“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?”
“I’m going to lay here until my back feels better,” Connie said.
Lula looked down at her. “What if that takes years?”
“It’s not going to take years,” Connie said. “Get me a donut or something.”
“You can’t eat a donut like that,” Lula said. “You’ll choke to death.”
“Has this happened before?” I asked Connie.
“Years ago. I was in a step class at the gym.”
“I don’t get the whole exercise thing,” Lula said. “Look at me. I don’t get any exercise and I’m never hurt. That’s because I pace myself when it comes to activity. It’s my observation that there’s nothing worse for a person’s health than a gym. It’s all designed to get you to strain something.”
“Can you move?” I asked Connie. “You aren’t paralyzed, are you?”
“No. I’m just in pain.”
“Do you want an aspirin? Should I put a pillow under your head? Would you like a blanket?”
“Ignore me. I’ll be fine. Pretend I’m not here.”
“You better not be down on the floor like that when Vinnie comes in,” Lula said, “or he’ll hump you like a dog.”
“Get me my gun,” Connie said. “It’s in the bottom right-hand drawer.”
“I’m calling EMS,” I said. “You need help.”
“Hold on,” Lula said. “I got some meds from a trusted source. One of these might help you.” She pulled a small plastic Baggie from her purse. “I had a killer headache from the head-butt so I went to my pharmaceutical connection and picked up a couple things. These are all top of the line but they come from Canada and they might be a little expired. I got Vicodin and Oxy, and I don’t know what the pink one is but it makes you think you don’t got any thumbs, so I don’t recommend that one.”
“I’ll take the Vicodin,” Connie said. “How many do you have?”
I looked over at Connie’s desk. “Do you have anything new for me?”
“No FTAs,” Connie said, “but I ran a more complete real estate report on Kwan. He owns a lot of property in Trenton. If you can’t find him at his travel office he could be in one of his other buildings.”
I took the folder from Connie’s desk. “This is helpful. Thanks. I’m going back to Stark Street. I’m keeping an eye on Kwan, but I haven’t much hope. He’s never alone.”
“I’ll go with you,” Lula said.
“No. Stay with Connie. Don’t let her take too many Vicodin.”
“How many’s that?” Lula asked.
“Give her one.”
I shoved the report into my messenger bag, took a donut from the box on Connie’s desk, and drove to Stark Street. I parked across from Kwan’s building and settled in. I had my gun, my pepper spray, my stun gun, my cuffs, my doors locked. If I saw an opportunity to capture Kwan I’d call for backup.
Connie’s report itemized Kwan’s properties. He owned an office building on State Street, a parking lot on Mulberry, two blocks of warehouses on upper Stark and Eighteenth Street, the building with the travel agency, almost an entire block of semi-slum housing by the train station, and a mortuary on the fourth block of Stark. It occurred to me that the mortuary was a nice convenience for a guy who routinely made witnesses to his crimes disappear.