Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(63)

“Booby trap,” Ranger said. “You might want to try tomato juice to cut the grease.” He hung my messenger bag on a coat hook next to my door, and he left.

“Did he tie you to the roof rack, or did he actually let you in his car?” Morelli asked.

“What are you doing here? I thought this was poker night.”

“The game broke up early so I decided to surprise you.”

“Get me a garbage bag for my clothes. I need to take a shower.”

“I could help you in the shower.”

“No! Just get me the garbage bag.”

Morelli came into the bathroom and stuffed my clothes into the garbage bag. “Explain the booby trap.”

I told him about Dottie while I soaped up. “I’ll get a big recovery fee,” I said. “She was a high bond.” I rinsed the soap out of my hair and stuck my head out from behind the shower curtain. “Take a look at my hair and tell me if it’s clean.”

Morelli got up and sniffed at my hair. “It still smells a little like bacon, but it’s not bad. Especially if you like bacon.”

I went back behind the shower curtain and shampooed my hair again. I stuck my head out. “How is it now?”

“It’s fine,” Morelli said. “If you scrub it any more it’s all going to fall out.” He pushed the shower curtain aside and did a slow appraisal. “Anything else smell like bacon? I’m getting hungry.”





TWENTY-SIX


IT WAS DARK when Morelli left my bed at five o’clock. I opened my eyes, thanked him for his help with the bacon problem, and went back to sleep. When I woke up again the room was still dark, but there was something off. The fog of sleep cleared, and I realized someone was moving in the living room. I heard the rustle of clothing and the soft scuff of a shoe. I called out to Morelli, but there was no answer.

I was wide awake now, trying to steady my heartbeat. I lay absolutely still, straining to hear another footfall. The red LED on the light switch by my bedroom door suddenly disappeared, and I knew someone was in my room, blocking the LED with his body. I was paralyzed with terror. Completely scrambled brain. I think my mouth was open, but I didn’t hear any screams coming out of it.

I heard him move toward me, saw the glint of a knife as it reflected the light from my bedside clock. I rolled to the other side of the bed and grabbed the table lamp on the nightstand. He lunged at me and I swung the lamp, smashing it against his face. I saw the knife fly out of his hand, heard it clatter against my dresser. He was very close, and I could see that it was the clown. I could smell the greasepaint on his nose and feel his breath hot against my face. He grabbed my throat, and I kicked out and must have caught him in a strategic spot because he doubled over on a gush of expelled air. I jumped away, and ran out of the room, through my apartment, and into the hall. I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor and rapped on Mrs. Delgado’s door. She lived directly above me and was an early riser. I knew she’d be up watching the morning news on television.

She came to the door, all smiles, lipstick on, dressed for the day.

“How nice,” she said. “Would you like some breakfast? Some tea?”

I was wearing bed hair, an oversized T-shirt, and panties, but Mrs. Delgado took it all in stride. She’d been through an apartment bombing, a kitchen fire, and an explosion with me, and I suppose nothing surprised her. Still, I didn’t want to start her day with a description of my near-death experience. And I especially didn’t want it to get back to my mother, who saw Mrs. Delgado in church every Sunday.

“I was h-h-hoping I could use your phone,” I said. “I have . . . a m-m-mouse in my apartment. I need to call an exterminator.”

“Of course,” she said. “There’s a phone in the kitchen. Let me make some fresh coffee.”

I called Ranger and asked if he could come clear my apartment of rodents.

There was a beat of silence. “Do these rodents have names?”

“Clowny.”

The line went dead, and I knew he was on his way.

I kept my eye on the parking lot while Mrs. Delgado made coffee. A Rangeman SUV drove into the lot four minutes later. Not Ranger’s car. The SUV pulled up to the back door, and two men in Rangeman black fatigues got out and entered my building.

“My exterminator is here,” I said to Mrs. Delgado. “I should go downstairs to let them in.”

“Would you like a robe?”

“Yes. Thank you. That would be great. I got so excited about the mouse that I just ran out of my apartment.”

“Understandable,” she said.

She went to her bedroom and returned with a pink robe. “This should do,” she said. “You wouldn’t want the exterminator to get the wrong idea.”

I shrugged into the robe and padded barefoot down the stairs to the second floor. Ranger’s men were standing at my open door. I knew one of them. His name was Calvin, and he was fairly new. I didn’t know the other.

“Ranger is on his way,” Calvin said. “Would you like us to clear your apartment of the . . . clown?”

I peeked into my apartment. No clown in sight.

“The clown has probably left,” I said, “but it would be great if you’d take a look around.”

They both drew their sidearms and moved into my apartment. I followed them in and checked to make sure Rex was unharmed. I didn’t care what else happened to my apartment as long as Rex was okay.