Chapter 4

"Shit." Givens circled the car, surveying the damage and shaking his head in disbelief. "I just got this car."

I didn't say a word. I could have told him about the times my car had been graffitied with even more embarrassing words but I decided to let him have his moment of denial. The other stages of grief would kick in when he reported it to his insurance company and they raised his rates through the roof.

"Know what's gonna happen now?" he asked but I got the feeling he wasn't talking to me. "I'm gonna report this to Art and the next seized vehicle he lets me have is the rusted out Reliant that smells like puke and cat piss."

I winced at the description because it sounded a lot like the 1983 Chevy Celebrity I'd recently purchased for four hundred dollars.

"Shit," Givens repeated.

And then I realized what he said. The Town Car wasn't even his and his car insurance company would never know. The insurance bill was going to be footed by the taxpayers. My curiosity got me past that fact because I needed to know, "What happened to your last car?"

He shook his head ruefully. "What didn't happen to it? It got smashed up by some hit men and then shot into Swiss cheese in a gunfire exchange. If I hadn't've took a bullet myself, Art probably wouldn't've given me another Town Car."

I stared at him and digested what this revelation. Never mind that he got shot. His car got demolished by hit men and shot. And now he was driving the masculine equivalent of the Nova I once had that got spray-painted with words like "pussy." Givens was me, with a dick and a badge. A screw-up who got the job done but not without collateral damage along the way. I felt sympathy for him and an urge to help. "Does Art have to find out?"

Givens turned slowly to me. "It'd be kinda hard to hide the neon pink profanity in the courthouse parking lot."

"I could call Ranger," I offered. "He knows people who can replace the tires and the lights and probably fix the paint job. Probably Art would never know the difference. We'd use the Explorer for a day or so while your car gets sorted out and then you won't have to drive a piss-mobile."

He rubbed his chin, considering my offer. "Who's this Ranger person?"

I pointed to the logo on my chest and fibbed a little. "My boss. Let me call him and see if he knows anybody around here."

Givens surveyed the damage again and nodded, looking more hangdog than any man I'd ever seen and I'd seen plenty as a bounty hunter. Poor guy. I'd been there and done that. Many times. And I had the insurance bill and rusted out K-car to prove it.

I fished my cell phone from the depths of my shoulder bag and called Ranger.

He answered on the first ring. "Babe."

"I'm having a little car trouble," I told him and then explained what happened to Givens' car.

"I don't generally do favors for law enforcement," Ranger said. "I do this for you, you're going to owe me."

I knew exactly how he intended to collect and I sucked in a breath. "Okay."

"I'll call Hal and he'll come up to Frankfort with the Explorer and take care of the marshal's car."

"Thank you."

"You'll thank me when I collect." He hung up.

I shoved the phone back in my bag and fanned myself.

"Well?" Givens asked.

"I owe him." I'd owed Ranger before and his collection methods involved lots of orgasms. I didn't much mind owing Ranger. "Hal's on the way with the Explorer."

"I owe you one," Givens said and he looked genuinely grateful. "Thanks."

Before I could politely let him know my dance card was full, my cell phone rang again. By the time I dug it out of my bag, the call had gone to voice mail. It was my mother and her message was to call her back.

She picked up before the phone even rang. "Call Joseph. Your grandmother's been arrested."

I hung up and punched in Morelli's number.

He answered on the second ring, sounding pissed. "What?"

"Did you arrest my grandmother?"

"I'll call you back."

I shrugged at Givens, figuring he probably had days like this too. Probably his family drove him crazy with similar emergencies. Probably it wouldn't take too much convincing to get him to go back to the diner and order a slice of cake while we waited for Hal.

My phone rang and Morelli sounded even more pissed this time. "Carl Costanza arrested Edna. She set fire to a casket at Stiva's."

My left eye started to twitch.

"It was a closed casket ceremony for Frank Cavaliere and there was a candelabra on the casket. Edna tried to peek, knocked the candelabra over and the casket went up, nearly cremating Frank's remains. Costanza arrested her to get her out of there without a riot starting. He's taking her home now." Morelli sighed. "How's the manhunt with Wyatt Earp going?"

I told him about Givens' car. "He wants to know if it counts for the pool."

"You're a menace!" Morelli exclaimed. "Bad enough things like this happen to your cars but it's like some kind of car-wrecking virus that you're spreading. For God's sake, come home so nothing else happens to the poor man."

"Are you kidding? I think we might be related. His last car got scrunched by hit men and shot up in a gunfight."

Morelli sucked in a breath. "Dear God. There's two of you out there. I have to tell Gazzara. This changes the odds on the pool."

He hung up and I grinned. It was just desserts after his half-assed marriage proposal. And speaking of dessert, I was sure Givens needed cake as badly as I did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As it turned out, Givens was an ice cream guy. Initially, he suggested a beer while we waited but we had a long drive back to Lexington and I really wanted cake. There was a Friendly's a few blocks away and we drowned our sorrows with sugar, calories, carbs and fat. Hal showed up sometime after our second refill of coffee and we hit the road feeling good from our combined sugar highs and the knowledge Givens didn't have to drive a piss-mobile.

My sugar high wore off somewhere along the way because the next thing I knew, Givens was shaking me awake to let me know we were back at the motel. I climbed out of the Explorer, yawning and wiping drool from my chin.

He looked down at me with something that resembled affection. "Get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, we're turning Harlan County upside down to look for Dewey. Arnett's a good liar, hell, a great liar, but I don't think the Dixie Mafia has Dewey. Yet. I'm thinking the Cayenne blew after Dewey got away. We're gonna work that hunch tomorrow, see what we can shake loose."

I was willing to follow his hunch. He knew these people like I knew the people in the Burg and I was a stranger on his turf. "Okay."

Givens smiled. "Good. I'm going to hold on to the car keys in case I get a call. Besides, all my gear is in the Explorer. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure." I'd gotten a good look at his gear - extra handcuffs and ammo, a nylon U.S. Marshals windbreaker, a bulletproof vest, night vision binoculars, and a scary looking pump action shotgun - when he transferred the contents of his trunk to the back of the Explorer. "Just don't sneak off without me."

"Would I do that?"

"Everyone does that."

"Not me. I've got money in that pool and those fuckers in Trenton just changed the odds on account of my car. They need to learn some respect for us Southerners," he drawled. "And maybe they need to learn to stop underestimating you."

"I think their estimations are pretty accurate," I admitted.

"You never worked with a U.S. Marshal before. I'm gonna teach you a few new tricks." He grinned down at me with a look that probably got loads of women before me into trouble. "I said I owed you one and I plan on paying you back."

Gulp.