Ten minutes later I was settled into Ranger’s Porsche 911 Turbo. I had a to-go cup of coffee and Ranger’s iPad. I was watching a rerun of a video feed from the Bogart plant.
“We have the cameras up and running,” Ranger said, “but we haven’t got all the doors alarmed, and we haven’t changed out all the locks. After today I expect Bogart will allow me to replace his security staff with my own people, at least temporarily. The locks are scheduled to get changed out tomorrow.” He stopped for a light on Hamilton. “Tell me what you’re seeing.”
“The Jolly Bogart clown comes into the plant through the back door to the storeroom. He grabs a gallon jug of something and a bag of something else. He walks through the storeroom and heads for the offices that are on the opposite side of the building from the manufacturing area. I’m watching him from a different camera now. He stops at one of the doors and knocks. No one answers the door, so the clown opens the door and goes in. He’s off camera.”
“Fast-forward.”
“Okay, here he is leaving the office. His hands are free. He hasn’t got the jug or the bag. He goes back to the storeroom and leaves through the back door.”
“What do you think?”
“I could see Ducker doing this. He went gonzo when he realized he was still stuck being the clown.”
“Anything else?”
“Have you already been to the plant?” I asked Ranger.
“Yes.”
“It was Bogart’s office, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s now covered with chocolate syrup and nuts?”
“Yes.”
This got a smile from me. “Fun.” I replayed the video. “So we know the Jolly Bogart clown trashed Bogart’s office. Does this relate to the other crimes?”
“It’s not clear. It’s also not clear who’s in the clown suit. The clown hair is covering a lot of the face, and the video is being shot in the dark by infrared cameras that only show color when the clown’s penlight sporadically goes on to help him find his way.”
“Jeez,” I said. “It could be me.”
“Only if you were wearing size ten running shoes. The clown stepped in some chocolate and left prints in the hall.”
I ran the video again. “If it’s not Ducker it’s someone with a similar build.”
“Do you know anyone at the plant with a similar build?”
“No. That’s not to say there isn’t someone.”
Ranger turned into the Bogart parking lot and parked by the loading dock. There were two Rangeman SUVs parked there as well. All lights were on in the plant and the office wing.
“There’s a second video I want you to see,” Ranger said.
He took the iPad from me, found the video, and handed it back. I saw the door to the loading dock swing open. Bogart appeared, and lights flashed on. He was wearing jeans and what looked like a pajama top, and he wasn’t happy. I watched him walk through the plant to his office and go inside. I fast-forwarded and caught him bursting out of his office and charging down the hall. The video was in full color, and Bogart’s face was practically purple. His fists were clenched. He left by the same door he entered.
“The clown break-in occurred at one in the morning,” Ranger said. “At two o’clock Bogart showed up, entered through the loading dock, and went straight to his office. He spent five minutes in his office, and left the building. Before he left he called Rangeman to report the break-in. My man at the desk asked Bogart if he’d also called the police, and Bogart said he didn’t want the police involved.”
“Why didn’t your monitoring station pick up the break-in?”
“Bogart didn’t want his cameras monitored in real time.”
“This still doesn’t seem like anything serious enough for you to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night.”
“We can’t find Bogart,” Ranger said. “He never returned home, and his car was found abandoned about a mile from here. We’ve notified the police, but there’s no indication of foul play or of a struggle, and Bogart has only been missing for a couple hours. Right now the damage to his office is considered vandalism.”
“But you think it’s more serious.”
“I think no matter how you spin it this isn’t going to look good for Rangeman.”
We entered the building through the loading dock door and walked straight through to Bogart’s office. The door was open. Bogart hadn’t bothered to close it when he stomped out. I peeked in and grimaced. The office was a mess. The chocolate and chopped nuts were everywhere. They were sprayed on walls, bookshelves, the desk, and the floor. Some of the chocolate had been smeared, and DIE had been written in it. Other messages were DEAD MAN, BURN BABY, and BE AFRAID.
“This is beyond vandalism,” I said to Ranger. “This is ugly.”
“Yeah,” Ranger said. “We’ve got a bad clown.”
“Have the police seen this?”
“We had a uniform here, but no plainclothes. You might want to mention to Morelli that this might be more than a prank. It’s not his problem, but he can pass it along.”
“Is that my purpose here?”
“Partly. Mostly I wanted you to walk through the two videos and see if anything was off. I’ve got a problem with the clown. I can’t see Ducker getting into his clown suit and doing this.”
“I can. He’s totally postal. Too many years of listening to the Jolly jingle.”
“Someone blew up his truck.”
“He hated the truck. He could have blown it up. He was in the men’s room when it went boom!”
“So he’s your prime candidate?”
“He’s in a tie with Butchy. And I guess I can’t rule out Kenny Morris.”
“Could either of those men have been in the clown suit tonight?”
Good question. I reran the video in my mind. “I don’t think it’s Butchy. Butchy is built like a scarecrow, and he sort of hunches forward when he walks.”
“What about Kenny Morris?”
“I don’t know. I only saw him on a barstool. He’s average height and build. Closer to the clown than Butchy.”
We exited through the loading dock and walked around the building until we came to the back door to the storeroom. It was locked.
“Can you open it?” I asked. I already knew the answer. Ranger could open anything.
“The real question is can you open it?”
The door had a numerical keypad like the keypad to the freezer. I punched in 0000 and opened the door.
“Either Bogart is very trusting or very stupid,” I said.
“So far in my dealings with him I haven’t seen evidence that he’s either of those.”
We stepped into the storeroom and followed the clown’s path through the rows of shelves. We left the storeroom and walked the hall to Bogart’s office. We turned and retraced our steps to the storeroom’s back door.
“Do you have any words of wisdom for me?” Ranger asked.
“No, but I have some questions. Why did Bogart come to check on his office in his pajamas?”
“He didn’t say. His phone message to the control room was terse. And after that initial message we couldn’t reach him. I assume whoever trashed his office called him. It was late at night, and the call rattled him enough that he rushed over half dressed.”
“Question number two. Actually it’s an observation. The storeroom is a maze of shelves, but the clown had no trouble finding the chocolate and nuts in the dark. He walked right to them. And then there’s number three. It’s a retraction of what I said a couple minutes earlier. I don’t think Ducker would dress up in his clown suit to do this . . . especially if he killed Arnold Zigler.”
It was six o’clock when I fell into bed fully clothed and pulled the pillow over my head. I woke up a little after ten and shuffled into the kitchen. I opened the fridge door and let the cold air wash over me, hoping it would jump-start my brain. I didn’t feel a surge of intelligence so I gave up on the fridge and pulled a box of Froot Loops out of the cupboard. I made coffee and ate a couple handfuls of cereal. The fog started to lift after the coffee.