AN: Thank you for your reviews! As always you guys are too sweet!
I was early getting to the diner, and didn't see any of Ranger's cars in the lot, so I thought I'd go in and have a coffee while I waited for him. There was no need to text him to see how far away he was, he said he'd be there, so he'd be there, on time. Not early, not late, exactly on time. If he was a minute late, I'd worry. I opened the door to the diner, and sure enough our usual table was free, even though Ranger wasn't here. I was about three feet in through the door when I realized the place was silent and everybody was looking at me, as if waiting for something big to happen. I waved, and tried not to feel creeped out as I made for the booth. I sat down and Sandy Grossman, our usual waitress, came to the table to immediately fill my coffee.
Everybody was still staring, "Want to give me a hint?" I asked out of the side of my mouth. Sandy handed me a menu, she knew I didn't need, indicated that I should look in it, with a slight nod of her head and said, "When's he coming? I'll get his usual started."
"About five minutes," I said. She stood there with her pen poised and I read a hastily scrawled note written on an order ticket.
They think you told all your skips to jump bail so Vinnie would go bust and Ranger could buy him out."Oh for the love of crap," I said, I stood up and looked around the room, "Vinnie isn't paying me for bringing in the skips, Ranger is, and he's charging Vinnie a flat rate for all of them. Vinnie isn't losing money on this."
"You're husband is paying you?" someone said incredulously and I turned to look in the direction of the voice.
"When I do contract work for his company, yes," I said. "Yeesh."
I sat back down, and rolled my eyes, just as I saw Ranger pull into the lot, "Just get me a burger, and spicy fries," I said to Sandy, "And a big coke; get him what he always gets."
"Coming up," Sandy said.
Conversation resumed as Ranger approached the door. They wouldn't dare risk pissing him off by openly gossiping about him, at least in front of him. He dropped a kiss on top of my head before he sat down on the opposite side of the booth; I slid him Sandy's note. He read it.
"Who gave you this?" he asked.
"Sandy," I said, "I let them know that it wasn't the case. So now you know, you don't have to worry about people thinking about you're trying to take Vinnie's business, but you do have to worry about people thinking you're paying me to be your wife."
"I only paid you to be my fiancee; the wife thing you're doing for free," he said.
"You go right ahead and tell them that," I said.
"I'll pass," he said, "What's up with the Vinnie thing?"
"Mike is going to have full tox screens run on everyone because he's concerned about them being dosed at the rave. Especially considering some of them are having trouble remembering what they were doing there in the first place. That note," I tapped Sandy's note, "Has me thinking; it seems strange to me that grandma would run into trouble at the same time as Vinnie."
"So you've said," Ranger said.
"What if Vinnie is the real target? Someone is out to ruin Vinnie; we know he's in trouble somehow because of Joe's video. What if Grandma was just to distract us from what's going on with Vinnie? It's not a secret that I would stick my neck out to save Vinnie if I had to. And it's probably no secret that I've roped you into helping me help Vinnie. If you don't want us on your back, you're going to need a way to distract us, and anyone knows that if I have to choose between making sure Grandma is okay and dealing with Vinnie, I'm going to side with grandma."
"Here's another thing to consider," Ranger said, "Edna has a very solid alibi for the murders, considering she was in detention in Princeton at the time. That she was picked up was pure chance. If she hadn't been picked up, it would take some time to prove she wasn't involved in Wylitt's murder."
"Do you believe there is a connection?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"So let's do the unthinkable, and switch our focus to who might have a grudge against Vinnie," I said.
Ranger grinned, "Should we start with family, or employees first?"
"Okay, let's start with family! You're family now; are you fucking with him for sport?"
Ranger blinked at that, "That's something I didn't consider when I married you."
"Yeah, well it's too late. We've consummated the marriage too many times to have it annulled and you don't have time for a messy divorce."
"Why would it be messy?" Ranger asked, laughing.
"If you dropped me because of Vinnie, I'd make your life hell," I said, "I know how to too. I know all the right people to call, starting with Lester. He likes me more than he likes you, and I'd be able to hire him to help me run my bonds office, after I got half your shit. Naturally I'd buy out Vinnie, because he'd have to pay for ruining us, by existing. Les could be the new you. I'd get Bobby in the divorce as well, definitely Hal and Cal... probably Hector too, since he still feels bad about the whole letting me get kidnapped thing. So that's a bunch of Rangeman's talent, which I would need to come close to replacing your skills. You'd lose a bunch of time and money replacing them. Then there's your family to contend with, because I'd get Lester to whisper a word in your grandmother's ear."
