Twelve
Phil came in off his shift at about seven a.m., to take care of the night’s paperwork and, much more importantly, to get the coffee brewing before Chief Mullins came in at eight. Susan hadn’t asked him how things had gone at Sallee’s when he’d come back to the station last night to change back into his uniform; perhaps she sensed his mental disarray.
What a night…
The entirety of his shift was haunted by thoughts and images of Vicki Steele.
He tried to clear his head, and sat at Mullins’ big desk to finish off his DOR, but then he noticed the sheet of paper on the blotter. MISSING PERSON’S REPORT, it read; somebody named Orndorf had been reported missing by somebody named Sullivan. “Hey, Susan,” he called out. “What’s this missing person’s report here on the chief’s desk?”
Susan, from her commo cubby, answered rather snidely, “It’s…a missing person’s report.”
“Funny. I mean, what’s the scoop? You know either of these guys?”
“Nope.”
“How’d this guy Sullivan look?”
“Like a typical creep. He came in about an hour ago, filed the report because he said he hadn’t seen his buddy Orndorf in several weeks.”
Phil’s eyes scanned down the sheet of paper. “Why’d he file it here? These guys don’t even live in Crick City.”
“Yeah, but the last place Orndorf was seen was in our juris. At Krazy Sallee’s as a matter of fact.”
Sallee’s? Hmmm. But why should Phil even care? Nine times out of ten, a missing persons was nothing. The guy probably owed a bundle in alimony or child support, so he blew town and didn’t tell anyone. Happened all the time.
He went back to his DOR, but still, something was bothering him. Eagle’s words: She’s into a whole lot of shit that you don’t want to hear about.
“Hey, Susan,” he called out again. “Do me a favor and run a rap check on Vicki Steele, will ya?”
Did she actually chuckle? “Checking out the ex, huh?”
“Don’t break my chops. Just do it, okay?”
“All right. Give me a minute.”
Phil waited, tapping Mullins’ blotter with a pencil-end. From Susan’s cubby, he heard computer keys clicking. Then:
“Nothing,” she said when her terminal responded.
He tapped the blotter some more, thinking. “Run a check on Eagle Peters,” he said next.
“Who?”
“Eagle Peters. Long time resident, he might be into something. His real first name is James.”
Another flurry of clicking keys. Probably nothing on him, either, he supposed.
“He might be into something, huh?” Susan came back a minute later. “This guy’s got three outstanding traffic warrants, three suspended sentences, and four narcotics busts.”
“You’re kidding me. Eagle?”
“Yeah, Eagle. And that’s not all. He served three years on a five-year sentence in Clay County Prison.”
Phil fell silent, tapping the desk more rapidly. This information left him partly excited, partly disappointed. But it wasn’t for another moment that the most pertinent question of all occurred to him.
“The jail stint—that was narcotics?”
“Yep,” Susan answered. “Possession, transport, and intent to distribute.”
“To distribute what?”
“Your pet peeve. Synthetic phencyclidine.”
PCP. Paydirt.
Phil sat a moment more; now he felt geared up. Eagle would be the perfect schmooze. He didn’t know Phil was a cop, plus they were childhood friends. If Eagle was in deep, he could lead them right to Natter…
“Hey, Susan?”
“Yeeees,” she groaned.
“Do me a favor and run raps on these guys too, Orndorf and Sullivan.”
“You know, whenever we run a rap check through the county mainframe, the department gets charged.”
“I don’t care,” Phil almost snapped. “Just run the raps…pretty please.”
“Well, in that case…” More clicking, more waiting. Then: “You got some sense of foresight. Both guys have several priors, same thing. Possession with intent to distribute.”
“PCP?”
“Ten-four.”
Well well well, Phil thought. This was getting downright interesting. Phil poured some coffee, oblivious to its acrid tang. Three rap checks in a row, three base hits on PCP busts. He couldn’t wait to tell Mullins.
Mullins…
Then Phil looked at the cracked VFW clock mounted above the chief’s shooting trophies.
“Hey, Susan?”
“What now! You want me to run a rap check on Snow White?”
“No, but how about the Easter Bunny? He hangs out at Sallee’s, too… Where’s Chief Mullins? It’s almost eight-thirty.”
A pause, then, “You’re right. He’s never late.”
“Maybe he’s hungover.”
“Naw, he quit drinking years ago.”
“Maybe you should call him. Maybe he forgot to set his alarm clock or something.”
“I doubt it,” she said, but then he could hear her dialing anyway…
“No answer.”
That’s weird. Then he shrugged. “He’ll be in. He’s probably waiting in the donut line at the Qwik-Stop.”
“Now that’s a possibility.”
Well, looks like I’m stuck here till he comes in. He killed some time calling the county hospital, the lockup, and the morgue, but no one by the name of Kevin Orndorf had checked in. Then he called the state and had them run the name on their blotter program.
Nothing.
“Hey, Phil?”
We really should get an intercom, he thought. “Yes?”
“You ever gonna ask me out again, or should I just give up?”
Phil almost spat his coffee out all over Mullins’ desk. He tried to recover as quickly as he could, but what could he say? The smart-ass approach, he decided, might be best. “Hey, I already asked, but you were too busy. Remember? My rule is to never ask more than three times. Women have to stand in line to go out with me, I’ll have you know. Sometimes they pay.”
Susan shrieked a laugh.
“And if my memory serves me correctly, Ms. Ryder, your three chances have already been expended.” Phil smiled at his own cockiness, even though, from her commo cubby, she couldn’t see him. “It’s like baseball,” he told her. “Three strikes, and you’re out.”
“Hey!” she shot back. “I can’t help it if you only ask me out on days I have class.”
“Well, I suppose you’re right, so just to show you I’m a man of character and fairness, I’ll give you an unprecedented fourth opportunity to be graced by my presence.” He paused for effect. “You want to go out tonight?”
“I can’t. I have class.”
Phil winced. “You evil, toying, malicious—”
“But tomorrow would be great,” she interrupted. “Call me when you manage to drag your behind out of bed.”
