the paper the information is printed on before I allow anyone in narcotics to see it.”
Wiley chuckled. “You have no idea how competitive the world of narcotics investigations can be.”
“My experience is that all law enforcement is competitive. Narcotics is one of the few areas that’s easy to measure. Arrests or seized narcotics. Both play well in the news.”
“And thank God for it. If we didn’t get decent airplay now and then the FBI would steal every penny of funding we have coming our way.”
Stallings started to get up, saying, “I appreciate this. I have a meeting in less than an hour and this information will be vital.”
Wiley smiled. “If Ronald Bell says you’re a hard ass, you’re okay with me. If you were a little younger we could use you.”
“I’m happy where I am.” He stood and paused by the table, looking down at the DEA agent. “You don’t think Josh Hickam’s father is responsible for these deaths? I know we talked about it and you said he didn’t have it in him. I just don’t want to miss something.”
Wiley shook his head. “No way. You gave me the dates and places of the deaths and I checked all of them against our surveillance. He was at home. He’s hardly left that house for two years. We’ve got cameras, trackers, and the occasional live surveillance. Plus our intelligence from informants says the old man’s all done. His son’s death just took it out of him.”
“But you’re still going after him on a case?”
“Have to. He was a boss. He brought in a lot of product. You’ll see in the packet I gave you a list of associates. It’s long. A dozen of them have already been to jail. We can’t pick on the little guys without going after the kingpin once in a while.”
Stallings held out his hand and said, “You’re okay.”
Wiley took his hand and shook it, saying, “The DEA doesn’t hear that much. Thanks.”
Tony Mazzetti bristled every time someone else brought up a piece of information that supported the serial killer theory in the Tau Upsilon case. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the goddamn theory. It just felt like they were rubbing it in his face. Sitting around a big conference room table with everyone remotely involved in the case staring at him, he felt like a jackass. Somehow the only thing that mattered to him right now was that Patty Levine didn’t think he was a jackass.
That asshole John Stallings had provided a list of associates related to the pot smuggler whose son appeared to be the first victim in these lines of deaths. The victim, Josh Hickam, died of alcohol poisoning. Even Mazzetti’s current girlfriend, Lisa Kurtz, had confirmed that assessment. But now they were all pushing the angle that the deaths were somehow related to the pot business being run out of the fraternity.
Mazzetti picked up the list of more than forty names and said to Stallings, “What the fuck do you want me to do with this?”
Stallings stayed very calm and said, “First, check it against the list of Suburban owners whose license plates start with the letter A. We might get lucky and find the driver of the truck that ran down Zach Halston on the list. It’s just another group of suspects.”
Mazzetti was frustrated, but what Stallings was saying made sense. He still had to say, “Why not look at old man Hickam?”
“The DEA is all over him. I gave them a list of dates corresponding with the deaths of different Tau Upsilon members and he was at the house every single time. In fact, they say he very rarely leaves the house.”
Mazzetti shook his head and took a quick second to look at the face of each person at the table. Then he turned and handed the list to his partner, Sparky Taylor. Sparky had been quietly taking in the different conversations but had yet to say a word.
Mazzetti said, “Can you look through this bullshit, then use your computer brain to make sense of it?”
Sparky looked absolutely delighted.
Mazzetti realized this was a good assignment for his odd partner. He didn’t have to interact with anyone or anything other than a computer. It was perfect for him.
In an effort to kick-start the investigation, each pair of detectives took a list of names developed from owners of Suburbans that had license plates starting with the letter A. The entire effort made Stallings a little nervous; he hoped his eyesight was sharp enough that he had picked up the right letter on the license tag.
Sparky was still sorting out many of the names and intended to run them against the list of Hickam associates the DEA had provided. For now, Patty and Stallings had drawn eight names in the central part of the county. They were going to do simple knock and talks. They’d find the owner of the vehicle, knock on the door, and hope the person confessed or, more realistically, refuse to speak to with the police. That would earn them a spot on the suspect list. Another set of detectives was visiting local body shops hoping to find someone who had repaired front-end damage to a blue Suburban. The Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles didn’t accurately list the color of vehicles. Detectives had found that often vehicles were repainted in different colors or simply listed with the wrong color at the date of registration. In a case as important as this, they couldn’t rely on the simple designation on a vehicle registration.
Just as Stallings was about to exit the D-bureau he saw Lonnie Freed, the detective from the intelligence division whom he had asked to find out anything he could on someone named Gator. It seemed like an eternity since he had approached the detective and asked for help. He’d never told Lonnie the help had to do with finding his missing daughter, Jeanie.
The thin detective with wire-rimmed glasses smiled at Patty as she walked by and said, “How are you this fine morning, Detective Levine?”
Patty gave him her standard smile and nod. She was so used to men hitting on her she didn’t even acknowledge it most days.
Stallings saw some papers in Lonnie’s hand and told Patty catch up to her a few minutes. He looked at the intel detective and said, “Whatcha got, Lonnie?”
“I’ve been working on the description and street name ‘Gator’ that you gave me.”
“You mean you found him?”
“Not exactly. Based on the information you gave me and the description I’ve come up with twenty-eight possibilities in North Florida. These are just men who’ve been mentioned in police reports or indexed news reports through any of the indexing services we subscribe to.” He handed the thick bundle of papers to Stallings.
Stallings looked down and saw that there was a photograph associated with every report. Some of the photographs were from booking at the jail, some driver’s license photos, a few surveillance photos, and a few from sources he couldn’t identify. He looked up at the scrawny detective and said, “This is great, thanks.” He turned to place the papers on his desk.
Lonnie said, “Is this on the fraternity case? I heard it might be big.”
Stallings shrugged and said, “Sort of.”
“Do you think you might be able to get me involved in the case?”
“It’s not up to me, Lonnie.”
“I busted my ass to find all the stuff. Come on, speak up for me. Maybe I can tell the lieutenant how helpful I’ve been already?”
Stallings quickly turned to keep the intel detective from doing anything stupid. “No, no, I’ll see what I can do.” He knew the sergeant wouldn’t turn down help, but he was hoping to keep it quiet. Then Sparky Taylor walked by and an idea popped into Stallings’s head, making him reach out and grab the portly detective by the arm. “Sparky, you know Lonnie from Intelligence, don’t you?”
Sparky nodded and said, “I am familiar with the detective.”
“I think he could be a big help working with you on the lists of names.”
Sparky gave a slight scowl and said, “I can handle it.”
Lonnie cut in, “But I’m good with databases.”
“I am utilizing Microsoft Access for most of this.”
“I know Access inside and out. We could use the databases we’re hooked into in intelligence if we need to.” Lonnie looked like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. “I’d love the chance to work with you. I applied to go into tech, but never got in.”