Ranger grinned, "You're right, I don't have time for that."
"Easier to stay married," I said with a shrug, "Also, the sex is decent."
"Now you're just baiting me," Ranger said.
"Maybe a little," I grinned back at him, as our food arrived, "As much as I don't want to start digging into Vinnie's dirty little secrets, because honestly I really don't want to know, I don't want to pass this off on Mini; I don't want to damage his innocent psyche."
Ranger snorted, "Carlos is far from innocent, but you're right, he doesn't need those kinds of nightmares."
"We're going to have to speak to Joyce," I said, and shuddered, "She's going to know more about Vinnie than Lucile does."
"Let me know when you're going to do that; I'll sell tickets."
Our food arrived and Ranger handed me a report. It was the preliminary ballistics report on our recovered slug. I read it twice to make sure I was understanding it correctly. There was definitely something wonky about the slug, but according to Ranger's expert, it wasn't even as damaged as the slugs Ranger shot into the foam. He was trying to replicate the results in the lab, but the round had definitely not been fired twice.
"So not Chimera's MO then, but now we are back to the problem we had before. How does a bullet that's a definite match to grandma's gun, get fired into a person when the gun is locked away as evidence in Princeton?"
"The CSI experience that doesn't exist anymore," Ranger said.
"Any news on that front?"
"Not yet," he said.
"I'll go talk to Grandma again after lunch; maybe she can tell me something, anything about what they did on that particular adventure ."
—
Ranger and I finished our lunch and after kissing me goodbye in the parking lot, and getting me all hot and bothered in the process, and then saying, "How's that for 'decent'?"
I pulled myself together and went back to the Bonds Office to see if Lula wanted to come hang out with grandma and I.
"Why?" Connie asked, when I phrased it just like that.
"Because Grandma's been having a shitty week and Lula cheers her up."
"Your ass, that's why you want me comin' wit you," Lula said, "You're afraid your mama is gonna still be all over your ass for eloping and lyin' to her about it. You know she won't say nuthin' with me there."
"Yes," I said, "That's exactly why; I need a human shield." Unfortunately I agreed to that reasoning far too quickly for Connie, who went squinty eyed at me.
"Yeah, that's definitely not the reason," she said, "What gives Plum?"
"Nothing! I'm just looking for someone to run interference between me and…"
"Nuh huh," Lula said, "I'm with Connie on this; you ain't getting out of here unless you tell us."
I turned to walk out to my car when Lula unclipped the strap from my messenger bag and yanked the bag away from me. She tossed it to Connie who promptly locked it in the filing drawer of her desk.
"You both suck," I said. I couldn't even call Ranger for back up, because my phone was in the bag. Note to self, get a gigantic purse that holds all my crap but can't easily be stollen that way again. Maybe start padlocking it to my bra strap for good measure. "Fine, mom is planning a party for me and Ranger, in June sometime. I need to speak to grandma without mom hovering, and I figured she and Lula could fight over plans."
"Why didn't you just say that?" Lula asked, getting off of the couch and reaching for her handbag.
"Because, you're a crappy actress, and if you know what's going to happen going in, mom's going to know that I brought you as a distraction."
"Like hell I'm a crappy actress! I can act the shit out of anything you want me to," Lula said. Connie and I both gave her almost identical 'bitch please' looks, "It's true! When I was a ho, I had to role play all the time, and I had to make men believe I wasn't bored with they tired ass shit."
"Women are born with the ability to convincingly fake an orgasm," Connie said, "That doesn't count."
"Besides," I added, "If men needed a true dramaturgical experience when they had wood, pornos would have way better acting."
"Drama…what?" Connie said.
"It means theatrical," I said.
"Why not say that?"
"Got a word of the day app in Florida and I've been waiting for an opportunity to use one of the words from it."
"How bored were you?" Connie asked.
"Very," I said, "I told you when I called, people hated me and didn't want to speak to me. I took Pilates, and got a bunch of new apps on my phone. Bad Piggies, is addictive, though Ranger kicks my ass at it and it pisses me off. I mean I put in hours in that game and he can just figure out a level in like two seconds. It's not fair."
"I just don't see Ranger playing games on his phone," Connie said.
"Turns out, he's human and gets bored. Sometimes when he's standing there, looking like he's endlessly texting, he's actually playing Tetris."
"Well that kind of destroys a bit of the…" Connie made vague gesture with her hand.
