Ricky Tondo looked up and engaged his sneer-smile when Sophia entered the lounge. "I saw you were having a hard time in there."
Sophia exhaled and dropped into a chair next to Ricky at the big central table.
"Lots of chairs." He swung his hand around the room. "Why are you all cozy all of a sudden?"
"Because other people will come in, and I want to talk to you."
Ricky scowled. "So talk."
"First, how often does something like that happen? My patient's behavior, I mean."
"He's fairly typical of an out of control meth abuser. Violent, abusive, paranoid, sleepless. They often don't eat, don't sleep, and maintain an extreme activity level. Some get sexually excited and may assault their girlfriends, wives, or even strangers."
"It's worse to deal with than to read about in the orientation materials."
"You got that right, girl."
"The patient's wife implied there is a big shot dealer in Plateauville."
"There is. We hear about it all the time. Never a name though." He looked thoughtful. "Be careful asking questions. There are also rumors of police involvement or maybe protection. Something along those lines."
Ricky's uncharacteristically friendly answers and forthcoming manner encouraged her to continue. "Did you see a lot of meth abuse at Jackson in Miami?"
"Sure. Big inner-city hospital."
"Do you know anything about the meth scene in Miami?"
"A bit, I suppose. I have a friend who is a social user. Tried to offer me some, but I told him I'd seen the effect too many times."
"I ask because I read that a lot of the supplies come in through Miami, the pseudoephedrine especially."
"I think it's probably true enough. There are some major labs—we got victims from the explosions—and several big suppliers. I know because the meth heads would come in complaining about the supply. That sort of thing."
"Do you know any names?"
"Why are you asking?"
She told him about the explosion on Dripping Springs Drive. "I've been poking around some, just so I can understand where Ray—he's my fiancé and the new detective in Plateauville—is coming from when he talks about his cases."
"Okay. Basically, you're an interfering female who wishes she were still a cop."
Sophia objected to his description, but didn't voice her concerns. Instead, she said, "Maybe so."
"I'll call my friend later."
***
Sophia pulled the MINI off to the right when she saw Ray make the turn past the golf course's clubhouse. She knew she'd leave first in the morning, so she wanted her car to be in the rear. That could backfire, she supposed, if he got called out later. After he parked, she pulled in.
"Hi. How was your day?" She closed the car door and hurried to catch him. She stood on tiptoes and accepted a gentle kiss.
"Had a good day. Maybe making a little progress."
"What did you learn?" Sophia grinned.
"For one thing, everyone is related to everyone in these parts. For example, Jim Johnson is a distant cousin to the Vasts."
"It's no different where I grew up in North Dakota or where you grew up in Virginia for that matter. But it still seems like a conflict to me."
"Maybe, but without it, there would be no deputies at all. He doesn't seem overly impressed by the connection." Ray explained the relationship of Richie and LeRoy Vast as he keyed the door and stepped inside.
Sophia bent and picked up the dog, cuddling her close and accepting her wet licks. "How about you walk Mischief, and I'll hop in the shower and try to think of some miracle to put on the dinner table."
Ray grabbed the leash, took Mischief from Sophia's arms, and headed out the door.
Sophia stripped off her uniform and stuffed it into the laundry bag, then showered, and dressed in worn jeans and an old tee shirt.
When Ray and Mischief returned—they had a long walk—her head was stuck in the refrigerator. "Okay, this is good. I've got yesterday's grilled chicken, half a jar of pesto, makings of a salad, and pasta. I call that dinner." She set several containers on the counter, pushed them against the back splash, and grabbed a pot and a sauté pan off the open storage shelf next to the fridge.
"Works." He retrieved a bag of kibble from under the sink, filled the dog's dish, and set it near her water bowl. Then he grabbed a cold beer. "Want one?"
