Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(63)

“We want to go in through the back door,” I said. “That’s where the cat carrier is located.”

“I’m thinking we do this at night,” Lula said. “It’s harder to see me at night on account of I’m like a shadow then. I’m like Super Dark Shadow Girl.”

I was like Super White Moonbeam, but I could tamp it down if I wore a black hoodie.

Lula cruised on down the street, and the Rangeman guy followed close behind. We stopped at the diner and invited the Rangeman guy to join us for lunch, but he declined.

“He looks like he eats granola bars made out of tree bark and beetles,” Lula said. “And I bet he goes commando.”

The commando remark required a moment of silence from both of us while we enjoyed the mental image. At the end of the moment we gave up a sigh and ordered Taylor’s pork roll sandwiches with cheese and a side of fries.

“Now that I’ve been a part of the food industry I’m seeing a lot of things differently,” Lula said. “These forks and knives we got don’t even have food stuck to them. That’s a sign of a superior establishment. And the plates that are coming out are all attractive with pickles as a garnish. It’s nice to have something green on the plate besides the sliced turkey.”

I nodded in agreement. The grease fire was an act of God. It would only have been a matter of time before we poisoned someone if the deli had stayed open.

“Wulf dropped in this morning,” I said. “He thinks I should be concentrating more on finding the kidnap victims than on trying to find the kidnapper.”

“I agree with that, but I don’t know how you do it. It’s not like anyone left a forwarding address.”

“He thinks I should try harder to capture Waggle.”

“You’ll have your chance tomorrow night,” Lula said. “He’ll be at the Snake Pit.”

“He’d be crazy to perform.”

“What’s your point?” Lula asked.

Lula was right. Victor Waggle was a crazy man.

“I’m taking Ranger with me this time,” I said.

“Don’t think you’re leaving me out. I got body armor and a new wig, so when my hair gets shot it’s not mine.”

Our food arrived, and I ate on autopilot while I thought about my conversation with Wulf. He said the connection went from Sitz to Skoogie to Waggle. The kidnappings had been caught on video and put on YouTube. The safe and the file cabinets had been filled with television and movie stuff. It was like this whole bizarre horror was entertainment . . . like reality television, or dinner theater, or a personal diversion.

I called Ranger.

“I’d like to go back to Skoogie’s office,” I said. “Can you get me in?”

“When you’re done with lunch, have Carl bring you around to the garage entrance. I’ll meet you there.”

“Carl is the guy who’s been following me around?”

“Yes.”

Ranger disconnected, and I dug into my rice pudding.

“Why are you going back to Skoogie’s office?” Lula asked.

“I went through the deli building this morning with Ranger, and there were some files missing from a file cabinet. I want to see if they’re in Skoogie’s office.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


LULA WENT BACK to the office, and Carl took me to the Hamilton Building, where I transferred from the Rangeman SUV to Ranger’s Porsche 911 Turbo.

“Let me guess,” Ranger said. “You want to look for the missing files.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Am I wired? You heard me talking to Lula, right?”

“Wrong. I had the same thought. There’s a theatrical connection between Sitz, Skoogie, and Waggle, and possibly a criminal one. I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s in the missing files.”

“For instance, maybe under future projects would be a plan for kidnapping five men and leaving a shoe behind.”

“It’s an interesting hook,” Ranger said.

We parked and took the stairs to the second floor. Ranger opened the door to Skoogie’s office, startling Miriam. She was at her desk, looking lost.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” I said to Miriam.

“It turns out, the business doesn’t stop with death. There are contracts in place, and new deals in progress, and checks to write. It’s all very confusing, because I don’t seem to be working for anyone. I thought about leaving a message on the answering machine that Mr. Skoogie is dead and the agency is closed, but it felt irresponsible.”

“Did Mr. Skoogie have business partners?” I asked.

“He had joint ventures,” Miriam said. “It’s common practice for multiple production companies to participate in a project. As far as I know the agency was solely owned by Mr. Skoogie. I suppose someone will inherit it, but I can’t imagine it continuing without Mr. Skoogie.”

“We’re going to look around,” I said. “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time. It’s nice to have the company. It’s creepy being alone in here now.”

I took the desk, Ranger took the file cabinet, and we both came up empty.

“Nothing,” I said. “No missing files.”