“He was very private about those things,” Miriam said. “He might have used the cloud.”
“Was he on the road a lot?” I asked.
“When I first started working for him he would occasionally travel with a band. For the past year he’s been going to L.A., trying to sell a television show.”
“Do you know anything about the show?”
“Not really. I’ve never been involved in the creative side of the business. My title is ‘assistant to Mr. Skoogie,’ but I’m mostly just a receptionist, and I do a little bookkeeping. I know Victor was involved. And a Canadian company was interested in producing. I believe Mr. Skoogie was trying to find a second production company with deeper pockets. And on this last trip he scheduled a meeting with a woman from HBO. Mr. Skoogie was very excited about that. I don’t know how it turned out.”
“What about Ernie Sitz?” I asked. “Was he involved?”
“He was very involved in the beginning,” Miriam said, “but he developed some legal problems, and he disappeared. I heard a rumor that he was in South America.”
We left Miriam and returned to Ranger’s Porsche.
“Now what?” I said.
“Now we visit Skoogie’s condo.”
“Are we still looking for the missing files?”
“Missing files, missing computer, missing phone.”
“Maybe they’re all in the missing messenger bag,” I said. “And that probably was taken by whoever came up the back stairs and visited Skoogie before Waggle found him.”
* * *
■ ■ ■
Leonard Skoogie lived in a budget-friendly five-story condo building north of the government complex. We took the elevator to the fourth floor, and as we walked down the hall, I wondered if any of his neighbors even knew of his passing. The building felt impersonal.
Ranger knocked twice and announced himself. No answer. He picked the lock and opened the door.
I looked around and thought this is the way a marginally successful man lives after paying off three ex-wives. Small dated kitchen, combined living and dining room, one bedroom and one bathroom. The furniture was inexpensive and utilitarian. The exception to this was a large, elaborately carved mahogany desk that occupied the area designed for a dining table. I suspected this was the one piece of furniture he’d kept from the divorce settlements.
We searched the condo, and came to the desk last. The top was a mess of loose papers, sticky pad notes, takeout menus, and candy bar wrappers. There was a charger and cleared space for a computer. The loose papers and notes weren’t helpful. A reminder of a haircut. A band contract. A party invitation. Drawers contained the usual assortment of paper clips, pens, antacids, rubber bands. The file drawer was devoted to pornography. I suppose the pornography was less expensive than acquiring a fourth wife.
“I don’t see an external backup, but he has six flash drives,” Ranger said, pocketing the drives. “Let’s hope we get lucky.”
We left the condo and drove back to Rangeman. Ranger plugged the drives into his computer, and the third one contained several short videos. There was an interior of the diner with Raymond, Stretch, and Dalia at work. The camera panned to a third man. I knew from photos that this was the first kidnapped manager. The video that followed was of the manager taking the garbage out. This was one of the YouTube videos. The next video is dark with a spotlight on the manager’s face. He has a number tattooed on his forehead. He’s unresponsive. The next video is Waggle with a meat cleaver in his hand. He’s making chopping motions, and he looks completely insane. The last video is back at the diner and Dalia is serving a customer. The camera pans in, and we see what appears to be a penis in a hotdog bun.
Ranger pulled the flash drive out of the computer. “This answers some of our questions,” Ranger said.
It took several beats for me to find my voice. “Do you think it’s real?” I whispered.
“Probably not.” Ranger grinned. “The size is optimistic.”
“The size is frightening,” I said. “The whole series of videos is frightening.”
Ranger ran through the remaining flash drives. Two were empty and one contained two short videos of Waggle taking the money and the passport out of the safe.
When I first saw the videos of the five men being kidnapped I thought they were the product of a freak who wanted to brag about his crime. Now I was thinking the snippets I saw today might be made by a freak who wanted to show he was a videographer.
People working in a diner. People mysteriously disappearing from the diner. Crazy meat cleaver guy chopping. People’s parts returning to the diner. The crazy meat cleaver guy withdrawing his money and passport and presumably getting out of town.
Not necessarily a movie I’d want to see. I was more a rom-com, sitcom, and cartoon kind of person.
Ranger put the six drives in his top drawer, pushed his chair back, and stood.
“Are you going to share the drives with the police?” I asked.
“I’m going to return them to Skoogie’s desk later tonight. The police are on their own to find them. Would you like to ride along?”
“I can’t. Lula and I have a job to do.”
“Does it involve waiting tables and making sandwiches?”
“No! I’m helping someone with pet transport.”
We were in Ranger’s fifth-floor office with the door closed. The office was small and private, and Ranger was very close. He leaned into me, I took one step back, and I was against the wall.
“I could work around the pet transport,” he said.
I meant to say no, but it sounded more like “mmmm” when it came out of my mouth.
Ranger kissed me, and it was electric. ZING! The heat went from my lips to my toes and hit all the good spots in between. His hands slowly slid over my body, finding their way under my knit shirt.
“We should move this upstairs,” he said.
“Um,” I said.
“Um?”
