Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum #23)(72)

A door opened and I could hear people talking. They were walking closer. They entered the room, and my heart jumped in my chest. Kwan, Soon, the man with the red nose, and two others.

“Miss Plum,” Kwan said. “We meet again. So sad that this will be the last time, but your death will serve a good purpose.”

“Such as what?” I asked.

“It will be one more warning to Mr. Bogart. More important than that, it will allow me to continue my operation. It was unfortunate that you happened into my office when we were preparing to package happiness.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It was only a matter of time before you figured it out. You saw the Bogart Kidz Kups in my office. You mentioned that I should get them into my freezer, but you knew they didn’t contain ice cream, didn’t you?”

“No.”

Kwan narrowed his eyes at that. Probably was looking forward to killing someone smart but now realizing I wasn’t all that clever. Big disappointment. He pushed on anyway.

“Do you know why I’m so successful?” he said. “It’s because I eliminate risk. You’ve been poking around, making an obnoxious annoyance of yourself.”

I was having a hard time concentrating, because I was aching all over and my leg was killing me.

“I never thought of a mortuary,” I said. “I was looking for people with freezers.”

“We can’t flash freeze like the ice cream plant,” Kwan said, “but if we have a little time we can get someone rock solid.”

“You froze Arnold Zigler.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you coat him with chocolate and nuts?”

“We needed to send a message. I thought it was brilliant. It made a mess that took forever to clean up, but it was worth it. I thought blowing up the Jolly truck was also clever. It was unfortunate timing that no one was killed.”

“I think my leg is broken.”

“No problem,” Kwan said. “We’re going to slide you into your cozy little drawer, and you’ll drift off to sleep. All pain will be gone. I’m told there’s a little chattering and shivering, but it’s brief. Then we’ll think of something appropriate for you. We’ve already done the Bogart Bar. Maybe we’ll coat you in cherry syrup and make you into a Popsicle. We’ll have to find a large stick.”

I was incapable of saying anything more. I was overtaken with panic. I’d been doing my best to show some bravado, but I was losing the fight. The thought of being impaled with a Popsicle stick, whether alive or dead, filled me with horror.

“Close the drawer,” Kwan said. “I have an appointment for a pedicure.”

The drawer slid closed, and the light went away. There was just the beating of my heart. It was pounding so hard I thought it had to be shaking the drawer. I felt the temperature drop. I closed my eyes. Tears leaked out, but I couldn’t wipe them away because my arms were strapped down. So many things I’d wanted to do. Places I’d wanted to see. I hadn’t said “I love you” enough. I was very cold. There was no sound in the drawer. A soft whirring of air. I was shivering uncontrollably, telling myself it was a good thing. When my body temperature dropped low enough I would stop shivering and I would fall asleep. And then I would be gone forever.

And then there was light. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. I knew all about it because I’d read the book about the little boy and heaven. I opened my eyes and saw . . . Lula.

“Holy fucking shit,” Lula said. And then she crashed over into a faint.

I was back to the teeth-chattering stage. “W-w-w-wha . . .” I said.

Morelli was working at the straps. He released them and lifted me off the metal tray. The room was filled with people. EMTs, cops, a bunch of Rangeman guys, Morelli, and Ranger. Lula was back on her feet.

Morelli carried me out to the ambulance. I was covered with blankets and hooked up to an IV. My jeans were cut off above the knee and my right leg was put in a temporary air cast. Morelli stayed with me on the ride to the hospital and walked me through to the emergency room.

“I think you have a broken bone,” Morelli said, “but I don’t think it’s a compound fracture. You’ve got some scrapes and abrasions.”

“How did you find me?”

“Lula heard you go after the killer. She knew you were staking out Kwan and might need help, so she took off for Stark Street. She called me, and I called Ranger. I thought Ranger could get a man there faster than I could. He’s always got someone patrolling.

“Ranger’s guy found your car with the driver’s door still open. He asked around and someone saw you get hit by a car, scooped up, and driven away.”

“He had a red nose,” I said. “That’s how I knew it was the killer. I ran after him. I had a gun with bullets in it and everything. I swear I was ready to shoot him. And then bam. Hit by a car.”

“A witness said the car was a big black Mercedes, and one of Ranger’s men found it parked in front of the funeral home. It had some front quarter-panel damage where you made impact. We had an army here by then.”





TWENTY-NINE


I WAS IN my apartment with my leg propped up on the coffee table. The break was midway between my knee and my ankle, and the leg was encased in a plaster cast. Morelli sauntered in with a roll of paper towels and a couple cold bottles of beer to go with the pizza he’d brought for dinner.