardt with a gun. She tailed me to my apartment and saw Dave follow me into the building. That's the guy's name, Dave. She came up to check things out and decided Dave was a threat to her future earnings. So she shot the top of his pinkie finger clear off his hand. Then Dave's partner came and loaded him into the trunk of their Beemer and drove him away. That's the short version."

"Go figure," Ranger said.

"Exactly."

We both sipped some wine.

"That's not even the best part of the day," I said to Ranger. "I stopped at Morelli's house to get some DVDs for Lula, and I walked in on Dickie."

"Dickie Orr?"

"Yep. It wasn't Dickie's blood in his house. The goon squad was sent to roust him, and he shot one of them in the knee and fled. Morelli has him in protective custody. He's locked away so he can live to testify against his partners, but his partners are disappearing. Smullen is confirmed dead. The police are presuming Gorvich is dead. And they can't find Petiak."

The doorbell buzzed and Ranger opened the door to Ella and dinner. He took the tray from her and carried it into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"A peanut butter sandwich at five."

Ella had sent grilled vegetables, pork tenderloin, and saffron rice for two.

"Ella knew I was here?"

"Everyone knows you're here. There aren't a lot of secrets in this building. Only the private apartments and the lavatories aren't monitored."

"Do they know anything about our relationship?'"

"No. And they won't ask."

"Not even Tank?"

"Not even Tank."

"So they think we're sleeping together."

"Probably." Ranger set two place settings at the breakfast bar.

"Did Morelli or Dickie say anything about the money?"

"No. Morelli said the police were investigating the law firm's client list, but he didn't say more than that. It wasn't a long visit. Lula was outside, waiting in the car."

We both dug into the food.

"Did Dave say anything interesting?"

"He said I was nosy, that I had a knack for being in places I didn't belong, and his boss didn't like it."

"So they were going to do what to you?"

"Dave didn't say, but I don't think it was anything good."

I cleaned my plate and looked over at the tray. No dessert. Ranger never ate dessert. Another reason I couldn't marry Ranger. That and the fact he didn't see marriage as an option.

We loaded the dishwasher, put the leftover food in the fridge, and migrated into the den to watch television.

"Do you watch television a lot?" I asked him.

"Almost never." He remoted his way through the guide. "No games on tonight. Only boxing."

I thought about Lula's theory on bringing out the beast in a man. So far, Ranger had the beast under control. Best not to disturb that balance.

"No boxing," I said.

"Okay, let's roll through the movies. The Terminator, Pulp Fiction, Braveheart, The Transporter, Deliverance. Any of those turn you on?"

Where was Terms of Endearment when you needed it? "They're all sort of violent," I said.