Turbo Twenty-Three (Stephanie Plum 23)

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.

The guy who tried to choke me wasn’t wearing gloves. I could remember the feel of his fingers closing in on my neck. Probably he’d left prints on my door. Probably I shouldn’t have wiped the blood off the lamp. Probably I shouldn’t have sprayed Lysol on the message on my door. Damn! I was doing everything wrong.

So what was the other purpose for the clown? He was a big smudge on the Bogart brand. So far it hadn’t gone public. I wondered if someone was disappointed at that. Who would benefit if Bogart Ice Cream tanked? Mo Morris. I didn’t buy it. I thought Mo Morris was doing his own thing. And Mo Morris would have no reason to kill me. I’d worked in his plant for half a day. I’d spent a half hour at a bar with his son. Who else would benefit? Someone who was associated with Soon? Big question mark there, but Ranger would

dig around and come up with a name.

I looked out the window and saw coastline below me. I was going to Disney World.

“Babe,” Ranger said. “Are you okay? Your face is flushed.”

“I’m going to Disney World.”

“Have you never been there?”

“When I was nine and when I was fourteen. How about you?”

“I never went as a kid. I went as a teenager when I was living in Little Havana. It was local. We’d drive up to Orlando and get there when the park opened. We’d drive back to Miami after the fireworks. Four hours each way.”

“Did you love it? Was it magical?”

“It was okay. Not entirely my thing.”

“What was your thing?”

“I liked girls. I belonged to a gang. I was too cool for Disney.”

“How about now?”

“Now is a lot more complicated.”

“I know this is business, but can we go to the Magic Kingdom?”

“I’d rather set myself on fire.”

• • •

We touched down in Orlando and left our messenger bags and guns on the plane. Disney World frowned on guns.

“How are we going to find Mrs. Bogart?” I asked Ranger.

“She’s staying at the Contemporary Resort. I have photographs and her room number.”

“How did you get her room number? This is Walt Disney World. It’s like the Pentagon when it comes to security.”

“We hacked into their computers.”

Our driver dropped us at the entrance to the Contemporary and we walked into the lobby. Everyone was in shorts and colorful T-shirts and flip-flops. Ranger was in black fatigues and looked like he was doing recon for a SWAT raid.

“Now what?” I asked him.

“It’s lunchtime. We check out the restaurants and the pool. These people have been here for over a week. They aren’t going to be standing in line for the Haunted Mansion.”

“Are you thinking Harry Bogart is here with his wife?”

“It’s possible. This is a good place to hide.”