hands.
“Great,” Cruz said in satisfaction. “Where’d you find it?”
“Above the ceiling tiles in the bathroom.” With her free hand she extracted a plastic evidence bag from her purse and placed the gun inside it. Sealing the bag, she pulled off the gloves and stuffed them back in her pocket.
“You bitch!” Cantoney started toward her, but Cruz blocked the man’s path. “She planted the damn thing there. I never seen it before.”
“Save it for your lawyer,” Cruz advised in a bored tone. “He’s probably used to fairy tales. Assume the position, Cantoney.”
Still muttering curses, the man spread both hands out against the wall, feet splayed. Cruz searched him quickly, finding nothing. Standing, he grasped the man’s arms and cuffed his hands behind him, advising him of his rights.
Madeline watched all of this as if from a great distance. Instead of feeling the excitement and satisfaction she should be experiencing at getting closer to solving the case, her mind was playing tricks on her. For a split second she could visualize a similar scene with Cruz on the other end of this action, Cruz being led away wearing cuffs. She pushed the mental image aside, shaken.
It took longer than expected to get Cantoney booked and the paperwork for his arrest filed. When it was finished, Cruz stopped the young officer who was about to lead him away. Addressing Cantoney, he said, “You could make things a lot easier on yourself if you’d cooperate. We might be able to manage a deal for you if you were willing to tell us where you got the gun.”
Cantoney laughed, an ugly sound. “Ready to do me favors now, Martinez? I don’t think so. My lawyer will have me out of here in a few hours.”
“With your record, things are going to go hard for you,” Madeline put in. “It would look a lot better to a judge if you’d tell us what we want to know.”
“I know how things work better than you do,” he retorted. “And I’ll take my chances with jail. I kinda like the idea of staying alive.” He turned away, and after several more moments Cruz motioned for the officer to take him away.
They discussed Cantoney’s words on the way to Andersen Steel. “Whoever sold that gun to Cantoney has him scared to death,” Cruz said disgustedly.
“Well, that fits with what we learned on the streets,” she reminded him. “Nobody wanted to talk to us about Valdez.” She wondered if it was Valdez himself who had everybody so afraid, or his partners in the gun ring. Surely word had reached the streets about the snitch who was found dead. It would serve as a grim reminder to anyone who might otherwise be persuaded to tell what he knew.
“Well, maybe one good thing came out of this day. Ramsey should be safe now.”
“Assuming we got there before Dirk was able to wipe off the gun and get Ramsey’s prints on it,” Madeline agreed. “Otherwise we’ll have another set of problems to deal with.”
“Can I interest you in a late lunch?” Cruz asked. “I’ll let you choose. You can take me to the greasiest dive in the city, and I won’t complain, promise.”
She ignored his teasing and shook her head. “Let’s skip it. I want to get to Andersen Steel before the office closes.”
Cruz opened his mouth to argue, then, with a sidelong glance at her set expression, he fell into silence. He’d never seen Maddy quite like this before. She was drawn tightly, as if it would take only a slight nudge to cause an explosion. He was familiar with what adrenaline did to people, and certainly it had been pumping through both of them today. But somehow he thought it was more than that. She’d been tense when he first saw her this morning, but she was wound even tighter now. Maybe he’d better back off for a while. He wasn’t certain exactly what was bothering her, and that uncertainty teased his mind. He could accept her explanation from this morning. He hadn’t liked it, but knowing what he did about her, he could accept it. Now, though, he was getting the strangest feeling that something else was at work here, something more than she’d admitted to, and worrying about what it might be kept him silent the entire drive.
Madeline spoke only to give him directions. She was distracted, her mind working overtime. With the arrest of Cantoney, she felt more than relief that they had very probably saved Ramsey from years locked away. There was something more. Somehow she felt that they were closer to solving the whole thing, but there were still so many angles to figure out. Where did a cop fit into the gun supply? Why would the people they’d talked to on the streets be reluctant to talk about a dirty cop? Few of them had reason for loyalty to the police. It would make more sense that they would be willing to give up any information that would put a cop away. Unless…
Her gaze slid to the man beside her. Unless the wrong cop was doing the asking. She considered that thought. Suppose a few of the people they’d questioned had known an officer was involved, and recognized that same officer investigating the case. Wouldn’t that make them wary? Wouldn’t that frighten them into keeping their mouths closed?
She couldn’t deny the possibility, any more than she could deny her reaction to it. It would help if she knew just where the officer came in to the gun distribution setup. Were he and Valdez working together? Or was the cop buried deeper behind the scenes than that? Perhaps Valdez was merely the distributor. He’d have the contacts on the streets needed to dispose of the guns. Someone else could be getting the guns and masterminding the setup.
The car pulled up to the corporate headquarters for Andersen Steel and they walked into the building. “I don’t doubt that you can tell me who the head of this outfit is,” Cruz said as a uniformed man directed them to the floor of the executive offices.
“His name is Louis Andersen,” Madeline replied, missing the lopsided grin his correct guess brought to his face. “But he’d be in his seventies by now, I think. I’m not sure if he’s still running things or not.”
Upon reaching the fifth floor, they were stopped almost as soon as they left the elevator. “May I help you?” A woman rose from her desk several feet away and approached them, a pleasant expression on her face.
Cruz presented his shield and introduced both of them. “We’d like to speak to Mr. Andersen, please.”
“Please wait here,” the woman advised. They watched as she knocked on a nearby door and disappeared inside.
“Nice digs,” Cruz murmured, taking in the plush carpeting and polished walnut furniture.
The woman returned and said, “Mr. Andersen will see you now.”
They followed her to the door she’d recently come from and she ushered them in, then closed it behind them.
A man was seated across the huge room from them at a desk that was easily, Cruz surmised, the size of six police-issue desks at headquarters. The inner office was even more luxurious than the outer room. It was decorated in black and gray, with splashes of crimson for accents. Modern artwork adorned the walls. He studied one that looked as though a large spider had been dipped in black paint and then allowed to crawl across the canvas.
Turning toward the desk, Cruz greeted the man rising behind it then flicked a look at Maddy. If she was right about his age, this man was remarkably well preserved. He didn’t look a day older than forty-five.
“Louis Andersen?” he asked.
The man smiled benignly. “I’m Stephen Andersen, vice president of the firm. Louis is my uncle. I’m afraid he’s unavailable right now. He’s semiretired and doesn’t keep regular hours. How can I help you, Detectives?”
Cruz reached into his shirt pocket, withdrew the picture of Jose Valdez and handed it to Andersen. “We’re looking for this man. He’s been employed by one of your subsidiaries, Wynn Construction. Do you recognize him?”
Andersen studied the picture and then said, “I’m afraid not, but there’s really no reason why I would. Wynn Construction, as well as all our other subsidiaries, is run by a manager. They do their own hiring and firing.”
“Would you have any records of Wynn’s employees here at all?” Madeline pursued. “In your personnel office, or in payroll, perhaps?”
He shook his head. “Payroll and personnel are handled by each individual company. The only records we keep of theirs have to do with the various projects they’re working on, and supply orders. We furnish all the steel they need for their jobs.” He handed the photo back to Cruz. “Can you tell me why you need to find this man? What’s he done?”
“He’s just wanted for questioning,” Cruz replied.
