“The report’s in my computer. Do you mind coming upstairs so I can print it out?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said. “I’m on the chief’s shit list.”
“Whoops. Well, how about I print it out, and bring it to you?”
“I can wait,” I said.
Cobb went inside, and a motorcycle cop came outside.
“Are you Carpenter?” the motorcycle cop asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m your escort,” the motorcycle cop said.
“I don’t need an escort,” I replied.
“The chief thinks you do.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the teeth. The chief had assigned a cop to watch me, and make sure I didn’t stick my nose where it didn’t belong. I glanced up at the building, and found the chief’s office on the top floor. Something told me he was up there, watching this.
I drove to the Sunset with Cobb’s murder report lying on the passenger seat and the motorcycle cop riding my bumper. I pulled into the lot, and the motorcycle cop parked beside me. He lowered the visor on his helmet, and eyed me suspiciously. As I started to get out, my cell phone rang. It was Rose. I rolled up my window before answering.
“Do you still need me to bail you out of jail?” my wife asked.
“Not today,” I replied.
“Are you still in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“There must be something I can do.”
I hesitated. I didn’t like pulling my family into cases, but there was something that Rose could do. She could help prove that Cheeks destroyed evidence, while I spent my time looking for the killer, and hopefully finding Sampson.
“There is,” I said. “A serial killer named Abb Grimes was given an experimental sleeping drug in the mid- 1990s by a clinic in Broward, which later shut down. The drug begins with the letter Z, and made him hallucinate. I need you to find those records.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard.”
“No?”
“Not when you know how to use the Internet.”
I heard my wife’s fingers typing on a keyboard.
“I’m on one of the pharmaceutical websites,” Rose said. “I’ll look at the popular drugs beginning with Z first. Okay. It’s not Zantac, or Zaroxolyn, or Zestril, or Ziac. Wait a minute. How about zolpidem tartrate?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a sleeping drug to treat insomnia. According to the site, it was tested in the United States in the mid- 1990s, then issued a patent, and is now being sold as Ambien. The site says that some patients exhibit odd behavior, including delusions and sleepwalking. How was Abb Grimes acting when he took it?”
“His wife said the drug made him crazy.”
“Sounds like a match. I’ll ask our records department to find out which clinics in Broward were involved in the trials, and do a trace on where they keep their records.”
“You should have been a detective,” I said.
“I did the next best thing,” my wife said.
“What’s that?”
“I married one.”
I told Rose that I loved her, and then she was gone.
I found Buster sleeping on the floor as I entered the Sunset. I scratched behind his ears, and his eyes popped open, and his tiny tail began to wag.
“I think he’s feeling better,” Sonny said from behind the bar.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“He growled at the postman. You want a beer?”
“Espresso if you have it.”
“What does this look like? A fern bar?”
“Give me a pot of coffee, then.”
Sonny served me a pot of coffee, and I asked him if I could use his computer.
“I’m sure not using it,” Sonny said.
I headed into the back room, which contained a small desk with a computer, and cartons of Budweiser stacked to the ceiling. The Internet access was dial-up, and I sucked down two cups of coffee while waiting for it to connect. Soon I was online, and I called Burrell’s cell phone.
“I was just punching in your number,” Burrell said. “You wouldn’t believe how many restaurant employees in LeAnn’s neighborhood have broken the law. I’ve pulled out records of thirty of the really bad ones.”
“Can you e-mail them to me?” I asked.
“I’ll send them right now. Give me your e-mail address.”
The bar’s e-mail address was taped to the frame of the computer. I read off the address, and a minute later, the records appeared as an attachment to an e-mail. I clicked on the attachment with the mouse, and they appeared on the screen.
I have a nose for sniffing out creeps that’s been developed from dealing with the worst scum that society has to offer. I used that instinct as I pored through the records. Each contained the suspect’s name, last-known address, mug shot, and criminal history. It was a true rogue’s gallery, with crimes that included rape, murder, aggravated assault, and kidnapping. Looking at each record, I asked myself if this was our killer.
Thirty minutes later, I was done.
I had eliminated twenty-eight of the suspects for reasons ranging from being too young, to living in another state until a few years ago. The remaining two suspects were better fits. Both were in their mid-thirties, and had done time in prison for kidnapping and violent sexual assault. Each man had been given a psychological evaluation in prison, and deemed sociopathic. Both were also Broward natives. I called Burrell on my cell.
“I’m down to two,” I told her.
“Which ones?”
“Johnnie Lee Edwards and Thaddaeus Prosper. You need to have both pulled in for questioning. I’d also have their homes searched.”
“Anything else?”
I stared at each man’s mug shot. “Can I be there when you question them?”
“I can’t get you into the building, Jack. Hell, I’m not even supposed to be here.”
“Can I listen in? I just want to hear how they answer the questions.”
“That’s doable. Don’t turn your cell phone off.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
I took Buster for a walk on the beach with my cell phone clutched in my hand. I was tired and my head hurt, and I put both of those things out of my mind.
The motorcycle cop stayed ten yards behind me. He’d put his helmet on his bike, and walked while talking into a cell phone. I caught snippets of conversation, and heard him talking to his wife about an upcoming vacation to the Keys. It was obvious he wasn’t taking his assignment too seriously.
On my way back, I retrieved Chuck Cobb’s homicide report from my car. I needed something to do while waiting for Burrell to call me, and reviewing Cobb’s report was a good way to pass the time.
