Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(70)

“I was lucky. I went early. Even going early I didn’t get the best seat, but I still did pretty good. From what I saw there weren’t any Bogarts there. I think there might have been a couple people the Bogart Bar man worked with, but I didn’t know any of them. I heard the clown was there, but I didn’t see him personally.”

“Was he dressed in his clown suit?” Lula asked.

“No, but you always know the clown by his red nose. The greasepaint doesn’t come off,” Grandma said. “Everybody was talking about it. You see the clown going around in his Jolly truck, and you never think of the hardships of the job.”

So if I want to find the guy who tried to kill me, all I have to do is find a guy with a red nose. I know Stan Ducker’s shoe size was wrong, but until I find a second red nose he isn’t off my list.

We left my parents’ house a little before seven o’clock. Sadie’s Steak House had a small parking lot, but there was on-the-street parking for the overflow. I drove up and down Liberty and through the lot but didn’t see the black Mercedes. I dropped Lula off, and I circled the block while she went inside. I picked her up minutes later, and she said Kwan and his boyfriends were about to leave. I double-parked in the lot and watched the black Mercedes glide down the street, pick the men up, and glide away.

“I bet he’s going home,” Lula said. “He lives in one of them fancy high-rises. How are you going to get him once he gets in there?”

“According to his profile he lives alone. I’ll knock on his door, and if he doesn’t cooperate you can tackle him and sit on him, and I’ll cuff him.”

“That sounds like a plan.”

I followed the Mercedes to a complex of high-rises by the river. I held back and cut my lights when the Mercedes stopped at one of the buildings. Kwan got out. The three young men got out. The Mercedes drove off, and the four men went into the building.

“Oops,” Lula said. “He might live alone, but he don’t party alone. I bet these dudes are getting a bonus in their paycheck this week.”

“They could all live in the building.”

“You gonna go knock on his door to find out?”

“No. I’m going home.”

I had my gun in my hand when I got out of my car. I walked to the back door to my apartment building, practicing vigilance. I took the stairs, careful to listen for other footsteps. I walked down my hall, unlocked my door, and pushed it open, pausing for a moment before going inside. I stepped in, locked my door with all my locks, and cleared my apartment. I returned to the kitchen to say hello to Rex and give him a walnut. I put the gun on the counter in plain sight. I got a beer out of the fridge and rolled it across my forehead. I had the beginnings of a headache. Didn’t get a lot of sleep at Disney, and it was catching up to me.

I called Ranger to see if he’d made any progress.

“I have Harry Bogart and his wife and daughter locked away in a safe house,” he said. “I have the documents I wanted from him, but they haven’t told me much. I have someone working on it, tracing through offshore holding companies. I have someone watching Soon. And I spoke to Bogart about drugs in his Kidz Kups. He swears he knows nothing about the drugs, but he knows there’s theft from the storeroom. It was one of the reasons he wanted the locks changed and the cameras installed. He went pale when I suggested they might be shipping drugs on his trucks, packaged up like ice cream.”

“Do you think that’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I wanted to throw it out to see his reaction. I think it’s possible. It would make the company valuable to a big-time dealer.”

I ended the call with Ranger and dialed Morelli. He was on a night-shift rotation, and I was sent straight to voicemail. I told him I was simply checking in. Just as well. I needed some time to come to terms with my Disney epiphany. Truth is, my relationship with Morelli was probably okay. It didn’t really matter that we weren’t engaged to be engaged right now. We cared about each other. We enjoyed being together. And maybe sometime in the future we’d move forward with the marriage and family thing. End of discussion.

I went to bed early with my gun on my nightstand. It seemed like the sensible thing to do, but I wasn’t entirely comfortable. My fear was that the clown would break in, I wouldn’t wake up, and the clown would shoot me with my own gun.

I woke up relieved that I’d gotten through the night and was still alive without any additional holes. I rushed through my morning routine and was out of my apartment by seven-thirty. By eight o’clock I was in the parking lot at Kwan’s condo building, waiting for him to appear.

The black Mercedes drove up at eight forty-five. Kwan and his three buddies stepped out of the building at nine o’clock and got into the Mercedes. I followed the car to Stark Street and watched everyone file into the travel office building.

I could have slept later. This was a bust.

Connie was on the floor of the bail bonds office when I walked in.

“What’s with this?” I asked.

“She threw her back out,” Lula said. “She was in her chair, bent over, touching up her toenail polish, and her back went out. So here she is on the floor, and she can’t get up. You think I should call someone?”

“I just need a moment,” Connie said.

“You wanted a moment a half hour ago,” Lula told her. “How long are you gonna lay there?”