"Not really, considering it's just a stop gap until he either gets to shoot someone, have sex, or go to the gym to beat the shit out his men, in what he calls a sparring session," I said. I looked at Lula, "Are you coming with me or not?"
"We both are," Connie said, "I'll forward my phone. I'll tell your mom that you told us that you were here talking about the party and we felt, since you gypped us out of being bridesmaids, we should get say." Connie reached into her filing cabinet and pulled out a massive black leather binder.
"What is that?"
"Never you mind," Connie said. She forwarded the phones, and we locked up the Bonds Office, piled into my Range Rover, and cruised over to my mother's. When we got there mom was waiting by the door, as usual, looking slightly bemused by the presence of Connie and Lula.
"Has something happened? About mother?" She asked without saying hello.
"Nope," I said.
Connie pushed in front of me and held up the black leather binder, "She said you were planning a reception; I thought you could use some help."
My mother's eyes lit up like she was being faced with the holy grail, or the Shroud or Turin, or a store wide 90% off sale at Macy's. "Is that..?"
"It is," Connie said, "I got it from my mom when Steph told me she and Ranger were getting married."
"Come in! Come in!"
She stood aside and let Connie and Lula troop in passed her, forgetting I was there completely. As soon as they were inside she let the door go and followed them. The springs in the screen door must have recently been replaced because the door snapped shut more quickly than usual, before I was half way through it, snagging my shoe between the door and the frame. It was enough to send me diving through the entrance, and directly into the nearest wall, and a hatrack, holding about five of dad's coats, but no actual hats. I reached out to grab it for support, which only resulted in the hat rack nailing a shelf and sending the shelf's contents flying, and I went to the floor anyway.
By the time I righted myself, and returned everything to it's previous position, mom and the girls were already in the kitchen, and deep into the binder. Coffee had been served and they were happily munching on a plate of cookies, and discussing floral arrangements for outdoor wedding receptions. Missing from this quorum, was grandma, which was a bit strange.
"Where's grandma?" I asked.
"She's upstairs in her room playing on her Computer," mom said. She tore her eyes away from the binder and brought her attention to me, "She's more upset about this business than she's letting on." I'd like to say the tone conveyed concern, and it did, a little, but it was more accusatory than it was compassionate. She called me back to New Jersey to fix things, and I'd apparently done a half assed job of it, because grandma was not back to normal.
"I'll go talk to her," I said. I went upstairs to Val's old room, which was now Grandma's room.
When I was little I hated Val's room; it was always perfect, her ruffled bedskirt and curtains were never crooked or wrinkled. Her wall paper pristine, no poster had torn holes in it. It was the perfect girl next door experience. My room however, while always spotless, because otherwise mom would have a stroke, did have tears in the wall paper, that I covered up with posters of super heroes, ninja turtles and rock bands. I had even gone to the movie theatre once and managed to score one of those life sized cardboard cutouts of the Ghostbusters. I nailed it to my bedroom wall to patch a hole in the drywall from a failed attempt to backflip off of my bed. Val's room looked magazine perfect, mine looked lived in.
Grandma had put her own stamp on the place. It was what you would expect from an 80 something year old woman with it's perfectly made bed, and the requisite number of doilies and crocheted blankets. Then in the corner of the room, stood gamer heaven, a docking station for her laptop and two twenty inch monitors that allowed her to do whatever the hell she was doing at that particular moment. It looked like she was killing zombies.
I knew that on the wall, behind the door, where mom wouldn't see it when she poked her head in, was a poster of some male model, wearing nothing but a Santa Hat over his pride (a gift from Lula). I knocked on her open door, and she turned.
"Hey Cookie, what are you doing here?" she asked.
"I came to ask you some questions," I said, "And to see how you're holding up?"
"'I'm okay; I didn't know him very long and a lot of my friends have died. I've sort of gotten used to it."
"He was pretty young though," I said.
"Maybe that's why it's bumming me out so much," she said.
"Maybe it's the fact that you're a widow for the second time in your life, and that's gotta suck no matter how you slice it," I said, sitting down on her bed with a flop.
She shrugged, "Maybe," she said, "Maybe he just made me feel young."
"Hey, I learned something about him today! I know why his stage name was Merlin."
"Oh?" Grandma said.
"Wylitt is believed to be one of the possible last names of the legendary Merlin. Probably he knew that, and his family was proud of that fact."
"Well isn't that something?" she said with a weak smile, "I was married to a descendant of Merlin."
