Later that night the phone next to my bed rang just as I was about to fall asleep. I was certain it was Sandy and I did not bother to check the caller I.D. before I answered. The smile in my voice must have been evident because after I said hello the voice that came through the receiver was as soft and feminine as I have ever heard.
“You’ve got your warrant for Pate. One for the office and one for the house.”
“What? Cora? Say that again, will you please?”
“What’s the matter, Jonesy? You sound like you were expecting someone else. I said you’ve got your warrant for Pate.”
As I listened to her speak, I realized her words were slightly over annunciated yet slurred, and it reminded me of my days on patrol when I would stop an intoxicated driver then listen as they tried to talk their way out of a trip to jail. “Uh, that’s great, Cora. How did you pull that off?”
“Don’t ask,” she said, then giggled quietly like a young girl. “Let’s just say my powers of persuasion are still as good as they ever were.”
Among other things, I thought.
“What was that?” she said.
“I didn’t say anything. The connection is bad, I think. Thanks for going to bat for me.”
“Anytime,” she said. “Hey, did you ever see that Far Side cartoon? The one where the couple is in the delivery room at the hospital? The father is standing next to the bed and the doctor is holding their new baby boy right after he comes out of the chute. The father looks at his wife and says, ‘Look honey, it’s a boy. Let’s name him Preston.’” She howled with laughter, then hung up on me.
Out of the chute?
I looked at the caller I.D. It read Elliott, Preston. It was just after one-thirty in the morning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The next morning, Saturday at ten o’clock, Sandy and I were supposed to meet at the Pate Ministries complex. I saw her State car, but not her so I assumed she was already inside. I looked at my watch and discovered I was about ten minutes late. I had a search warrant for the complex tucked inside my jacket pocket. The lobby of the church had been converted from the wide open space I witnessed on my last visit to a smaller, more intimate setting, the latter being achieved by erecting a three-sided red pipe and drape system, the kind you see at trade shows and conventions. At the front of the enclosure an electrically operated viewing screen had been lowered from its ceiling mount and the images being displayed prior to the screening of tomorrow’s broadcast was a closed circuit view of the enclosed area where I now stood. There were about twenty to twenty-five people scattered about the area, some seated in padded folding chairs which were set out in four rows of twelve across the width of the enclosure. Others either stood or were seated in various places at the round four-top tables covered with white linen cloths and set with dishes and flatware.
I watched myself enter the area on the closed circuit system and almost tripped on the leg of a chair as I did so. A buffet was set up on the left side of the room and the wait staff were busy as they placed stainless steel chafing dishes into their holders. A faint wax-like aroma filled the room from the cans of chafing fuel that burned with blue flames under the containers.
Samuel and Amanda Pate stood at the front of the room next to the lowered view screen and spoke with another man and woman I did not recognize. Samuel had his back to me, the arm bands of his crutches clamped tightly around his suit sleeves. Amanda glanced my way and let her eyes skip across me as if I were not there.
Sandy and I saw each other at the same time, first on the screen, then in real life as she turned around in her chair and looked back at me. She leaned over and whispered something to a handsome man seated next to her, then stood and walked between the chairs to the end of the row. She wore a cream colored sweater dress with matching knit stockings that were just slightly longer than the bottom of her dress. When she walked the tops of her stockings peeked out from under the bottom of her dress and I felt myself swallow as I watched her approach, my mouth suddenly hot and dry.
“Hey, Jonesy,” she said, her hand on my arm. “How are you?”
I ran my tongue over the top of my teeth and tried to get some moisture back in my mouth, but before I said anything, Amanda was at my side and she slipped her left hand into the crook of my arm, the words she spoke directed at Sandy, not me. “Virgil and I go way back. I’m Amanda Pate, Samuel’s wife. You’re one of Virgil’s people, aren’t you?” I moved sideways, away from Amanda’s grasp and crossed my arms in front of my chest.
Her actions were vintage Amanda, I thought. She had the ability to put someone in their place, all while helping them conclude they did it to themselves, any victimization they might feel brought on by their own inadequacies or stature, not the words she spoke. But it wouldn’t play with Sandy, as I was about to find out, and in more ways than one, at that.
Sandy tilted her head slightly and said, “Something like that.”
“Well,” Amanda said with mock sincerity, “I love your little outfit. It’s so, so…”
“Yes?” Sandy said, her eyes blinking more than usual. It’s so what, exactly?”
“Well dear, it’s so, um, edgy I think is the word I’m looking for. Yes, that’s it. It’s so edgy I think I might be a little jealous. You’ve managed to capture just about every man’s attention here this morning. For example, that man you were seated next to just a moment ago. Do you know who that is?”
“It’s your party,” Sandy said. “Don’t you?”
“Of course I know, dear. I was just wondering if you did. He’s a very successful bond trader. Single too. In fact, don’t look, but he’s watching you right now. Would you like me to formally introduce the two of you?”
“We’ve already met, thank you,” Sandy said. “Speaking of attention, I think your husband is trying to get yours.” She looked at me, then said, “Detective Jones, could I speak with you for a moment?” Then to Amanda, “Can’t wait to see the show. I’ve heard it’s a hoot.”
Amanda looked at Sandy, then at me and walked away without saying anything more. Once she was gone I looked at Sandy and said, “hoot?”
She ignored me and waved at the bond trader.
“What was that all about?” she finally said.
“That,” I said, “was a master manipulator in action.”
“No kidding.” Then, a few seconds later, “What time are they coming?” She was still making eyes with the trader, or at the very least, letting him make eyes with her.
I looked at my watch. “In about thirty seconds. Donatti’s running this squad. Rosie’s at the Pate’s residence. Once they’re in, I want you to keep an eye on Amanda.”
“You got it, boss” she said, her head turned upward at me. I wanted to kiss her right then and there, and I might have, except a number of things happened almost simultaneously. Samuel Pate picked up a spoon and tapped it against the side of a water goblet and said, “Excuse me everyone, if you’ll take a seat please, we’re ready to-”
At the exact same time, Donatti and ten uniformed State Troopers came through the front doors of the lobby. Donatti shouted, “Police! Search warrant! Nobody move. Everyone stay right where you are and keep your hands where I can see them.”
I moved toward Pate. The bond trader who had been flirting with Sandy saw me coming, stood up to get out of the way and tripped backwards over the row of chairs behind him. I saw Amanda try to duck behind the drapery out of sight, but Sandy wrapped her arms around her and tackled her to the ground. The drapery and support rods got tangled up in their struggle and fell over the buffet table, then the table and everything on it crashed to the ground as well. People were screaming and trying to get away from the commotion by the buffet and Donatti was still yelling for no one to move. I pointed a finger at Samuel Pate, told him not to move, then ran over to where Sandy was still struggling with Amanda. I yanked the drapery free from the top of them both, then held her down while Sandy got up.
Sandy and I stood up, my foot stationed in the middle of Amanda’s back to hold her in place. Samuel Pate
