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“Hiding in plain sight.”
“Exactly.”
We wandered into a restaurant with a massive buffet. Everyone was having fun. Donald Duck was there, and I got a selfie with him.
“This is so great,” I said to Ranger. “They have Mickey Mouse waffles.”
He hooked an arm around me. “You like this?”
“I do! Can we stay to see the fireworks?”
“We’d have to spend the night.”
“Yes! That would be awesome. Omigod, is that Minnie Mouse? Can we have lunch?”
“We had lunch on the plane.”
“I know, but Donald and Minnie weren’t on the plane. If we have lunch here I can get more pictures.”
Ranger looked over at Donald. Donald was waving to everyone and making Donald Duck sounds.
“Babe,” Ranger said. “You need to focus. We’re here to talk to Mrs. Bogart.”
“Sure. I know that. It’s just that it’s not every day you get to take a picture with Donald.”
“I don’t see Mrs. Bogart here,” Ranger said. “Let’s try the pool.”
The pool was jammed with moms and kids and an occasional dad. Harry’s wife, Susan, was poolside, reading a book. She was blond and tanned and toned. The perfect corporate wife. She answered a call on her cellphone and glanced over at the hotel. She checked her watch and finished the call.
“Are we going to talk to her?” I asked Ranger.
“No. We’re going to talk to Harry. He’s in the room.”
“How do you know?”
“Instinct.”
We went back to the lobby and took the elevator to the third floor. Ranger rapped on the door and looked at me.
“Housekeeping,” I called.
After a moment the door opened and Harry Bogart stared out at us. The shock of seeing Ranger was obvious. He tried to close the door, but Ranger was already halfway in by then.
“What are you doing here?” Bogart asked. “What’s going on?”
“Two people have been killed, the Jolly truck was blown up, and this morning someone tried to kill Stephanie,” Ranger said.
“I don’t know anything about any of that,” Bogart said. “I swear.”
“You went to the plant in the middle of the night in your pajama top. You walked into your office, and after a few minutes you left the building, abandoned your car, and disappeared.”
“I felt like getting away. I can do that. I own the company. I can do whatever I want.”
“I can do whatever I want too,” Ranger said. “And I might feel like pitching you off the third-floor balcony.”
Bogart narrowed his eyes. “Don’t threaten me. The tough-guy act doesn’t work.”
I could see where Bogart might think this was an idle threat, but I’ve seen Ranger in action and he doesn’t make threats he isn’t capable of carrying out. I saw him throw a man out a second-floor window once. He was a really bad guy, and no one much cared what shape he was in when he hit the ground…but still.
