'Bullshit,' she said, a little more tentatively this time.
'Where's he gone, Courtney?' Boldt asked.
Daphne said, 'You want to be the one who could have helped him, but didn't?'
The witness glanced back and forth between her two interrogators, both of whom saw opportunity. Courtney Samway would talk, if pressured correctly.
Boldt said, 'We've confiscated his van, so what's he driving?'
Daphne added, 'We've seen the apartment. Did you know that? Not your apartment-we got it too-I'm talking the rented room in Ballard. So where does Abby have left to go? And how does he get there? He had better go somewhere, because if he's out on the streets… the buses… the ferries… well, these young officers are out on the street as well. You see where that leaves him, Courtney?'
Boldt took a wild stab. 'Where's it leave you, Courtney? Where's it leave you once he knows you've been brought in for questioning? No matter what you tell him, the first time he stumbles upon a cop, Abby's go ing to think you set him up. You tell me: Where does it leave you?'
Daphne flashed a look at Boldt that suggested he might be stepping on her psychologist toes. She didn't need him playing psychologist any more than he needed her playing detective.
'I want a lawyer,' Courtney said now, her lips wet and trembling.
'One has been appointed,' Boldt said, 'and is on the way over here. Count on it.'
'I want my lawyer now!' Courtney repeated, this time with more of an edge.
'You don't have to talk to us, if you don't want to,' Daphne reminded, 'but it might be in your best interest. Either way, we can't leave you alone right now, so you're stuck with us.'
'You don't know him,' she mumbled, the cracks widening.
'Why don't you tell us,' Daphne suggested.
'There's like a switch in him, you know? I've never seen anything like it. When Davie died-'
Just then, her young attorney burst into the interrogation room, a blur of briefcase and words. 'Violation of rights! Protecting my client!'
Boldt had heard it all too many times before. 'We'll give you five minutes,' he announced.
Courtney Samway looked over at Daphne, and with a frightened-sounding voice she whispered, 'Snookers, the bar. He hangs there.'
CHAPTER 36
Snookers was a biker's bar, a beer and pool hall with two voluptuous waitresses who wore plastic cowboy hats and tight jeans. The bartender was the size of Sasquatch. When Boldt and Gaynes entered, all but a handful of the twenty or so men in the bar noticed the pair immediately. A half dozen slipped quietly toward the back exit. There, these seven men encountered four patrol officers that Boldt had assigned to watch the back door. Two of the seven escaped. The remaining five were pushed up against a brick wall and searched.
Boldt and Gaynes walked past the back pool tables and let the screen door slam shut on their way out.
A patrolman informed Boldt, 'We lost two of them, Lieutenant. Of what's left, we got two handguns, a blade, some pot and what looks like cocaine. Only one guy is clean out of all of them.'
'We'll take the clean one first,' Boldt informed the man, after studying each face for Flek and not finding him. Addressing the group as a whole, Boldt announced loudly, 'We're Seattle PD. We have a few questions.'
Gaynes spoke deliberately and slowly to the group. 'Bryce… Abbott… Flek. Abby. Information or whereabouts buys you an instant out. David Ansel Flek. Davie. Abby's brother. Recently deceased. Information buys you an out.'
Boldt dragged the 'clean' suspect away from the others, out of earshot, Gaynes at his side. The officers kept the other suspects engaged to the wall. He said, 'You get the first shot at a hall pass.'
'You can't hold me,' the young man complained. 'On what charges?' He had some Latino blood in him, maybe some Asian as well. He was short but solid. He wore leather, jeans, and Air Jordans.
Gaynes fished out the man's wallet. 'We can run your name though BCI and see if you've been a good boy or not. If you're on parole and any of these others guys turns out to have a record, well, then, that's a violation, isn't it?'
'Do whatever you have to do. But you can't hold me. And I don't have shit to say to you.'
Gaynes stepped up like she was ready to hit him. Boldt signaled her to back off.
Boldt said, 'Who are we interested in over there?' indicating the lineup against the wall.
'Third guy. Black hair. Name of Robert. Knows the one you're looking at.'
Gaynes returned the wallet. 'We know who you are. We know where to find you. If you're blowing smoke at us-'
'No way! He mentioned this guy Abby, okay?' the kid admitted. 'Heard him saying something about him.'
'Take off,' Boldt said, releasing the kid.
The third one from the left, a tall, lanky kid, had junkie's jaundice and the smell of a boozer. As one of the two caught carrying a piece, Boldt had a noose to hang him. He led the man away from the others and launched into a discussion about unregistered handguns and mandatory prison time. It won the man's attention.
'Abby Flek,' Boldt said, adding no editorial.
'Guy has flipped out.'
'What was your business with him?'
'Me? No business, man.'
Gaynes encouraged a closer intimacy with the brick wall. 'Think harder,' she said.
'No business with him.'
Gaynes leaned her knee between the man's legs, and then lifted her leg sharply. 'That gun you were carrying is going to cost you a year. The lieutenant here has run out of patience, and so have I. You want the year, you keep telling us you had no business with him, because we're too busy to give you a second chance. Got it?'
'Hardware,' the man said.
'Weapons,' Boldt said.
'Let's just say I'm connected, okay?'
'Let's just say you're a collector,' Gaynes corrected. 'Sound good? Nothing illegal about collecting a few weapons.'
'Whatever. Abby has lost it, okay? The guy will start a fight over anything. He comes to me, I'm not about to say no.'
'Of course not,' Gaynes said.
'But I couldn't say yes either, because… my connections,' he said, straining to meet eyes with Gaynes. 'My collection…' he corrected, '… I didn't have what the man was looking to score.'
'Which was?' Boldt asked.
'Semi-auto long rod. Russian-built was okay, but he wanted a particular German scope.'
'A sniper's rifle?' she asked incredulously.
'Way out of my league,' the guy said.
'And then some,' Boldt said, wondering if he was the intended target. He added, 'When was this?'
'Three, maybe four o'clock.'
'Today?' Boldt gasped. They were only eight hours behind the man.
'And you referred him to a fellow collector,' Gaynes said, leading him on.
'What would you have done?'
'And the name of this individual, this fellow collector?' she said.
'Macallister,' the guy whispered so quietly that Boldt wasn't sure it had come from his lips.
'I know Macallister,' Gaynes told her lieutenant. She slammed the suspect's groin again and warned, 'This blows up in our hands and we're coming after you. Understood?'
'Yeah, I got it.'
' 'Cause if Macallister hasn't heard of this guy, right or wrong, it's your ass we're coming after. And there will be no second chances. So take a moment to contemplate your existence, my friend-to ruminate-because you gotta