“Here’s the thing . . .”
“I hate when you start an explanation like that,” Ranger said. “It’s never good news.”
“Kissing is cheating a little. I can deal with it. If we go upstairs it’s going to be cheating big-time.”
“Someday when we have more time, we need to discuss your moral compass and its reluctance to always point north.”
“My moral compass is fine until you tamper with it.”
“Babe,” Ranger said.
* * *
■ ■ ■
Carl drove me back to the bonds office. I retrieved my car and drove to my apartment building with Carl on my back bumper. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary for him to sit in my lot and wait for God-knows-what to happen, but I knew that was pointless. Carl took his orders from Ranger.
I had a bowl of cereal for dinner, and I texted Annie Gurky. I told her the pickup was set for tonight, and I would call her when it was completed. She texted back that she was very appreciative and would be waiting to hear. It was followed by a bunch of emojis. Hearts, happy faces blowing kisses, happy cat faces, hands clapping.
“Don’t worry,” I said to Rex. “This will be a piece of cake, and then I’ll come home and we’ll have a nice quiet evening together.”
Rex was burrowed in his soup can house, but I’m pretty sure he was listening.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LULA KNOCKED ON my door at nine o’clock.
“I’m all ready to go,” she said. “I got on my night-stalker clothes. I’m even wearing sneakers.”
She was wearing a black satin hoodie with HOT MAMA embroidered in pink on the back, a black sequined bustier, black tights stretched to the breaking point, and sneakers covered with silver glitter.
I was wearing a black Nike sweatshirt, a black T-shirt, jeans, and red sneakers.
�
��There’s a Rangeman SUV sitting in the parking lot next to your car,” Lula said. “I’m thinking as long as we can’t get rid of him we might as well use him as our wheelman. Be easier for us to make our getaway with him waiting for us.”
Lula had a point. I didn’t expect problems, but it might be a smoother operation with a dedicated driver.
We trooped down to the lot, and I looked in at the Rangeman guy.
“You’re not Carl,” I said.
“Carl went off duty. I’m Eugene. I’ll be with you for the rest of the night.”
“I have to pick up a cat for someone,” I said. “Would you mind driving us? It would make things easier.”
“Of course,” Eugene said.
Lula and I settled ourselves into the SUV, and I gave Eugene the address.
“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” I said to Lula.
“Of course, we’re doing the right thing,” Lula said. “We’re reuniting a mama and her kitty. We’re bringing poor Miss Muffy home where she belongs.”
“Let’s review the plan,” I said. “We quietly go to the back door. We get the door open, find the kitty, and put her in the carrier that’s left by the door. Then we calmly return to Eugene and drive off.”
“Yep, that’s the plan,” Lula said. “I got my door-unlocking tools with me, too, so we won’t have to kick it in.”
Eugene cruised down Freestone Street. It was strictly residential, and the street was traffic free at this time of night. Lights were on in most houses. Everything was quiet.
The scumbag’s house was dark. Eugene parked in front and cut his lights. Lula and I got out and quickly walked around the house to the back door.
“Do you think you can get this open?” I asked Lula.
“No problem,” Lula said. “Easy-peasy.”
She took a flathead screwdriver out of her purse and stuck it into the lock.
“All you gotta do is point this down a little and turn it.” She jiggled it around, but it wouldn’t turn.
“Hunh,” Lula said. “It looked easy on YouTube.”
She tried a paper clip and a nail file next. Still nothing. “This is real annoying,” Lula said. She took a hammer out of her purse, whacked the doorknob, and it popped off.
Crap! “You broke their doorknob.”
“That’s what you gotta do when there’s a tricky lock,” Lula said.
The door swung open, and we stepped inside.
“What’s that beeping?” Lula asked. “Do you hear it?”
I froze in place. “It’s an alarm system! We activated their alarm!”
“I don’t remember Annie saying anything about an alarm.”
The beeping stopped and a split second later the alarm siren started wailing.
“Yow!” Lula said, holding her ears. “That’s freaking loud.”
A fat cat streaked into the kitchen and hunkered down under the small table. I grabbed it and looked around for the carrier. No carrier.
“Screw the carrier,” Lula said. “There’s going to be police here any minute.”
The cat was hissing and squirming, trying to bite and claw me, trying to get away. I held it at arm’s length, and ran out the door.
“Get the doorknob,” I said to Lula. “Stick it back in and try to close the door. Maybe no one will notice.”
I ran around the house with the cat. I could hear Lula huffing and puffing behind me.
“Start the car!” Lula yelled at Eugene. “Start the car!”
We jumped into the car, and Eugene sped away.
The cat’s tail was totally bristled out, its eyes were slitty, and it was growling.
“I thought Annie said this was a nice cat,” Lula said, squeezing herself against the door, getting as far away from the cat as possible. “This is the cat from hell, and I feel a allergic reaction coming on.”
“It’s just had a traumatic experience,” I said. “We should talk to it in soothing tones. Nice kitty,” I crooned at the beast.