"Pretty damn cool if you ask me," I said, "When are they releasing the body?"
"Don't know," Grandma said, "Still waiting for the autopsy to be finished. You know, when you watch those shows, they make it seem like everything gets done overnight. I thought they were dragging their heels with Merlin, but according to Joseph, it's taking a long time because they are really backed up. He says Merlin is priority, but it's still gonna take a while. I'm of half a mind to sue CSI, on accounta what they show is misleading. Make me a million bucks." It was a bad, but attempt at gallows humour, so I smiled.
"Can you tell me about the CSI thing you did?" I asked.
"Well, let me see, we were given a choice when we got there, we could do fingerprints, we could do DNA or we could do ballistics, and I thought, seeing as I have a gun and all, why not do ballistics?"
"What did you do during these experiments?" I asked.
"Well we shot the gun into a lot of what they called 'mediums', so we could see what the bullet all looked like after hitting different things, and then they did this thing, where they made a cast of the barrel of my gun, and then they did this neat thing where they scanned the cast into the computer, and they showed us exactly what it looked like."
"Why did they do that?" I asked. I'd never heard of that being done before.
"Well I asked them that too, and they said it's because it's important for the evidence right? Our instructor told us that over time because people don't clean their guns, and grit gets in them, natural wear, that sort of thing, causes the ballistic imprint to change. So he said that periodically the cops submit their guns for this sort of scan, so if something happens they don't have to worry about the bullets in a body not matching a gun's ballistics on record and having it look like a cop tampered with evidence or something."
"Huh," I said, I honestly had no idea if that was true or not, and it sounded plausible, except for one tiny little detail, I didn't know a police department that wasn't underfunded and that seemed like a rather costly thing to do. Especially when you could simply take the weapon and fire it under controlled circumstances and compare the bullets to the one recovered from the body. It seemed more likely that they were trying to find a way to duplicate grandma's gun.
"It was all very fun," Grandma said, "Merlin thought it was a hoot too; he asked our instructor lots of questions. Not just about ballistics, but like evidence in general."
"What specifically was he concerned about?" I asked.
"He was asking how good evidence was if it was from an anonymous source."
"Like could it be admissible in court?" I asked.
"Yeah," she said.
"Did he ask anything else?"
"Umm, not that I remember, except there was one thing that was a little weird. He said he had a friend trying to get custody of a kid, he was pretty sure was the friend's, but the kid wasn't born yet and the woman was in jail. He wanted to know if there was a way to do a paternity test before the baby was born, and if there was, could they make the mother do it."
"What did he say?"
"He said it wasn't really his area of expertise; he was just firearms, not DNA, that was another guy. I told Merlin we could go to the DNA lab bit too if he wanted, but the instructor told us that they were closing for the day, and said we could come back another time."
"So what happened to all of your test results from your ballistics stuff?" I asked.
"They told me that if I wanted to they could add the information to the national database, and I told them to go to hell. So they laughed and said that they would dispose of everything properly."
"Was there anything strange about that day?" I asked. Grandma sucked her dentures for a minute and for just a flash, I thought I saw something, I don't know if it was anger, or sadness, or what it was, but it was there and she covered it quickly. It was so ungrandma like that it really caught my attention. Grandma hasn't held anything back for so long, that I forgot that while she didn't quite do the guilt thing my mother did, that her attitude now was nothing like it was when I was a kid. Once upon a time, Grandma was just as much a stereotypical housewife as my mother was, as my sister wanted to be, and that meant she suppressed the emotions so nobody was allowed to see when she was angry or hurt. Especially her grandchildren.
"No," she said a little more firmly than was strictly necessary. She was totally lying to me. "He was the way he had been every night since we met. We were talking about getting dressed up for that Super Hero Convention where we found your present."
"Did you dress up?" I asked, grinning. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through some pictures and then handed me the thing. There was Merlin, in a blonde cropped wig, fur loincloth, leather suspenders, and calf height fur covered boots. He actually made a pretty excellent He-Man. Grandma as She-Ra, looked like she was being weighed down by the gold head-dress and the little white outfit was about a size and a half too big, but she was smiling broadly in the picture as she tried to hoist the Sword or Protection (She-Ra's totally boss weapon) over her head, with the assistance of her indulgently smiling He-Man. They looked genuinely happy together and it made me more determined to figure out what the hell was going on.
"I'm sorry I didn't get to meet him. He looks like he was a really cool guy," I said.
"He was," Grandma said, her smile sad, "So how were you able to get passed your mother, without her bitching at you?"
