“Having off-loaded at least four kilos of blow.” Slidell.
My thumb went up.
“Tyree is a dealer,” Rinaldi said, “whose girlfriend has recently gone missing.”
I started on a second hand.
“Having offed her own kid.” Slidell.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Two members of Tamela’s family are also missing.” Rinaldi ignored our exchange about the baby.
My second middle finger went up.
“And sweet cheeks’ license turned up in a house with two kilos of snort and a dead guy in the privy.” Slidell.
Ring man number two.
“A house in the possession of Sonny Pounder, a low-level dealer who snitched to the cops about Tamela’s baby.”
Pinky number two.
“A house with bears interred in the yard,” I added, dropping both hands.
Slidell tendered an emphatic expletive.
I suggested one of my own.
A phone rang in Larabee’s office.
“You’re going to fill me in on all of this,” the ME said to me, then shot out the door.
Rinaldi reached into an inside pocket, withdrew a Ziploc baggie, and tossed it onto my desk.
“CSU found this stashed with the cocaine. Thought it might mean something to you.”
Before reaching for the bag I glanced at Rinaldi.
“Trace analysis has already gone over it.”
Unzipping the seal, I studied the contents.
“Feathers?”
“Very unusual feathers.” Rinaldi.
“I know nothing about feathers.”
Slidell shrugged. “You were all over Yogi and his friends, Doc.”
“That’s bone. These are feathers.”
Rinaldi withdrew an eight-inch plume and twirled it. Even under fluorescent light the blues looked rich and iridescent.
“It’s no song sparrow,” he said.
“I’m not following this,” I said.
“Why would someone hide avian plumage with illegal drugs?”
“Maybe the feathers were already in the basement and the coke was accidentally parked on top of them.”
“Maybe.” Rinaldi replaced the feather.
I flashed on the bear bones.
“Actually, there was some kind of bird mixed in with the bears.”
“Tell me more.”
“That’s all I know.”
“Identifying the species might not hurt.”
“You need an ornithologist.”
“Know any?”
“I can make a few calls.” I gave Rinaldi a look that had talons. “But first let’s talk headless bodies.”
Rinaldi’s arms folded across Brooks Brothers linen.
“I don’t like being kept in the dark, Detective.”
“And we don’t like woolly thinking, Doc.” Slidell.
I turned to him.
“Is there something you’re not sharing?”
“Nothing gained by a lot of pointless wheel spinning.” Slidell scowled at me.
I scowled back.
