'Treasure beyond value, my ass,' Sandy said. 'That's not what you were saying the last time I talked to you.'
'I don't have time for an emotional, ah, encounter, right now,' Virgil began.
'You've never had time for an emotional encounter,' she said. 'If you ever find time, give me a ring.'
She hung up; Virgil winced, sighed, and scratched his nuts.
SLIBE.
The good old Sliber. The Sliberoni. The Slibe-issimo.
'Slibe did it,' Virgil said to the ceiling of the motel room, which didn't answer.
JOHN PHILLIPS was a short, balding, muscular redhead, wearing a blue suit that was, Virgil thought, silently punning to himself, ill-suited to his complexion. The lines in Phillips's face suggested a permanent skepticism, a guy who'd heard the phrase 'I didn't mean to do it' a few hundred times too many. He was the Itasca County attorney, and he sat behind his desk, and in front of an American flag, his face growing more skeptical by the moment.
Sanders, the sheriff, sat with his legs crossed, to one side, looking at Virgil, while Virgil finished up: '… and that's about it.'
'So you've got one thing-the Visa card and the gas station,' Phillips said.
'No, I've got two and probably three dead, and one shot in the back, and a nut running loose. I think Slibe One probably did it, but it could be Slibe Two, and there's even a possibility that, for reasons we don't know, Wendy Ashbach did it. After I ran my strangulation test last night, it occurred to me that while Zoe isn't strong enough to have killed Lifry, Wendy might be. Wendy probably has thirty pounds on Zoe.'
'But Wendy wanted to go with this guy Windrow,' Sanders said.
'Yeah. And Wendy has an alibi, more or less, for McDill, though the alibi depends on exactly when McDill was killed, and we don't know that. Anyway, that's why I think it was probably Slibe One or Two, and not Wendy. But, if we can get a warrant for the whole property, we might as well take Wendy's place apart, too.'
Phillips plucked a yellow pencil out of a Mason jar on his desk and used the eraser end to scratch his head. To Sanders, he said, 'I can tell you what Don's going to say. It's a fishing expedition.'
'Well, we do have the Visa card,' Sanders said.
Virgil said, 'That would be a huge coincidence, if Slibe, or Slibe Two, or Wendy, didn't use that to go down there and kill Lifry. That's solid. We've got opportunity on the others, McDill and Washington and Windrow. Neither Slibe One nor Two has a real alibi-and we have the fact that these killings seemed focused on the band.'
'Except Washington,' Phillips said.
'Well, yeah. But we've also got people killed,' Virgil said. 'Even if we're fishing, if we can find out which one is doing the killing, we can stop it. And if we can actually prove that one of them did it, I doubt that a court would throw out the evidence, if the search is only questionable. It's not completely unreasonable. Especially if it works out.'
'Windrow plagues me,' Sanders said. 'We can't even find him. Avis has car locators installed on all their vehicles, and they're getting no signal, from anywhere in North America. The guy has gotta be at the bottom of a lake somewhere. The bottom of a bog or something.'
'Probably off playing house with Little Linda,' Phillips said.
'That's really funny, John, that's hilarious,' Sanders said.
'Well, the Windrow thing is gonna be a problem,' Phillips said. 'We may not be able to get his name in front of a jury if we can't prove he's dead.'
'Prove it? We don't even know it,' Sanders said.
DISTRICT COURT JUDGE Don Hope was an older white-haired man with rimless glasses, and he said to Phillips, 'John, there hasn't been a fishing expedition this big since Teddy Roosevelt went up the Amazon.'
Phillips wiggled in his chair and said, 'Judge, I hate to hear that phrase, you know? The piscatorial reference? I'm not sure-'
'Yeah, yeah, piscatorial my ass. Well, enough people been killed, and I'm so old, what the hell could they do to me? Get me the paper and I'll sign it. Not that it doesn't violate my principles all to hell and gone.'
Virgil smiled and Hope asked, 'What're you smiling about?'
'That was a smile of approval,' Virgil said.
'You look like a smart-ass,' Hope said. 'What's that on your shirt?'
'A band,' Virgil said. 'The Appleseed Cast.'
'Never heard of them,' the judge said. 'They sound like a smart-ass band.'
'They are a smart-ass band,' Virgil agreed. 'Hey, thanks for the warrant, Your Honor. We'll make you proud.'
'That Wendy is a buxom lass,' the judge said. 'Hope she didn't do it.'
WITH THE WARRANT IN HAND, there was no huge rush to get out to Ashbach's place, and Sanders wanted to do it right, rather than do it fast. 'We're not gonna arrive at the last minute and save Windrow,' he said. 'If they were gunning for Windrow, he's already dead.'
'If Windrow isn't dead, if he's facedown drunk in some resort bar, I'll kill him myself,' Virgil said. 'You round up your guys, I'll get the crime-scene crew headed back this way. They'll be a couple hours getting here.'
SANDERS GOT THREE COPS from Grand Rapids, plus five deputies. The crime-scene crew would make twelve, plus Virgil, and the sheriff decided to go along-Little Linda was dead in the water. Fourteen people should nail the place down pretty well, Virgil thought. They gathered in a courtroom, and Virgil ran them through what he expected-but he didn't expect much trouble.
'The main thing we're looking for is the gun, or any.223 ammo, or anything that suggests they own a.223 bolt action, like a hunting photo. Especially look for a prairie-dog-shooting photograph. Then, of course, blood. Take a long look at Slibe Junior, if he's back, for any signs of injury. Windrow was driving a Jeep Commander… check car keys. We're gonna be out there for a while, so if you want to get a sandwich, or a couple of Cokes to take along, do it now…'
THEY WENT OUT in a long rolling caravan, as soon as the crime-scene people showed up, the sheriff leading the way, Virgil bringing up the rear. By the time he pulled in, cops were spilling all over the acreage, and Wendy came out on the steps of the double-wide and shouted, 'What the hell is this?'
The sheriff ignored her, knocked on Slibe's door, got no response, and Wendy came along, trailing Berni, and said, 'Dad's gone into town.'
'Then I'll give it to you, and you can pass it on,' the sheriff said. 'This is a search warrant for the premises of Slibe Ashbach and Slibe Ashbach LLC, doing business as Slibe Ashbach Septic amp; Grading. If you've got a key to the house, we won't have to kick down the door.'
'I got a key…' Then Wendy spotted Virgil: 'What the fuck are you doing? Virgil? What're you doing?'
'Something came up. I can't talk to you about it. I need to talk to your father,' Virgil said. 'Is the Deuce back?'
'I don't know. You'll have to look,' she said.
'In the house?'
'No, he's got the loft in the kennel.' They all turned and looked at the kennel building, and Virgil remembered that there'd been a light on last night.
'There was a light on there last night,' Virgil said. 'I thought you guys said he'd gone walkabout.'
'There's a light on there all the time,' Wendy said. 'It comes on at dark.'
'What for?'
'I don't know-something to do with the dogs.'
ONE OF THE COPS went with Wendy to get the key to the house, and Berni said to Virgil, 'There's gonna be trouble about this. You guys are going to get sued all over the place.'
'Do you know when Mr. Ashbach is expected to return?' the sheriff asked.
'I don't even know why he's gone,' she said. 'He took off a half-hour ago.'
'All right.' Wendy came back with the key, and the sheriff said, 'Well, let's get to it.'
