“Warrant issued? Extradite?”
“Nope.”
“Will we provide transportation?”
“Yes, we sure will.”
“Good to go, sir!” she snapped out with enthusiasm. Sally had a cousin in the Marines.
I said, “You need anything else?”
“We’re getting short on bacon dog treats. Forgot to tell you when you were here.”
“I’ll tell Hester,” I said. “I’ll call in later.”
Hester and I left Terri with instructions to call us immediately if she heard from Linda. She said she would.
“And you might want to get out of here,” I said. “If somebody is after Linda, you don’t want to be mistaken for her.”
We all left together, locking the apartment and replacing the key behind the fire extinguisher.
When we both got to the parking lot of Battenberg PD, Hester shut her car down and got into my car and we had a little chat.
Firstly, for somebody to kill two people over a dope deal, it had to be some pretty serious dope. Serious as to dollar value, not necessarily quality. Given either methamphetamine or ecstasy, we were talking a pretty large quantity.
“No way that much could be sold locally,” I said. “Just not enough of a market.”
“Could be a local thing, though,” said Hester. “I mean, a message to lots of small dealers. Screwing with the franchise sort of thing.”
“Yeah. We talked about that before.”
“Yes.”
It was quiet for a few seconds.
“Or, major amounts in transit,” she said.
“Transit… Okay. If this is a major waypoint on the Mexican Pipeline, for example, they could have quite a bit of stuff. For that to happen-”
“-it would have to come in in quantity, for transshipment by another means,” finished Hester.
“So we’re both thinking the packing plant?”
“In via auto, out via meat truck,” she said.
“Jose Gonzales humped meat into the trucks. What better way to ship crystal or X.” That was certainly true. FDA rules mandated that a truck loaded with “swinging meat”-such as quarters or halves of beef-be sealed when it left the packing plant, and the seal not broken until the destination was reached. Any cop who wanted to search that truck, and consequently broke the seal, could be held personally responsible for the entire shipment. Several hundred thousand dollars worth of meat, all rejected at its destination because of a broken seal, and the cop would have to pay. Or, if he was lucky, his department would. Either way, it was just too expensive to risk unless you were absolutely certain the dope was there. Ergo, it was seldom done.
“Those trucks go all over the country?” asked Hester.
“I don’t think so. I think they go to New York and Chicago, to major kosher delis there.”
“All of it?”
“Ah…no. No, only the front half of the animal is kosher. The rest could go anywhere, I suppose.”
“You think the management is involved?” asked Hester.
“I’d bet my life they were not,” I said. “Not those guys. They’re fanatics about cleanliness and reputation. No way.”
“They’d cooperate with us, then?”
“I can’t say for sure. They’d have to be convinced it was happening,” I said.
“Ah.”
We sat there in the car for a few moments, the only sound being the rush of air from the defroster.
Finally, I said, “I assume we’re in agreement that we have two murders?”
“I think it would be safest to proceed that way.”
“Best bet for a motive is dope?”
“So far.”
I chuckled. “Okay, what’s bothering you?”
“They’d have killed both of them the same time, same way,” she said. “Poisoning just doesn’t do it. It’s not their style.” She scooted around in the seat so she could come closer to facing me. “I’ve only had one toxic death in a dope murder, and that was years ago. They caught some dude ripping them, and they forced him to eat coke.”
“Yeah?”
“Every other time, it was shooting, stabbing, or beating to death. Pain, humiliation, and in-your-face stuff. Something all the other little dirt-bags can identify with.” She shook her head slowly. “Poisoning is too much like a Goddamned health issue, and too sneaky. Some petty-assed dope dealer is just too stupid to get a message from poisoning. Especially something like this ricin substance. No. No, it just doesn’t fit.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Okay? Okay? All this great analysis and all I get is ‘okay’?”
“You’re eloquent. What can I say?” She was, of course, absolutely right.
“Well, anyway, I was going to talk with Ben about his. Maybe Hector instead?”
“Sounds like a winner,” she said.
“But we do agree that they’re related, right? The cases.”
“Certainly. We just don’t know how, and there’s no physical or testimonial evidence indicating they are.” She smiled. “Other than that little obstacle, sure, I think they’re related.”
“So, we just need the key, right? I mean, we’ve got lots of bits and pieces. I get the impression we’re only missing one little bit of information, one little piece of evidence…”
Hester chuckled. “Well, you just keep thinking that, Houseman.”
“I’m starting to hate this case. But I think we got it if we just get that one piece we’re missing.”
“It’ll have to do,” she said. “If it keeps you at it, that’s what we need.”
“Good enough for government work,” I said, shutting off the car and opening my door. “Let’s see if we can find Hector.”
16: 28
There was a clattering, roaring sound outside that grew, then diminished.
“What’s that?” Sally was peering through the cracks, straining to see.
“Sounds like a helicopter,” I said. “Could be a police chopper from Cedar Rapids.”
We heard it coming again. I hustled over to the door on the east side and cautiously peered out through the large, vertical crack. I just caught a glimpse of the helicopter as it went over, going from north to south. It was painted in the familiar red, white, and blue scheme I’d seen on TV so many times.
“It’s the Goddamned KNUG ‘Eye in the Sky’ chopper. The news media.”
If that thing flying over didn’t stir the pot, nothing would.
My cell phone rang. It was the leader of the TAC team, who sounded assured, but not overconfident. That was good.
“We’re getting in touch with that chopper, gonna get him out of here, but we want to check out his footage first. He’s live, okay? He’s givin’ us a great view of the farm. He don’t know it, but he is. As long as we’re waitin’ here,” he said, “let’s get back to who you got cornered up there.” He was maintaining contact, probably to make sure we didn’t do anything stupid before he could gain control of the situation. That was okay with me.
“I’m not sure who’s got who cornered here,” I answered. “We’re more like a cork in a bottle, I think. You haven’t been briefed by any feds, then?”
“I haven’t talked to any here,” he said. I heard him holler, away from the phone, “Anybody know of any feds around here? Check, will ya?” Then, more directly into the phone, and intended for me: “No. No brief by any feds, either.”