"She's distracted with plans for the probably horrendous wedding reception she's throwing for Ranger and I," I said.
"If you wanted a big party, you wouldn't have eloped," Grandma said with a big ole New Jersey eye roll.
"She's punishing me for lying to her," I said and flopped onto my back, horizontally across grandma's single bed, so my head was hanging over the other side.
"Want to tell me what happened to change your minds about making it real?" Grandma asked. She walked over and eased herself down onto the bed beside me. She was probably too old to flop, but she did lie down and hang her head beside mine. She was too subdued, and it reminded me a lot of the way she was after grandpa died.
I gave her hand a squeeze, "I want to tell you, but if it's too much right now, it can wait."
"No, I want to hear," Grandma said. So I told her. I told her more than I had told anyone else. I told her about when I realized that Ranger wanted me to stay. I told her about Joe being an ass and trying to fuck things up with Ranger and I, and I told her about me losing my shit with Ranger because he told me the smart thing would be to fix things with Joe. His second proposal to me in a week, and how it startled the hell out of me. Then his real proposal on the boardwalk before he and Joe got into it. I told her about the wedding, and she laughed at the idea of Lunch Box, acting as best man. Then I voiced the one thing that had been really bothering me, and that was mostly because I was neurotic.
"Is it supposed to be easy?" I asked, "Because it's easy, and I would have thought being married to Ranger would be, I dunno… Different. I keep waiting for a flaw, something to bitch about like other married women do, and aside from the fact that he treats mayonnaise like the antichrist, there's nothing and it's freaking me out."
She was quiet for a long time, and I turned, wondering if she'd fallen asleep during my rambling, she wasn't, she was just thinking. "Things might have been more predictable with Joseph, but you would have been bored, and then you would have settled into things and forgotten who you are. You did the right thing by marrying Ranger."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience," I said, teasing her. Grandma looked at me and blinked as if suddenly remembering I was in the room, or as though she hadn't meant to say what she said out loud.
"Do you think if I had a chance to get with a studmuffin like that, I'd have turned it down?" she said, "you know why you and Ranger aren't butting heads? It's because between the two of you, you've seen too much to sweat the small stuff. You know there are bigger stakes, and sniping over who's turn it is to load the dishwasher just isn't going to be something you do."
"You're probably right," I said, "Well, I should go downstairs, Connie's brought some binder that made mom have an out of body experience. If i'm not careful I'll be going to this party dressed like a wedding cake."
"Connie is here with a binder? It's probably the Maestri Family Wedding Planning Bible. Their family always has the best weddings, and it doesn't matter what kind. If there's a problem that can pop up during planning or on the actual day, the solution, or the person who can fix the problem, is in that book. Connie's mother's mother was a Maestri, so she would have a copy of the book. Your mother is probably in heaven."
—-
I left Connie and Lula with mom (they barely acknowledged me when I told them I was leaving, other than to say they would get an Uber) so I cruised back to Rangeman, with the information grandma had given me. I didn't, however go to the apartment, but rather, went to five and knocked on Ranger's office door, and stuck my head in when he said "Yes."
"I'm back," I said.
"I saw that," he said shortly, and nodded towards the Monitor behind him. Babe TV was up and running, but he seemed engrossed in his work, so I was surprised that he'd even been paying attention to it.
"Well, I thought I'd let you know, just in case," I said, "Didn't mean to interrupt. I'm going to my desk for a bit, I'll leave you to this."
He had a file open on his desk, and opened to a page that looked like it had a lot of math on it. There were notes on the pages in his handwriting, all of them with a question mark at then end. He had a couple of reference books open, and he was staring intently at his computer screen, adding more notes to the math, as he did.
"Not necessary," he said, and turned away from his computer, "Did you get anything from Edna."
"If you're busy it can wait," I said, "I have some things I want to follow up on my computer anyway."
"I'm looking at a ballistics report that doesn't make sense," he said, "So I'm hoping something your grandmother said is going to fill in some gaps."
"They made a mould of the inside of her gun barrel," I said and repeated grandma's story.
"That would be a waste of time, and resources," Ranger said.
"It's cheaper just to fire the gun right?" I said. Ranger nodded.
"Does that help you at all?"
"No, not yet at least," he said, "Edna said that Wylitt was interested in DNA analysis?"
"That's what she said," I said, "Specifically, paternity. My thing is, why wouldn't he or his friend just call one of the labs that tests paternity to ask? It can't cost anything to ask, so it's not a money thing."
