Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(45)

I dropped a twenty on the bar and stood. “No. We’re going to go looking for her. It’s been nice talking to you. I hope things work out.”

“He seemed okay,” Lula said. “One of them preppy individuals.”

“He’s having a personal problem.”

“Well, we all got them. What are we doing now? Are we gonna snoop around Butchy’s house?”

“Yes.”

I drove across town, keeping my eyes open for police officers who might be under the mistaken impression that I was driving a stolen vehicle. I relaxed a little when I reached the Burg without getting pulled over. Lights were off in Butchy’s house. His truck wasn’t in the driveway.

“Nobody home,” Lula said.

I parked three houses down on the opposite side of the street, and Lula and I walked back to Butchy’s house. I had a big Maglite, and Lula had her purse.

“What are we looking for?” Lula asked.

“I don’t know exactly. Evidence of chocolate syrup and chopped nuts. A huge freezer. Bloodstains.”

“The usual stuff,” Lula said.

We stood across the street in front of the house for a couple minutes and watched for movement, then crossed to the driveway and went directly to the garage. It was overcast with not even a sliver of moon showing. The garage was lost in deep shadow.

“I can’t see where I’m walking,” Lula said. “Last time we did this in the dark I stepped on a dead person. I still get nightmares.”

I had a small penlight besides the Maglite, but I didn’t want to use it in the yard. Lights were on in the houses flanking Butchy’s place. Last thing I wanted was for someone to call the police or send out a killer dog.

We circled the garage but didn’t see a way in. There were bars on the only window, and the door was locked. I took a closer look at the front of the garage and found a keypad. I tapped in 0000, and the door opened.

“Boy, you’re good,” Lula said. “I would never have figured that out.”

We stepped in, and I hit the button that closed the door. When the door was entirely closed I flipped the light switch next to the garage opener, and the garage was flooded with light.

One wall was lined with boxed microwave ovens. They were four boxes deep and seven boxes high, running the length of the garage. Large cartons of Nike shoes lined the other wall. And there was an island of toaster ovens.

“This boy has a lucrative sideline going,” Lula said.

I looked around. “I don’t see any chocolate syrup or blood.”

“No, but he has a freezer.”

I walked to the large chest freezer that was under the window on the side wall. It was about five feet long and three feet wide.

“Do you suppose he has another body in there?” Lula asked.

“It would have to be someone short.”

“Not necessarily. You could fold him up and freeze him and then when you take him out you could hit him with a hammer and straighten him out.”

“I wish you hadn’t shared that,” I said to Lula.

“Just sayin’.”

I held my breath, opened the freezer, and we looked in. It was filled with Bogart Bars.

“I’m thinking he didn’t buy all these,” Lula said.

“I’m thinking you’re right.”

I was also thinking it could be the ice cream that was removed from the truck to make room for Arnold Zigler.

I closed the lid on the freezer. We took one last look around and left the garage. We walked around the house, looking in windows, but it was too dark to see anything.

“Do you want to get in?” Lula asked. “I got a knack for getting in.”

Her knack for getting in was to break a window or door.

“No breaking in,” I said. “I don’t want him to know someone was snooping around.”

We were on the side of the house, and my heart skipped a beat when Butchy’s truck drove up. He turned into the driveway and cut the engine.

Lula and I froze, not sure if we’d been seen. I heard the driver’s door open and close, and I held my breath. I couldn’t see the driveway or the front of the house, but I heard Butchy’s footsteps. He walked from the truck to the front door, the door opened and closed, and a light flashed on in the living room. A moment later a light flashed on in the kitchen. I crept closer to the window, and I saw Butchy go to a drawer next to the sink and take out a gun.

Crap!

“Feet don’t fail me,” Lula said, and she took off running.

I turned and took off at the same time. We reached the end of the block, and ducked behind a parked car a beat before Butchy came out his front door. He looked up and down the street, walked out to the sidewalk, and looked up and down again. He wheeled around and went back inside his house.

Lula and I scurried across the street and jumped into my car. I made a U-turn and took off.

“You’ll notice how I used restraint and didn’t shoot him or nothing,” Lula said. “Only reason I ran was because I knew that’s what you wanted. Ordinarily I wouldn’t run.”

“Running was the right thing to do,” I said.

“I bet he’s the killer,” Lula said. “He’s got a freezer and a gun.”

I turned onto Broad Street. “He’s on the list.”