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I looked over at Connie and gave her a “What, are you nuts?” gesture.
“That’s a terrible idea,” I said to Lula. “You’re going to die. You don’t know anything about bungee jumping.”
“I Googled it,” Lula said. “I’m pretty sure I could do it. And anyways, I’m sending Briggs off first.”
• • •
I drove to Hamilton Township and found Ducker’s apartment complex, which consisted of eight two-story blocky redbrick buildings arranged around a parking lot. Entrances were flanked by fake white columns. Landscaping was minimal. I’d been here before, and I knew everyone had either a patio or a balcony in the back. Not high-end luxury but not ghetto either. More than I could afford.
Ducker’s silver Kia was parked close to his building. Probably he was in his apartment, cleaning his gun and plotting his revenge on Bogart. It didn’t seem likely that he had a massive freezer, so turning Bogart into a Bogart Bar might be difficult.
I was here because I was curious. I didn’t expect the visit would accomplish anything beyond confirming Ducker was tucked away in his apartment and not out hunting down Bogart. No
t that I cared a whole lot about Bogart. I didn’t want to see him dead, but I wasn’t liking him either. And I could feel my initial outrage about the Bogart Bar crime fading. It looked as if I was done snooping for Ranger. Good riddance to that job. My nose still glowed in the dark.
I sat in the lot, watching Ducker’s building. Not sure why. It was like a boring book that you keep reading because there’s the promise that something astonishing might happen on the next page. After an hour with nothing astonishing happening on the Ducker front, I gave it up and drove home.
TWENTY-ONE
BRIGGS WAS SITTING on the floor in the hallway, his back to my front door. I was tempted to turn and run, but he saw me exit the elevator, and he would have run after me.
“Cripes,” he said, “where were you? I’ve been here forever. You gotta help me.”
I had my keys in my hand, but I wasn’t opening my door. If I opened my door he would follow me in.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Aren’t you gonna open your door?”
“No.”
“I swear, sometimes I think you don’t like me.”
“Sometimes?”
“I’m a nice guy.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe ‘nice’ is a stretch,” he said. “I’m definitely okay. Most of the time.”
I raised the second eyebrow.
“Some of the time,” Briggs said. “Anyway, you might as well let me in because I’m not leaving.”
I unlocked my door, and Briggs followed me into the kitchen. I dumped my messenger bag on the counter and said hello to Rex.
“What’s the problem?” I asked Briggs.
“I have this thing about heights. I get panic attacks. I get all sweaty and my heart goes nuts and I pass out.”
“And?”
“And Lula’s all set to do this bungee jumping show. I wasn’t worried about it in the beginning because I figured we’d get the Naked and Afraid gig. Now Naked and Afraid fell through, and I’m looking at bungee jumping.”
“Don’t do it.”
“She’ll find someone else, and I won’t get a television show. I’m not the only little person in town. Ronald Brickett would jump at the chance to do this. He’s fearless. He used to get shot out of a cannon. He was making good money until those PC idiots told him it was demeaning and he had to quit.”
“What’s he do now?”