“Where are we going?” Eugene asked.
“Pull into a parking lot somewhere, so we can make a phone call and reorganize.”
Eugene found a 7-Eleven a couple blocks from the scumbag’s house and parked off to one side. The cat had quieted down enough for me to loosen my grip and punch Annie’s number into my phone.
“We have her,” I said to Annie. “We have Miss Muffy. Where are you?”
“How do I know you really have her?” Annie said. “I want to see a picture. Maybe you could FaceTime her.”
I hit the FaceTime button and pointed the phone camera at the cat.
“That’s not Miss Muffy,” Annie said.
“What?”
“Miss Muffy is a fat fluffy white cat with a pink collar. You have the wrong cat. You have a fluffy orange cat.”
“Maybe it turned orange while it was away,” Lula said. “Maybe someone took it to Lateesha for beautification.”
“Is it possible that the scumbag has two cats?” I said to Annie.
“I suppose, but I didn’t see a second cat when I was snooping around. I just saw Muffy and her carrier.”
“I couldn’t find the carrier,” I said. “It wasn’t by the door.”
The was a moment of silence. “Are you sure you were in the right house?” Annie said. “3635 Freestone?”
“You told me 3625 Freestone. You texted it to me.”
“My finger must have hit the wrong key,” Annie said. “I’ve had a lot of stress in my life lately. Sometimes my hand shakes.”
“Maybe it’s from all that orange juice,” Lula said. “Maybe you should get your liver enzymes checked.”
“And now, as if I don’t have enough stress, I still don’t have my Miss Muffy,” Annie said.
“You can have this cat,” I said. “It’s a really nice cat.” Only a couple of the scratches on my arm were still bleeding.
“No! I want Miss Muffy.”
“I’ll get back to you,” I told Annie.
“I’m not liking the way that conversation went,” Lula said.
“We have to return this cat.”
“No way,” Lula said.
Eugene was watching me in the rearview mirror. I think he was smiling. “Are we going back to Freestone?” he asked.
I blew out a sigh. “Yes.”
A solitary police car was parked in front of 3625. The interior light was on in the car, and the cop looked like he was writing a report. The light went off, and the car drove away.
I got out of the Rangeman SUV with the cat and walked to the back of 3625. I opened the back door and set the cat down in the kitchen. It hissed and tried to slash me one last time, but I jumped away. I closed the door as best as I could and returned to the SUV.
“How’d that go?” Lula asked.
“Great,” I said. “The cat thanked me, and said it was sorry it scratched me.”
“We still going to try to get Miss Muffy?”
“Yes.”
Eugene drove to the next block and parked in front of 3635.
“Do you need help?” he asked me.
“Are you any good at opening doors?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Then I need help.”
We all walked around to the back of the house and tried the back door. Locked. Eugene took a slim tool from a pocket on his cargo pants and unlocked the door. Everyone held their breath when I opened it. No beeping. No wailing sirens. I looked down and found the cat carrier exactly where it was supposed to be.
“Now all we need is a fluffy white cat,” I said.
Eugene took a penlight out of another cargo pants pocket and flashed it around the room. A white cat trotted into the kitchen and meowed at us. I scooped the cat up and zipped it into the carrier.
“Just lik
e I told you,” Lula said. “Easy-peasy.”
I FaceTimed Annie from the back seat of the SUV.
“It’s Miss Muffy!” Annie said. “You did it! You got Miss Muffy! I’m staying with a friend on Apple Street, just off Hamilton Avenue. I’ll be waiting on the front porch for you.”
We delivered Miss Muffy to Annie, and she promised to check in with the court first thing in the morning. I told her I would pick her up at ten o’clock. I thought chances were about fifty-fifty that she would be there when I arrived.
Once again, the key to true happiness is lowered expectations.
Ranger called just as we were approaching my building’s parking lot.
“Babe,” he said, “you’re not going to make the cut as a cat wrangler.”
“The second attempt went okay.”
“I have part of the first one on video from Eugene’s dashcam. I’m going to save it for those days when I need something to smile about.”
“Always happy to make you smile.”
“Wulf is in your apartment,” Ranger said. “Would you like Eugene to remove him?”
“No. He’s harmless.”
“He’s not harmless. I’m not even sure he’s human. He shows up as a blur on my video feed. He’s rogue even by my standards.”
“He might know something that we don’t.”
“Have Eugene wait in the hall, and leave your door open.”
“Okeydokey,” I said, but the line was already dead.
I told Lula I’d meet up with her in the office in the morning, and Eugene and I trooped upstairs. Wulf was waiting for me in my living room, standing by the window.
“We have to talk,” I said to Wulf.
He smiled. “I’m listening.”
“I hate when you break in like this. Stop it.”
“I’ll take it under consideration,” Wulf said. “Is there anything else?”
“No. That’s it.”
“Nothing to share?”
“Nope.”
“You’ve been busy,” Wulf said. “Spinning your wheels in Skoogie’s office. I could have told you it was clean.”
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