“You said, ‘When we find them.’ You think we will?”
“Yes. They’re starting to make little mistakes.”
“The Express Mail package was one, wasn’t it? There’s a cutoff time for next-day delivery. If that’s Frank’s blood, then it had to be mailed yesterday, after they took him and yet before the cutoff time.”
“Right. Usually that’s five o’clock, if the person wants any kind of assurance that it will get to its destination by the next day.”
I studied the Express Mail label more carefully. “The date and time of acceptance is written on the package by the mail carrier who picks it up,” I said, “so even though it was probably dropped in a roadside box with a stamp already on it, we know it was mailed before” — I looked at the place where the carrier had initialed the label — “four thirty-five P.M.”
“Yes.”
“And the zip code of the accepting post office is noted,” I said. “This is a Las Piernas zip code.”
“So we know the general area where they mailed it,” Cassidy said, “and just about when. Once we find out which carrier those initials belong to, we’ll be able to find out which box they mailed it from. But we’re getting a time frame at the very least. When I called Hank about this package, he told me that we’ve had another piece of luck.”
I looked up at him. He pulled out a notebook and flipped it open. “A fellow by the name of James Washington saw Frank in Riverside yesterday.”
“What?”
“Riverside PD had people interviewing rail workers, showing them photos of Frank. Washington remembered seeing Frank. He said Frank waved to him from the driveway of a run-down house — and described Dana Ross’s place. Working with the railroad people, Riverside has narrowed the time down to about eleven, eleven-fifteen. That fits within the general time frame of Ross’s death.”
He paused, and I saw his brows draw together a little.
“Go ahead and tell me, Cassidy. Your face doesn’t usually give much away, but for about two seconds there, you were easy to read.”
“No kidding. I must be slipping.”
I waited.
“The gun that shot Dana Ross was definitely Frank’s gun,” he said.
“Proving almost nothing.”
“I agree. Except that Ross had to be killed after Frank arrived. Some of the blood at the scene matches Frank’s blood type — which is different from Ross’s. The blood in the trunk matches Frank’s blood type. More definitive tests will take longer, but for now we’ll assume the stain in the trunk is from Frank. We know he was injured, probably in a struggle out in Riverside. He was then placed in the trunk of the Volvo and driven to Las Piernas. He was drugged at some point, probably early on. So we’re getting a clearer picture of events.
“Hank had other news,” he continued. “They used one of Frank’s credit cards yesterday.”
“Where?”
“At a gas station in Riverside.” He consulted his notes again. “At a little after one o’clock. Used it twice — filled up two tanks.”
“Two vehicles? Frank’s and the one they used to get to Riverside?”
“Probably.”
“Were they caught on camera, by any chance?”
“No luck there,” he said. “There are cameras, but they only cover the area near the cashier, not the outside at the pumps. The pumps are self-serve only, the type that have credit card readers built in. The customer can pay the cashier, or use his card right at the pump. Hocus used Frank’s card at the pump.”
“One o’clock,” I said. “That means they drove back to Las Piernas in time to take Frank’s blood from him, pack it up in the Express Mail envelope, and mail it, all before four-thirty yesterday.”
He nodded. “One more item. Hank told me the number on the fax you received is from a public fax machine at the Las Piernas Airport.”
“A copy center at the airport?”
“No, an unattended machine — sort of like a pay phone, only it’s a fax. You have to use a credit card. The card was stolen, but we’ve got folks out there now looking for prints and trying to find witnesses. Hank’s already got photos of Neukirk and Ryan.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t just send the fax by computer.”
“So am I,” he said. “It would easily have been within their capabilities.”
“That fax was sent not long after the second call to my house — when they told me to go to the
“Almost exactly an hour later,” he said. “You talked to Frank then, so unless they’ve moved him since the call, he’s probably no more than forty-five minutes away from the airport. That’s allowing for time to park at the airport, walk in, and set up the fax. The fax man was careless. I don’t think he knew the number was picked up by the receiving fax.”
“So it begins to look like they’ve stayed in the Las Piernas area.”
“Yes. And with the photos circulating, we may get a better fix on them.”
“If Frank is in Las Piernas, I don’t want to be here in Bakersfield!”
