Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(65)

“Do you have anything to put in this?”

“You mean like bullets? No. I keep meaning to buy some.”

He dropped the gun into my messenger bag, we stepped out of my apartment, and he watched me lock my door.

“Here’s a problem,” he said. “You have three locks plus a slide bolt on the inside of your door. It keeps you relatively secure. From this side of the door you have just one lock. It’s a good bump-proof lock, but it’s still only one lock, and someone skilled can open it. I’m guessing that when Morelli left you didn’t follow him to the door to secure all your locks.”

I nodded. “You’re right. I didn’t do that.”

“When you enter your apartment you need to clear it the same way you would clear a house when you’re looking for an FTA. When you’re inside you need to use all the locks on your door. And you need to be vigilant when you’re out. You also have the option of moving into Rangeman until we get this sorted out.”

Moving in with Ranger was by far the safest way to go. Unfortunately it was also the most dangerous, because it was impossible not to fall in love with Ranger’s silky smooth 1,000-thread-count freshly ironed sheets, his perfectly made, delicious organic breakfast delivered to his kitchen by the breakfast fairy, his Bulgari shower gel and fluffy white towels. And then there was Ranger. I almost had an orgasm thinking about it. The problem with all that falling in love was that eventually it had to come to an end, and the end would be painful.





TWENTY-SEVEN


WE WENT TO the diner in Hamilton Township for breakfast. I ordered pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, scrambled eggs, rice pudding, and coffee. Ranger had black coffee.

I drenched my pancakes in butter and syrup and took some for a test-drive. “Yum!”

“It looks like you’ve recovered from your fright.”

“I’ve recovered, but I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be more careful.”

“There has to be a reason why you’re being targeted. Initially you were warned to go back to being a bounty hunter, and now someone has tried to kill you. Think about it. Someone feels threatened enough to want you eliminated. You must have seen something or heard something incriminating.”

“I can’t imagine what it might be. It would have to be something really serious to warrant killing me.”

“Killing comes easy to some people. It’s seen as a fast way to solve a problem.”

“Did you get the report on Soon?”

“He was born here but grew up and spent most of his early adult years in Hong Kong and Singapore. His parents were minor diplomats. Since returning to the States he’s been employed by several companies that ultimately failed. He was brought into these companies as a time management consultant.”

“Were any of them ice cream plants?”

“No, but they were all in New Jersey, eastern Pennsylvania, and Delaware. They all made products that were shipped locally and nationally.”

I ate my last piece of bacon and spooned into the rice pudding. “Are you thinking he might be mob?”

It was a classic mob maneuver to get their hooks into a company and then bleed it dry. Typically money is borrowed with interest compounding so quickly there’s no hope of repaying the loan. If the investment is big enough and the company can be used for mob purposes, they bring one of their own in to supervise on-site.

“It feels like mob, but we haven’t been able to tie him to anyone,” Ranger said.

“So maybe Bogart brought you in as a last resort to protect himself.”

“Most likely he wanted the cameras to collect evidence. Extricate himself by blackmailing the bad guys.”

“I’m thinking it didn’t work.”

“I’m thinking we need to talk to Mrs. Bogart.”

“Is she still at Disney?”

“Yes. The daughter’s cellphone moved to Miami, but Mrs. Bogart is still at Disney. If I can get a plane we can be there by noon.”

Ranger flies privately because everything he owns has residues of gunpowder, and he can’t get past security.

Tank drove us to the small business jet at Trenton-Mercer Airport. It’s not a big airport, but it’s convenient, especially if you have your own plane. I’ve flown once before with Ranger and, much like sleeping with him, it pretty much ruins you for the ordinary.

Tank had exchanged my gun for one with ammo, and that was the extent of my flight preparation. No time to pack mouse ears.

The plane seated eight and had two pilots. There was a small hospitality area with drinks and snacks and sandwiches for lunch. And there was a pleasant little bathroom. No TSA agents. No unhappy children. Cushy leather seats and lots of leg room. Just Ranger and me. I buckled myself in and felt like a movie star.

Tank had given Ranger a messenger bag with a MacBook Air and a stack of papers. No downtime for the man of mystery. I had plenty of downtime, and I spent it thinking about the clown and why I was a threat to someone.

Dressing as the Jolly Bogart clown would serve a couple purposes. It was a disguise. He’d be unrecognizable on camera, though if the right people looked at the video someone could probably recognize him. Someone would notice the way he walked, his height, his body build, his skin tone, his shoe size and style. I realized that I hadn’t looked at his shoes when I’d looked at the factory video. I didn’t know if he was wearing dress shoes or running shoes. I didn’t know if he was wearing gloves so he wouldn’t leave fingerprints.