'Sounds like a sound plan,' she agreed. 'Thank you, thank you both.'
'Don't mention it.' said Frank, a half-kidding, nervous tension to his voice, 'not to anyone!'
'Sounds to me like you've been under a great deal of stress here lately, Doc,' replied Tony from the wheel as they pulled away, going now toward the 31st Precinct.
'Yeah, we've heard all about the eyes, the teeth, the head, and all the other stuff this nutcase has been mailing you,' agreed Frank. 'It's no wonder you're having a bad day.'
Meredyth fell silent, deciding it was her only defense.
'No reason to involve a precinct captain in all this….' Tony nudged Frank as he spoke.
'Huh? Nah, nah, no reason I can think of, no.'
The two, Frank and Tony, began talking quietly to one another. 'Stonecoat…isn't that the guy-'
'— yeah, the guy who broke the Mootry murder case.'
'Broke that computer Internet assassination network?'
'Famous guy…Native Texan, right?'
'No, Native American…Cherokee, I think.'
Meredyth shut them out, struggling now with puzzling questions alighting and seeping into her brain: How did Lauralie know I'd be at the courthouse? When did she begin to follow me? From what location? The condo, the precinct? Or had she slyly gotten the information from Candice, my soon-to-be- 'fired' secretary, as no doubt Byron had?
Or worse still, had Lauralie somehow learned of Byron Priestly's connection to her, simply following him to the courthouse? And if she followed him to the courthouse, was Byron too in danger?
If so, Byron, needed a heads-up. She must notify him. 'Can I get my cell phone back?' she asked Frank.
'What?'
'My purse, phone, and gun.'
'Well, ma'am, ahhh, Doctor, sure… but since we're almost there-'
Tony finished for Frank. 'Soon as we turn you over to this Detective Stonecoat.'
'Heard a lot about him,' said Frank. 'Settle a bet for us. He's a Cherokee tracker, isn't he? Wasn't he a one- time Texas Ranger?'
'No, Lucas wasn't in the Rangers.'
'But he was a vet, right? Nam?' asked Tony.
'And he's Choctaw or Chickasaw then, if he's not Cherokee.'
'What's difference between a Chickasaw and a Cherokee?' asked Tony.
'Don't know,' replied Frank. 'Maybe the difference is their totems.'
'Totems?'
'You know, spirit guides, all that. One tribe follows the fox, another the hawk, turtle, hare, squirrel.' Frank pointed out a side street, and Tony turned down it.
'Squirrel?' Tony laughed. 'No, no…it's all along family bloodlines who's in charge, who's the chief of one tribe, and who's the chief of another… family ties, so to speak. Not so different from tribes in Afghanistan or Africa or the mafia even.'
'Sounds right, Frank, but totems are important too, I'll bet. What do you think, Dr. Sanger?'
'I think I want my phone.'
CHAPTER 14
Lucas Stonecoat’s morning hadn't been near so eventful as Meredyth's. Before he got the call from the squad car transporting her to the precinct, he had met with a retired investigator who had worked the Yolanda Sims case. Detective Maurice Remo was haunted by the case, still angry at how it was handled by the original investigating team. Remo had taken it over when it had first come downstairs to him in the Cold Room. At the time, Remo was in charge of the Cold Case files. Disgusted by what he found in the file-or rather what he failed to find-he had, in 1957, launched his own investigation. A young detective at the time, he was now in his early seventies.
Lucas had telephoned Remo on a hunch after seeing his name on a routing sheet, expecting to be told by whoever answered the phone that Remo was long dead. All the other detectives on the case had long since passed away. But Maurice Remo answered his own phone and was very much alive.
Lucas told Remo, 'Your notes on the Yolanda Sims 1956 murder case are not in the file. I only stumbled on your name when I was leafing through the routing sheet.'
'I started my own murder book on the case,' Remo explained over the phone.
'We don't have any record of a second volume.'
'No way you could have, Detective Stone-what is it?'
'Stonecoat, sir.'
'I worked the case on my own time. My captain and everyone else was convinced it was a guy caught for a string of murders, but Sims's killing was never proven to be connected. Even so, I was told to let it be. We had several higher-profile cases in-house at the time I could devote my time to, you understand?'
'Missing and dead white people, you mean?' Lucas rocked in his chair, certain that the old man would slam his phone down at the remark as soon as it slipped from Lucas.
'Yeah, something like that.' He was still on the line.
'So…you did what?' Lucas rocked forward, planting his elbows on his desk.
'Took my report on the case with me when I left.'
'You took it home on your retirement?'
'I would take it out from time to time. Try to convince myself her killer was a guy who fried for seven other child killings around the same time. They called him the Dumpster Killer. Can you guess why?'
'Yeah, I can. So you have all your notes on the case-'
'— here to home, my kitchen cupboard.'
'Really?'
'Damn thing's a constant reminder. Points a finger at me every damn day I open that cupboard. My albatross.'
'Would you care to share this cursed bird with someone?' Lucas asked.
'You mean you? I've read about you in the papers from time to time. I understand you're the man who got the HPD to join the computer revolution, that you got all the Cold Cases on-line, and now they're shared by every precinct and jurisdiction in the state.'
'In the country now, sir, and with the FBI's VICAP program.'
'Excellent.'
'May I come over there and have a look at your murder book on Yolanda Sims?' Lucas waited out a long pause.
'Misdemeanor to take HPD property and not return it.'
'I think we can say a statute of limitations is at work here. So, can I come have a look? If it's good enough, we'll include it on the database.'
Another long moment of silence. 'Tell you what, Stonecoat. I'll come down to the precinct house.'
'I could save you the trip.'
Remo nearly shouted into the phone, 'I don't have reason enough to get out much, so let me!'
'All right, sir. Suit yourself.'
'Not much for this retirement life.'
Three quarters of an hour later, Maurice stood at Lucas's desk, introducing himself, a murder book clutched to his chest.
Maurice's take on the Sims case proved unique, an absolute eye-opening departure from the original investigators. Like Lucas, he believed that all four of the suspects interviewed, being familiar with the neighborhood, would not have left the body where it had been dumped.
'Dead wrong they were,' Remo repeatedly said, somehow looking relaxed in a rolling office chair. 'If the creep who killed her didn't know the lay of the land,' he calmly said, finally breaking with his chant, 'then it stands to
