Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(46)

“Do you think he saw us?”

“He saw something, but I don’t think he recognized us. It was pitch-black, and we were against the house.”

I dropped Lula off and drove home on autopilot. My cellphone rang when I pulled into my parking lot.

“Babe,” Ranger said. “Your car has been in Pennsylvania all afternoon, but your messenger bag has been all over the place.”

“I got a new car. The old one was leaking stuff.”

“Who were you visiting in the Burg?”

“Butchy from the loading dock. Turns out he’s got a large chest freezer and a collection of what I suspect are hijacked shoes, toaster ovens, and microwaves in his garage. And he’s got a gun in his kitchen drawer.”

“And the bar in north Trenton?”

“I was socializing with Kenny Morris. He’s very angry.”

“Does he have a gun and a freezer?”

“Don’t know. It didn’t come up in conversation. I suspect he has a freezer because he lives at home, and his father owns an ice cream factory. Do I have an assignment for Monday?”

“I’d like you at the Bogart factory. It’ll be your last day there. I have technicians working today, and on Tuesday I’ll have the cameras up and running.”

“There’s no way I’m getting back into the clown suit.”

“I’ll work around it.”

I said good night to Ranger and trudged into my apartment building and up the stairs to my apartment. Morelli was asleep on my couch. Bob was asleep on the floor beside him. Bob opened an eye and looked at me and went back to sleep. Morelli woke up and took a couple beats to focus.

“And?” he asked.

“Butchy from the loading dock has a gun.”

“Cupcake, everyone you know has a gun.” He sat up and squinted at me. “Your nose is red.”





TWENTY


MONDAY MORNING I presented myself at the ice cream factory and was assigned to the floor. I was back at the cup dropper and filler machine. I felt comfortable doing this since it had a big red button.

Three Rangeman techs were on the floor adjusting and programming the newly installed cameras. Their purpose was to keep everyone safe, but I suspected their presence was a constant reminder of danger.

I was relieved at ten-thirty, and I went to the break room for coffee. Three women were at one table, and two were at another. I didn’t know any of them. No one looked up and invited me to join them. The atmosphere in the room was subdued. Two murders and an explosion were taking a toll. Things were no longer so jolly. I got coffee and a candy bar and sat by myself. I didn’t want to intrude on the women, and I didn’t think they would tell me anything useful.

Bogart’s assistant, Kathy, found me and told me I was being reassigned to the loading dock. A truck needed loading and they were short a man.

I stripped off my yellow floor outfit and stuffed it into my locker, checked my email, grabbed my sweatshirt, and made my way to the loading dock.

Butchy was packing a small truck with shrink-wrapped orders of assorted ice cream. He stopped packing and ambled over when he saw me.

“I’m guessing you’re my helper,” he said. “Play your cards right and you might get to be foreman, being that I don’t want this job.”

“Why don’t you want the job?”

“Too much work. I’m an easygoing guy. I’m a responsibility shirker.”

“But for now you’re the foreman?”

“Looks that way. I got Noodles helping me load this truck, and when it gets loaded there’s a big rig coming in. Meantime, I need someone to load the Jolly junker over there by the guardhouse.”

I looked toward the guardhouse and saw the old, rust-riddled, faded-glory Jolly Bogart truck.

“We pulled her out of retirement,” Butchy said. “Bogart had her sitting on a hill looking out at Route 1 for the past ten years. Like an antique billboard. We put a new battery in her, and damned if she doesn’t still run. There were some squirrels living in her, but we cleaned it all up except for the one seat that’s a little chewed.”

“Who’s driving it?”

“Stan’s driving it.”

“Does he know this?”

“I didn’t talk to him personally, but someone told him to come to work, so I guess he got it figured out.”

Oh boy.

“Anyway,” Butchy said. “We gotta get the old girl filled with Kidz Kups and Bogart Bars.”

“I’m not going to get locked in the freezer, am I?”

“Hard to tell around here what’s gonna happen next.”

I grabbed the hand truck and pushed it down the hall to the freezer. I punched the code in, and propped the door open with the hand truck. A lot of frigid air was rushing out of the freezer, but I didn’t care. I was taking precautions. I loaded the hand truck and exited the freezer. The door closed with a click behind me, and I gave an involuntary shudder.

I had the Jolly truck almost filled when Stan burst out of the loading dock door. He wasn’t in his clown suit, but his nose was bright red and his hair was every which way. He was waving his arms, and his eyes were bugged out of his head.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” he yelled. “Goddamn, motherfucker, holy shit, and fuck me. Where is it? Where’s the piece-of-shit truck they dragged out of hell to make my life an even worse misery?”