When he had gotten up from his short sleep this morning, he’d put on a brown T-Shirt and jeans. That would have to do for their impromptu visit. He fluffed his hair a little and stepped up to the door as they knocked again.
He twisted the knob and opened it. “Good morning. A bit early for a Policeman’s Ball funding drive, isn’t it?”
The man on the right wore a black fedora hat and appeared to be very cool, but Elmore could tell something brewed under his collar. The man on the left looked nervous like just being there bothered him.
What is this all about?
“Elmore Ackerman?” the one with the hat asked.
Elmore nodded, not sure if he should be identifying himself.
“Have you seen this girl?” the man with the hat asked. He produced a picture of Sarah Roberts. “She was last seen with this man, Drake Bellamy.” He produced another picture of the guy in the cage beside Sarah’s.
“Badges please,” Elmore said. “I’d like to know who I’m talking to first.”
The two men looked at each other. Elmore knew it was the law. They had to identify themselves with their name and badge number. After a brief pause when Elmore thought they weren’t going to comply with his request, the man on the left pulled his out.
“Spencer Milton. I’m the lead investigator of the Rogers Centre shooting yesterday and this here is Rod Howley. He’s with the American authorities.”
“Pleased to meet you both. To answer your question, I have not seen these two people. I have no idea how this has anything to do with me.”
Rod turned around and appeared to scan the property.
“Is there something you’re looking for?” Elmore asked.
Rod came back around and stared at him. “As a matter of a fact, I am. These two people. And I think you know something about them.”
Spencer grabbed Rod’s arm. “Rod, that’s not how we do it here. There are procedures. We have to follow them.”
“Procedures?” Elmore asked. “What are we talking about here? You’re looking for two missing persons and you knock on my door and talk about procedures. What’s going on?”
Rod pointed and waved at one of the black and whites. The back door opened and the security guard from last night who had helped Elmore walk his two prisoners to his car stepped out.
Shit. It’s over.
He debated whether or not to slam the front door, walk to his office, grab his two pistols and shoot every single cop in the face.
The guard stepped closer and tilted his head. The sun was still rising, but it came from behind the house, shining on the guard and casting Elmore in a shadow.
The guard lingered a little longer, then shook his head.
“No, I don’t think so. It was dark last night, but I don’t think so,” he said.
Elmore almost breathed a sigh of relief, but stopped himself, knowing they’d hear it.
“Look again,” Rod said.
“I did look. The guy last night had a mustache. This guy doesn’t.”
Rod glared at Elmore and then stepped up to him, staring at his lips. Spencer grabbed Rod’s arm again, but Rod brushed it off.
“Stubble,” Rod said. “You have stubble. I wondered if you shaved your mustache off, but you have stubble. It’s been at least two days since you’ve shaved.” Rod stepped back and crossed his arms. Elmore could see he was getting quite angry about something.
What brought him here? How could he be so sure?
“Was it someone else, like a brother?” Rod asked Elmore, not letting his gaze waver. “Or did you wear a fake mustache. Wait, don’t tell me, it was fake, right?” Rod lifted his knee, slapped it and laughed as if he’d cracked a fabulous joke.
“Okay, I think this is enough,” Spencer said. “We’re sorry to trouble you, Mr. Ackerman.”
“No trouble at all, but I’m still confused as to what this is all about. What brought you to my door?”
Rod’s face lost all sense of humor. His eyes bore through Elmore, his lips pursed. “Sarah Roberts brought us here. We’re looking for her and I think you know something about that.”
“Rod,” Spencer said. “Come on, let’s go. We’re done here.”
“Not yet,” Rod said. “Mr. Ackerman. May we continue this conversation inside?”
“It’s six in the morning,” Elmore said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m. Very. Serious.”
“No, it’s not a good time. I won’t be bullied by American cops.”
Spencer stepped off the stairs and started toward the black and whites. He stopped and turned back. “You coming, Rod?”
“I know you know more than you’re letting on,” Rod said. He moved closer to Elmore and whispered, “I’ll be back and when I am, it’ll be on my terms.”
Rod stepped off the front steps and walked backwards, studying the front of the house. He pointed at the roof. “What’s that up there?”
He doesn’t miss a thing.
“It’s a roof-top patio,” Elmore said. “I had it built in early 1986 when Haley’s Comet made a pass that March. I’ve always been interested in astronomy. That patio and railing is equipped with a chair that leans back to where I’m almost lying down and there’s a typical alt-azimuth mount for my ten-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope. I even have a Mak-Newt in that baby — from Ceravolo Optical Systems out of Ottawa.”
I knew memorizing that astronomy shit years ago would come in handy one day. If he only knew what that tripod mount was really for, he’d arrest me on the spot.
“What does all that mean?”
Is he testing me? Does he know about this stuff?
“ What are you doing?” Spencer stepped back up beside Rod. “What has this got to do with anything?”
“Let him answer if he wants to. We’re just talking here. No harm.”
“It means,” Elmore began, “that the secondary mirror is flat and imparts no power as do others.”
“You go to all that trouble to build an observatory on your roof — why not have a larger telescope than a ten inch? Couldn’t you just aim that thing out your living room window?”
He’s trying to trip me up. Fuck this. I’ll bury him one day. Nobody tests me. Ever.
“ With telescopes, two contradictory rules apply: the bigger the telescope, the better. The smaller the telescope, the more often you’ll use it. Sure, a ten inch will outperform an eight inch and so on, but unless I built a huge observatory, a ten inch is all I need. Contrary to your earlier comment — that’s not an observatory. It’s a patio, a deck, a veranda — or whatever you want to call it. I use a telescope up there. That’s it.”
Rod stepped backwards a few more steps to get a better look. Then his face lit up like he remembered something. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed.
“Who are you calling?” Spencer asked.
They were far enough away from Elmore’s front door that he had to struggle to listen.
Rod held up a finger for Spencer to wait. Then he closed his cell phone and looked between Elmore and Spencer.
“No signal out here.”
“That’s odd,” Spencer said. “We called in just as we hit the driveway.”
“I know,” Rod said and then whispered something private to Spencer. He turned back to Elmore. “I will return. See you again soon.”
Could the American have figured out that I have a cell phone jammer? How?
Something was going on behind the scenes. Something Elmore couldn’t put his finger on. But he knew, whatever it was, he had to figure it out or it would finish him. This American cop was smart.
All the men got into their two vehicles and drove down his driveway, disappearing behind the line of trees at the end of his property.
Elmore slammed his front door and started pulling on his scab. Time was running out. They could get a
