'Whoever you're trying to call. And I already asked all the questions you're going to ask. That's what you pay me for, remember?'
Halloran was still miffed, but he replaced the receiver. 'Oh, really. Okay, then give it to me, starting with who the hell gave those Federal body snatchers carte blanche at a Wisconsin ME's office.'
Bonar sighed and took a seat. 'The Federal judge who signed the warrant, that's who. I'm guessing those prints we sent to Milwaukee got some attention after all.'
'So what did they tell the ME?'
'Nothing. They just slapped down the warrant, said it was a Federal case now and they were taking over. He didn't know a thing about it until they came waltzing in, and neither did anybody else down there, including the director of the lab.'
'What the hell would make them move so fast?'
'That's exactly what I wanted to know. So after I hung up with the ME, I gave Milwaukee a call and spent another fifteen minutes talking to every FBI buck-passer in the whole God-blessed office, learning exactly nothing except that anybody who knows anything about this is either out of the office, out of town, or just plain out. They ran me around in so many circles, I'm still dizzy.'
'So much for interagency cooperation.'
Bonar nodded sullenly. 'They said to call Monday.'
'Right. Like the weekend will make a difference. Damn, this really pisses me off. If there's a Federal crime involved, fine, they can have it, but at least they could have given us a courtesy call.'
'So what do you want to do? We're kind of paralyzed here.'
'We're more than that-we're out of the loop. But I'd sure as hell like to find out what's going on and get a leg up on the FBI, just so I could rub it in their faces Monday morning.'
'Me, too.' Bonar let his eyes drift thoughtfully to the window and the cow pasture beyond. 'Of course, Sharon could probably find out for us in five minutes, if you'd just swallow your pride and give her a call. . ..'
Hailoran kept his expression perfectly flat and unreadable, but Bonar's eyes had zoomed in on him in one of those spooky looks that made Hailoran feel like he was getting an x-ray.
After a few moments, Bonar was grinning smugly. 'So you did try to call her.'
'Well, yeah, sure, I tried her a couple times,' he said, going for nonchalance. 'When I couldn't get ahold of Grace, I thought maybe I could reach her through Sharon.'
'You don't have to explain yourself to me.'
Hailoran grabbed his phone irritably. 'I wish you'd stop reading my mind. It's creepy.'
'I'm no mind reader-you're just totally transparent. Who are you calling?'
'Green Bay.'
Bonar's heavy brows went up. 'You're going to call Sharon out of a meeting?'
'I am.'
'Uh, excuse me, but first you threaten to fire the woman, and now you're going to ask for a favor?'
'That's the plan.'
'This should be interesting. You do know that if chicken-fried steak sits in the gravy too long, the breading gets all mushy.'
Hailoran almost smiled. 'I do know that.'
THE LEAD DETECTIVE in Green Bay was a fast talker with a broken-glass voice that sounded more blues singer than cop. Hailoran picked up the hint of an East Coast accent. Detective Yustin was cordial enough, but a bit bent out of shape, understandably so.
'No sir, Sheriff Hailoran, haven't heard a word, can't raise them on their mobiles, and they were supposed to be here two hours ago. Four o'clock, Miss Mueller said, give or take, and it's after six. Don't get me wrong-this is a favor they're doing us, strictly gratis, so I'm not complaining, but I have four other guys here since three and I'm doing the overtime math in my head, you know? And overtime math :s like tax-audit math-it never adds up the way you want it to.'
Having never been audited, the whole tax analogy was lost on Hailoran, but he understood the sentiment. 'I'd be grateful if you could tell Agent Mueller to give me a call as soon as she gets there. I won't keep her long, but it's fairly urgent.'
'These ladies are a hot ticket today.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean you and me aren't the only people looking for them. I got a call from Minneapolis earlier.'
'Huh. You get a name?'
'Yeah, sure, a tough guy, said his name was Harley Davidson, if you can believe that, and when I told him they weren't here yet, he got a little testy and proceeded to tell me how to do my job. Put out a watch for the car, call in the troops, like that. And this was when the ladies were only an hour late. Hell, if I put out calls every time somebody was an hour late, my fourteen-year-old would be on our most-wanted list, you know? The guy sounded a little too tightly wound to me. I'm thinking jealous boyfriend, if you're curious.'
Halloran smiled a little. 'Actually, he's the business partner of the two women Sharon Mueller is bringing along.'
'You mean the two incredibly generous women who are donating their time and software to help me out?'
'The very same.'
'Oops. Guess I have some apologizing to do. You mind if I ask you a question?'
'Fire away.'
'Well, this software has to be worth a billion dollars, and they're giving it away? Maybe it's just me, but I don't understand philanthropy when there are that many zeros attached.'
Halloran said, 'From what I understand, all the partners made some serious money on their software company, but one of their games got a lot of people killed.'
Detective Yustin grunted. 'The Monkeewrench murders last October.'
'Right.'
'So this is, what? Some kind of penance?'
'Maybe. Hell, I don't know. Maybe they'd give this stuff away anyway. They're nice people, every one of them.'
'Well, that's good to know. I'll pass on your message to Agent Mueller when she arrives, Sheriff.'
By the time Halloran hung up with Detective Yustin, Bonar was over at the credenza, finishing a call on another line. He gave Halloran a dark look. 'That was dispatch. Gretchen Vanderwhite's missing.'
'The cake lady?'
'Yeah. She was hand-delivering a cake to a wedding over by Beaver Lake this morning; stopped to pick up Ernie's insulin at the pharmacy on the way, and was supposed to be back in plenty of time for Ernie's next shot. He's an hour overdue already.'
'Is Ernie still driving?'
'Nah. He can't see a fly on the end of his nose anymore. Doc Hanson's on his way over there now to shoot him up. Dispatch called the bride's family. Gretchen never showed, and boy are they pissed. The bride and groom had to cut a grocery-store angel food for the pictures, and the bride cried during every damn one of them.'
Gretchen Vanderwhite had started baking cakes about the same time the first McDonald's opened in Green Bay. She'd taken a fancy to the big sign that kept track of the number of burgers sold, and decided to put one up in her own yard. Everyone had gotten a chuckle out of that in the beginning, but then the numbers had started to climb and Ernie'd had to get a bigger sign. The last time Halloran drove by their farm, the sign had read more than four thousand, and as far as he knew, she'd never missed a single delivery. 'We gotta move on this, Bonar,' he said.
'I know.' He was already punching numbers into the phone. 'I'll sweet-talk Cheryl into running our dinners over here, then we'll get things moving before you have to head to Green Bay.'
'That's on hold for a while. They're not there yet.'
Bonar looked up. 'What do you mean?'
'Just that. They haven't showed up, haven't called. They're two hours late.'