"Didn't want to risk there being a record of his call to the lab anywhere," Ranger said, with a shrug, "The man has to have skeletons in his closet, and someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to cover them up. He's not in any sort of federal protection program, or we'd have heard by now, and everything looks legitimate so far."
"What's up with the advanced math?" I asked, nodding to the file on his desk.
"Nothing that makes any sense," Ranger said, "And frankly it's pissing me off."
"Because you're secretly really shitty at math, and you're doing it wrong, or because you aren't getting the results you want?"
"I'm not shitty at math, and even if I were, these calculations are fairly simple," Ranger said, "I know the math is absolutely correct, but reality is proving to being difficult."
"How so?"
"Do you get why there's rifling inside the barrel of a gun?" Ranger asked.
"Of course I know," I lied, "But let's pretend I don't."
"It's for accuracy," Ranger said, with a smile. He knew I wasn't a ballistics expert, but he also knew I found him sexy when he explained stuff. "It's basically the same idea as throwing a football. Throw a football without putting spin on it, and it doesn't go very far, and tumbles all over the place. Put a little spin on it, and it goes farther. Put a lot of spin on it, and it goes much farther and with much more accuracy. The same principal applies to bullets. The rifling in the barrel of a gun is what puts the spin on the bullet. The higher the velocity the greater the spin, the straighter the bullet flies, the farther it goes, the deeper the impact into the target. In the case of full metal jackets, this can mean the bullet goes straight through whoever you're firing the bullet at. This isn't always ideal, because it's not going to cause enough damage to do much if you're using a smaller calibre of bullet, so that's why we have things like hollow points. They form a mushroom shape on impact, and it does more damage inside, and I'll spare you the details of that."
"Thanks," I said.
"A .357 Magnum round leaves the chamber at a very high velocity, and unless it was slowed dramatically by something, it should have easily passed through that cheep sofa, and lodged into the floor."
"Well what if the reason it wasn't that deep into the couch was because it went through Wylitt first."
"There would have been more damage to the bullet and we would have found traces of human blood or tissue on it. All we've found so far is an as yet unidentified residue, and anything that would slow the bullet down enough to account for it's position in the sofa, would have stopped the rotation on the bullet, so the entry wouldn't have been that clean."
"So what would account for it's lack of penetration?"
"Distance," Ranger said.
"How much distance?"
"Let's put it this way, a round from a 357 can go through a dear at fifty yards away," Ranger said.
"Yeah, that living room wasn't that big," I said.
"From the angle of penetration, he would have had to be standing on something very high, and he would have had to shoot through a wall to do it," Ranger said.
"Is it possible the bullet is old?" I thought maybe they had been using the sofa for target practice or something. Ranger shot that idea down with a simple...
"Nope," Ranger said, "We've been trying everything we can think of to slow the bullet, causing minimal damage to the slug, when fired from the same model gun as your grandmother's and we're coming up dry."
"Joe said there was something weird with the bullets in his ballistics report, maybe they are having the same problems?"
"Maybe."
"Can I ask you a question?" I said. He nodded, "How accurate is a ballistic fingerprint?"
"There is always going to be variability in the results, two bullets fired in rapid succession are going to have a better match than say two bullets fired from an active weapon, ten years apart. Wear on the barrel, time, how often the weapon is cleaned, all change the striations on the bullets."
"Is it possible to get a false match?" I asked. He nodded.
"They don't make a new mould for each gun, so two guns from the same lot, can leave similar ballistic fingerprints," Ranger said.
"So it's possible someone used a gun that was made the same year as grandma's and it's just a coincidence," I said.
"To kill her husband?" he said, "That's a little too much of a coincidence. I'd like to know how exact the match is, before I'd accept that. What is your next step?"
"I'm going to talk to Vinnie," I said, "And probably Joyce."
"Leave your gun at home," Ranger said. Well that was probably one of the more shocking things he'd said to me in a while. I don't think he's ever asked me to go anywhere unarmed before. He's usually surprised and a little irritated that I go anywhere without my gun.
"I'm sorry, I think I had a stroke. Did you say leave my gun at home?"
"If you have to kill her, use a weapon of opportunity, that way we only have to clean up trace evidence. I don't have time to properly dispose of a weapon today," he said.
"Ha. Ha." I said, "I'm going to look to see what Minnie has on Wylitt, and then I'm going to talk to Vinnie and Joyce. Want me to pick up dinner?"
"Ella is making chilli, for dinner," he said, "You might want to grab some beer."
