Jake leaned over Frank’s shoulder reading the report as Frank typed. Jerry Sauder, the night duty desk sergeant, lumbered over to Frank’s desk. His jaws worked overtime on a piece of gum and he walked as if his feet were always in position one of ballet — pointed out, looking painfully awkward.
“Frank, call on one,” Jerry barked between chews.
“Who is this Noland guy?” Jake asked when Frank had hung up the phone.
“Parker Smith’s attorney. Parker Smith’s daughter won’t release a letter Parker wrote until she’s had a chance to read it. It seems Parker gave it to Noland years ago and told him to hold onto it and not to release it until his death.”
“I guess the sight of that pin literally scared the old guy to death.”
When Jerry put another call through, Jake punched the speaker phone. “Mitchell here.”
“Detective Mitchell?” The voice had a foreign accent, Asian, Jake guessed.
“Mr. Lincoln. I understand you came by earlier.”
“I don’t trust the phone, Detective.”
Frank looked up from the report he was signing. “Trust me, they are fine.”
“No. Nothing is fine, Detective. And I really don’t want to come back to your office. Not if he’s going to be there.”
“He, who?”
“Please, I need to meet you away from the office.”
“All right.” Jake checked his watch. It was almost eight-thirty. “You aren’t familiar with the city so why don’t you tell us where you are staying and we’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t want to give my location over the phone.”
Paranoid, Frank mouthed at Jake as he shook his head.
“You leave now. I saw your picture in the paper. I know what you look like. I will follow you.”
“What do you make of that?” Jake asked after he hung up.
“Someone who is scared for his life.”
Chapter 65
“How are we going to get Parker Smith’s daughter to let us have a peek at that letter he wrote?” Frank asked, sliding into a wide booth in the back of Izzy’s, a restaurant/bar known for its jumbo-sized burgers, fried chicken, and bottomless pitchers of beer.
“She’ll give it up once Carl exercises his authority.”
Gloria Estefan was warning that The Rhythm is Gonna Get You over the jukebox, while a bar filled with men in baseball jerseys tried to talk over the game on the television set. The eating area and bar were separated by a plaque-filled wall.
The bar should be safe enough for Lincoln Thomas, they figured. Everyone in it was a cop, including Rover, the hog-jowled owner/bartender, who had retired from the force three years before.
Two minutes later, a well-dressed Asian man of average height, walked through the front door. Jake slid out of the booth and stood up so Lincoln would see him in the back room.
He saw Jake immediately, walked over and slid into the booth across from the two men. Jake introduced himself and Frank. A waitress came over to take their orders.
“Have you eaten?” Frank asked Lincoln.
“I’m fine. Just hot tea for me.”
The two detectives ordered beer.
“You have a good memory,” Jake said, referring to Lincoln’s ability to pick Jake out of a crowd after seeing his picture.
“Yes, I believe I do.”
The back door opened and a young couple walked down the short aisle into the restaurant. Lincoln gave them a quick glance.
“Is it true what the papers say? Have you closed the Hap Wilson case?”
Karen, their waitress, set the tray on the table and distributed the drinks. “Anything to eat?”
Jake and Frank ordered burgers with the works. Clamping the empty tray under her arm, Karen hustled off to the kitchen.
“That’s the department’s official stand,” Jake replied, “but not ours.”
“And Sergeant Casey? I thought she would be here.”
“We tried reaching her but she wasn’t home and she hasn’t responded to her beeper,” Jake explained.
Reaching into his pocket, Frank said, “Let me try again.” After a few minutes, Frank reported, “Still no answer at home and her beeper isn’t on.”
Lincoln quickly checked the faces of the patrons at the tables and booths around them.
“You’re safe here,” Jake assured him. “All cops.”
Emptying a packet of sugar into his cup, Lincoln said, “Even your precinct wasn’t safe today.” Jake and Frank peered inquisitively at him over the rim of their beer glasses. “Allow me to introduce myself. Lincoln Thomas is my American name. My Korean name is Ling Toy.”
Chapter 66
Tim followed Sam into Preston’s study. On the other side of the wall, in the master bedroom, Jackie was keeping Preston busy.
Tim’s eyes swept down the length of Sam’s legs. “I can’t get over how short that dress is.”
“The computer, Tim.” Sam pointed toward the desk. “And make it quick.”
Bony knees protruded below Tim’s wide-legged shorts. His high-top sneakers scraped along the carpet. Turning the computer on, he waited for the menu to appear.
Sam checked the surveillance camera. It was off. Jackie had seen to it when she arrived earlier. Sam walked over to the door that opened into the bedroom and pressed her ear against it. The sexy throbbing of an Enigma tune radiated through the door.
The gold sequined top slithered slowly down Jackie’s body. She stepped out of it and kicked it to one side. Leaning forward, she exposed her ample cleavage toward Preston. His glass was almost empty and his eyelids were growing heavy. He moved around in the chair, shook his head, widened his eyes as the effects of the sleeping powder took hold.
There was a footstool by a makeup table. Jackie swayed over to the stool and propped up one leg. She eyed Preston playfully as she slowly rolled the nylon stocking down one leg. After stepping out of her shoes, she peeled the nylons off and tossed them aside.
She eyed a silk scarf on the dressing table and picked it up, held it out with both hands, draped it around her shoulders, pulled it down across her breasts.
Preston’s head was starting to bob. Jackie let one strap of her teddy slide down her arm as she moved closer to Preston. She lifted the empty glass from his hand and set it on the nightstand. She stepped back, dropped the front of her teddy to her waist, and shook her massive breasts. When Preston didn’t react, Jackie said, “I do believe, Sugar, you are either dead or asleep.”
“Jezzus, Sam. What is this?” Tim stared at the pictures on the screen. He had used Preston’s password and accessed the lock-and-key file.
“Oh my god,” Sam gasped. “No wonder he only needed one set of those pictures. He scanned them into the computer.” She placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Do me a favor and forget what you just saw,” Sam pleaded. “What did he program this computer to do? Can you tell?”
