Two for the Dough Read Online Free

similar radio in my Jeep, and I was struggling to learn the police codes. Like all other cops I knew, Morelli listened unconsciously, miraculously processing the garbled information.
    He turned out of the campus, and I asked the inevitable question. “Now what?”
    “You’re the one with the instincts. You tell me.”
    “My instincts aren’t doing a lot for me this morning.”
    “Okay, then let’s run down what we have. What do we know about Kenny?”
    After last night we knew he was a premature ejaculator, but that probably wasn’t what Morelli wanted to hear. “Local boy, high school graduate, enlisted in the army, got out four months ago. Still unemployed, but obviously not hurting for money. For unknown reasons he decided to shoot his friend Moogey Bues in the knee. He got caught in the process by an off-duty cop. He had no priors and was released on bond. He violated his bond contract and stole a car.”
    “Wrong. He borrowed a car. He just hasn’t gotten around to returning it yet.”
    “You think that’s significant?”
    Morelli stopped for a light. “Maybe something happened to change his plans.”
    “Like acing ol’ Moogey.”
    “Julia said Kenny was afraid someone was after him.”
    “Leo’s father?”
    “You’re not taking this seriously,” Morelli said.
    “I’m taking it very seriously. I’m just not coming up with much, and I don’t notice you sharing a lot of your thoughts with me. For instance, who do you think is after Kenny?”
    “When Kenny and Moogey were questioned about the shooting they both said it was over a personal issue and wouldn’t discuss it. Maybe they had some bad business going on.”
    “And?”
    “And that’s it. That’s what I think.”
    I stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if he was holding out on me. Probably he was, but there was no way to tell for sure. “Okay,” I finally said on a sigh, “I have a list of Kenny’s friends. I’m going to run through it.”
    “Where’d you get this list?”
    “Privileged information.”
    Morelli looked pained. “You broke into his apartment and stole his little black book.”
    “I didn’t steal it. I copied it.”
    “I don’t want to hear any of this.” He glanced down at my pocketbook. “You’re not carrying concealed, are you?”
    “Who, me?”
    “Shit,” Morelli said. “I must be crazy to team up with you.”
    “It was your idea!”
    “Want me to help with the list?”
    “No.” I figured that might be like giving a lottery ticket to your neighbor and having him win the jackpot on it.
    Morelli parked behind my Jeep. “There’s something I need to tell you before you leave.”
    “Yes?”
    “I hate those shoes you’re wearing.”
    “Anything else?”
    “I’m sorry about your tire last night.”
    Yeah, right.

    By five o’clock I was cold and wet, but had gotten through the list. I’d done a combination of phone calls and face-to-faces, and had netted very little. Most of the people were from the burg and had known Kenny all of his life. No one admitted to having contact with him after his arrest, and I had no reason to suspect they were lying. No one knew of any business deals or personal problems between Kenny and Moogey. Several people testified to Kenny’s volatile personality and wheeler-dealer mentality. These comments were interesting, but too general to be really helpful. A few conversations had long, pregnant pauses that made me uncomfortable, wondering what was left unsaid.
    As my last effort of the day I’d decided to check Kenny’s apartment again. The super had let me in two days before when he’d been temporarily confused as to my law enforcement affiliation. I’d surreptitiously lifted a spare key while admiring the kitchen, and now I could tippy-toe around whenever I wanted. The legality of this was a tad gray, but it would only be bothersome if I got caught.
    Kenny lived just off Route 1 in a large apartment complex named Oak Hill. Since there were no hills or