Dirty Thirty (Stephanie Plum, #30)(75)

“Smart,” I said.

“I had it all decorated out too,” Lula said. “Maybe some of it is still okay. I couldn’t believe how fast the fire trucks pulled in. We were just out the back door, and we could see the trucks coming.”

I was hoping the bathroom was destroyed. I hated my bathroom.

“We should have taken the Xbox,” Nutsy said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Ranger returned. “The fire is mostly out. It was confined to your apartment,” he said to me. “This building is up to code with fire walls, and the trucks got here fast. The fire marshal will be here in the morning and we’ll know more. Apparently, something smashed through the bedroom window. Most people wouldn’t be able to throw a bottle grenade from down here, so it was probably mechanically launched.”

The trucks were packing up to leave. The gawkers were dispersing.

“I’m homeless again,” Lula said. “This is getting old. I’m going to have my cards read tomorrow. There’s something wrong with my juju. I got an ogre on my ass and things keep burning down around me.”

Ranger and I exchanged glances. We were having the same thought. This smelled like more than bad juju. Her fire and my fire were suspiciously alike.

“Why Lula?” I said to Ranger. “Why would she be targeted?”

“I don’t know,” Ranger said, “but it’s hard to believe there isn’t a connection.”

“We can stay at Duncan’s house,” Nutsy said. “I have his key.”

“Not a good idea,” Ranger said. “I have a car coming. They’ll put you in a hotel and stand watch. We’ll regroup in the morning.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO




I was in Ranger’s kitchen, getting my second cup of coffee, when Ranger walked in.

“You have cameras in here, right?” I said. “You knew I was up.”

“No cameras,” Ranger said. “Intuition.”

“Any word from the fire marshal?”

“Too early.” He got a green smoothie from the fridge.

“Omigod,” I said. “Are you going to drink that?”

“Not everyone can get by on doughnuts,” he said.

“I didn’t have doughnuts for breakfast. I had pancakes. They were amazing.”

“Have you heard from Lula?”

“No. I imagine she’s plowing her way through the room service menu.”

“We need to talk,” Ranger said.

“You keep saying that.”

“This is a different discussion. The firebomb was meant for you. Plover had no way of knowing you weren’t in the apartment. He shot that thing through your bedroom window, thinking you would be asleep at that time of the night.”

“He tried to kill me,” I said.

“He could have waited in the parking lot and put a bullet in your brain, but he chose to put a firebomb through your window. A bullet would have been easier and a guaranteed kill.”

“A firebomb is more dramatic. It’s not something you would expect from a well-dressed jeweler. So maybe he’s muddying the water. He still has hopes of not being found out. Okay, his fraud might go public, but he doesn’t want to get charged with murder.”

“It’s still an odd choice,” Ranger said. “I don’t see Plover setting a bomb under a car or launching a bomb through your second-floor window. And whoever it was hit the mark the first time, because there wasn’t any sign of other hits on the building.”

“Maybe Plover didn’t do any of the bombings. Maybe he has connections with a professional. Or maybe he has a partner. He said I wasn’t the only one squeezing him. That I was the least of his problems.”

“Let’s move this to my office and see what turns up on a background check.”

I took my coffee and followed Ranger through the living area to his home office. He pulled a second chair up to his desk so I could see his screen and he typed Plover’s name into his computer.

I have decent search programs on my computer, but they don’t compare to Ranger’s. Ranger has total access.

“He has two younger brothers,” Ranger said, scrolling through the information. “One is in California. Real estate broker. The other is a bonds trader in London. Plover is married to Jill McBride Plover. Homemaker. Active in a bunch of philanthropic causes. None of them involve building bombs. She’s gotten a couple DUIs. They have a son. Frankie. Forty years old. Spent three years at Lafayette College. Didn’t graduate. Did some time in rehab. Enlisted in the army. Got a medical discharge after two years. No details given. I could get details if I searched further but I don’t think it’s worth the time. Did more rehab. There’s a period of unemployment where he lived at home. Worked at Pizza Hut for six months. Okay, here we go. For the last ten years he’s been vice president in charge of new accounts for Ray Geara.”

“I know that name.”

“Ray Geara owns a chain of car washes where he launders more than cars. He also owns a bunch of politicians, and lately he’s been dabbling in buying downtown real estate.”

“This has potential.”

Ranger closed his laptop. “I’m late for a meeting. I’ll have Milos dig deeper into this. What are your plans for the day?”