“This ricin stuff’s really hard to trace, isn’t it?”
“That’s pretty much what we’ve been saying,” said Hester.
I ignored that. “So, let’s say you wanted to poison somebody, and you were from a warmer area where castor beans can grow, and you had access to ricin…”
“You think our two cases here are connected?” Hester raised one eyebrow. “Well, sure. Sure, I think you might be right. Which takes us back to a dope connection…”
“Which,” I said, with some relief, “takes the case away from the connection with the packing plant, and gets us out of that little problem.”
“Not quite,” said Henry. “Noninvolvement with the plant has to be confirmed. That’s a very urgent requirement. Very urgent. If he was exposed at the plant, there could be lots of people at risk. We have to know for sure.”
He was right. But I was now prepared to have most of the interviews done by the Iowa Department of Health. That would free us to interview those who could do double-duty as witnesses in the firming dope connection and the death of both men.
“Would this stuff be good for popping somebody, though? Real world, I mean. Not in theory.” I just tossed it out, more than half expecting a vague answer.
“Oh, sure,” said Henry. “That’s how the Soviets got a KGB defector in London years back.”
We both looked at him.
“Hey,” he protested, “I watch the History Channel.”
Judy was waiting right where we’d left her, cameraman in tow.
“So,” she said, “what can you tell me?”
Hester gestured for me to go ahead. “Okay, look,” I said, “in the first place, it’s not the victim from the roadway. That was one Rudy Cueva. This guy, as far as we know, was accidentally exposed to a toxic substance. We don’t know where, and that’s what we’re looking for. His name is, or was, Jose Gonzales. We’re very interested in his whereabouts for the last several days, to see if there’s a possibility that anybody else could have been exposed.”
That was probably one of my most concise and very best statements to the press, and I caught her with the camera off. Just my luck.
“What poison are we talking about? “asked Judy, as the cameraman signaled he was up and running.
I noticed that it was “poison” and not “toxin.” Ratings.
“You’ll have to ask Dr. Zimmer here,” I said. “I don’t know much about toxic materials accidents.” I was kind of pleased with myself, getting that on tape.
“I have to do rounds,” said Henry, heading back up the hall toward the main hospital floor, trailing media behind him. “But I’ll be glad…”
Hester and I went the opposite direction, towards the parking lot and away from the intrepid Judy. We had lots of people to talk to and soon, and sure didn’t want to waste time.
Hester said she had to check on something at our office, so we went there first. The “something” turned out to be Big Ears. She did an admirable job of faking it, though. While she stood by Sally, ostensibly getting some information from Des Moines via teletype, she just sort of incidentally picked Big Ears up and held him in her arms, scratching him behind the ears.
“You are so hooked,” said Sally.
I’d never worked a case with Department of Health involvement, so I wasn’t even sure who was supposed to do what. As soon as Hester was off the phone, she explained it to me, with one caveat.
“I never have, either,” she said. “My office says that the medical people do the medical stuff, the safety and health people to their thing, and we just assist with things like warrants if needed.”
“Sounds easy,” I said.
“They also said that we conduct whatever interviews are requested by the health people, but we don’t give interviews with anybody.”
“Damned good advice,” I said.
“They also say that the AG’s office will be involved directly, but they want the local county attorney to be involved, too.”
“Uh-oh.”
“That’s what I said. But they insist. It’s policy.”
“They have to realize that the county attorney would be a loose cannon, don’t they? “As an elected official, the county attorney was answerable only to the voters, not to the attorney general’s office or anybody else. I mean, it was a fine idea and had a sound basis, and all that. But in this particular case…
“I expect,” said Hester, trying to allay my fears, “that they’ll snow him under with facts, scenarios, potential law suits, and”-she grinned-”tales of lynchings. He should be so nervous, he’ll just go along with the flow.”
“That assumes that he’s bright enough to understand the implications.”
She considered that for a moment. “You’re right. Well, we’ll just have to watch him.”
I sighed. “Okay. So, where do we start with the health stuff?”
“We wait until they get here and we meet with them,” she said. “Until then…”
“We can get on with our murder?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“Excellent!” I said. “Okay, look, let me bring Lamar up to date, and then we go to Battenberg.”
I figured I’d better tell Lamar about the health and the safety people about to hit the county. That sort of attention was bound to stir up some political stuff, and Lamar had to be aware of what was coming. We talked for only a minute or two on the phone. He was pretty much okay with all of it. Except the bit about the county attorney being involved.
“He’s gonna be a problem, Carl.”
“Maybe not ours, though,” I said.
“My ass.”
Lamar sort of tends away from optimism.
CHAPTER 12
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2001 09:31
We decided that our next move was going to be to pay the late Rudy Cueva’s girlfriend, Linda Moynihan, a return visit. Driving separate cars because we were probably going to have to be in different places throughout the day, we got to Linda’s apartment in Battenberg at 09:30. No luck.
I called Terri on my cell pone.
“This is Houseman. You know where Linda’s at?”
“She’s at her place.”
“That’s where I am,” I said. “No response on the phone, no answer at the door.”
“Holy shit! She was sleeping when I left, but…look, over on the wall across from her door, there’s a fire extinguisher. There’s a key to her place wired to the bracket, behind the thing. I’ll be right there…go ahead and go in. She might have ODed or something…”
“On what? “But I was talking to dead air.
Hester and I held a very brief discussion. This was fairly shaky ground, since Terri couldn’t give us permission to enter Linda’s apartment. She had, however, provided grounds for some concern as to Linda’s well-being. That, and we had our own grounds for concern, as her boyfriend had just been murdered. Who knew?
About fifteen seconds after Terri hung up, we were in Linda’s apartment.
We searched thoroughly and quickly, with Hester taking the bathroom and bedroom while I did the rest of the place. Nobody home.
“Her closet’s got some big gaps in it,” said Hester form the bedroom. “I think she might have packed.”
I checked the kitchen and living room for notes of any sort, telling somebody she had gone. Nothing.
I heard somebody running up the steps and down the hall, and before I could get through the living room,
