“What’s up?” Morelli asked, eyes on me.

Okay, so I was no longer interested in Morelli. At least I was pretty sure I wasn’t interested. Still, I was wishing I’d spent more time on my hair and makeup this morning, so he’d feel really rotten about what he was missing. I have naturally curly shoulder-length brown hair that was currently pulled back into a ponytail. I have blue eyes that look a lot better when they have a swipe of liner and mascara, an okay mouth that so far hasn’t needed artificial plumping, and a little nose that I consider my best feature. Morelli always thought my best feature was located considerably lower on my body.

“It was horrible! It was terrible!” Lula said. “I almost fainted.”

Morelli shifted his attention to Lula. He didn’t say anything, but he looked over at her and raised his eyebrows a little.

“I never saw nothin’ like it,” Lula told him. “One minute, I was having a day like any other, and then whack and this guy didn’t have no head. And blood came out of him like he was a fountain. And when his head hit the ground, his eyes were lookin’ at me. And I think the head might have smiled at me, too, but I’m not sure of that.”

Morelli was back on his heels, thumbs hooked into his jeans pockets. “Is this for real?”

“Hell yeah,” Lula said. “Who makes up shit like that? Don’t I look traumatized? I’m practically turned white. I think my hand might even be shaking. Look at my hand. Is it shaking?”

Morelli’s eyes cut back to me. “Were you with her?”

“Nope.”

“Did anyone call 911?”

“Nope.”

Lula was hands on hips, starting to look pissed. “We called you,” she said to Morelli.

Morelli did a fast office scan. “You don’t have the head here, do you?”

“So far as I know, the head and everything else is still in front of the Sunshine Hotel,” Lula told him. “And I’m not sure I like your attitude. I’m not sure you’re takin’ this seriously.”