"Yuk. I'll take wine. There's an open bottle of Pinot Grigio." While Ray poured her wine, she started her preparations. The one thing she had learned in the short time they'd lived in the little house was that with four total feet of counter space, it was essential to be systematic—and simple—with meal preparation. "When we move again, I want lots of counter space."
Ray laughed. "We'll see to it." He took the salad fixings to the table, sat, and began working.
"Thanks," Sophia said, setting a kettle of water on the stove to boil. "I had a patient today who was whacked-out on meth. That's a clinical term, by the way." She laughed. "Anyway, his wife told me his source is a big shot in Plateauville. She looked scared and refused to tell me more. Then, I was talking to Ricky—"
"That's the guy from Miami that annoys you."
"Yes, Ricky Tondo. Anyway, he said they hear about the Plateauville connection a lot, and the meth heads also claim there's involvement with the police."
"Sorry to say, none of that is new news. I think the big shot's name is Silken, aka. Silky."
"Is there involvement in the department? Ricky said he's gotten wind about people paying protection. And, he told me to watch myself if I kept asking questions."
"That was going to be my next point. I rattled Silken's cage today." He pulled a folded paper from his shirt pocket. "Here's the carry permit application. Fill it out. Meanwhile, your Florida permit will cover you."
"Know that already."
"Take the Sig with you, like you did in Florida the last time you pissed someone off. We'll head out to the range Sunday before we go to Knoxville and let you get in some practice."
"Ray, I—"
"Listen, girl. We made a deal. If you play, you pay. You will carry your weapon, or you will not be involved, ever, in my cases. And, you'll transfer out of that damn ED to someplace safe at the first opportunity."
Sophia exhaled, then nodded. "Okay. We did have a deal. I'll do it." She pouted and cooked with no further comments for several minutes. Then, she said, "There is more."
"What?" Ray's voice was gentle. He stepped in behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his bearded chin on her head.
"Ricky called his buddy in Florida this afternoon. I asked him to. I'd been asking him about the meth scene in Miami, admissions to Jackson, that sort of thing. Anyway, his friend told him his supplier was named Krantz. Isn't that the name of the deputy who keeps popping up and is in your face?"
"It is. What I don't understand is why you think it's relevant, or why you would even ask. Or for that matter, how your mind works sometimes."
"I read an article at the library on Tuesday about Silken moving here from Florida. Then I poked around about the meth scene in Florida and found out a lot of the supplies come into the country through Florida from South America. I was just thinking, sorting it out in my mind. Then when Ricky mentioned the guy's name was Krantz, I thought there might be a connection."
"It would explain some things. That's for sure." Ray seemed lost in thought as he sliced five times more onion than the salads needed. "Oh, by the way. You did save Flocker. The IV contained propofol—I think I said it right—probably not enough to kill him, however. Perhaps the purpose was to scare him or send a warning."
"Were there any prints on the tubing or IV bag?"
"A couple as yet unidentified partials on the tubing. None from the nurse who originally started the IV."
"She might have worn gloves." "
"They found lots of prints, yours included, on the pump."
"So, it was someone who knows their way around hospitals
and drugs."
"I'd say so. Yes," Ray said.
Chapter 15
Ray
Ray started the Friday workday at seven-thirty with a return visit to the Plateau Cafe, which sat across the street from Silken's Dry Goods. His purpose was twofold. First, he wanted a chance to meet and talk to the locals over coffee. Second, the location provided him an opportunity to see the early morning activity at Silken's.
Five men sat around the six-top table near the large front window.
"Good morning." Ray approached the table and pointed to the empty chair, which had a good view of the street. "May I?"
"You're the new detective." An older man with a dusting of white hair, dress shirt, and tie extended a hand. "Have a seat. I'm Bob Fitz. I run the bank."
"Nice to meet you."
Each of the other men introduced themselves. Sam Sloan owned a small local grocery. George Schmidt was the pharmacist at Plateau Drugs. John Johnson operated an auto body shop and was Officer Jim Johnson's father. Archie Bib was the mayor and the owner of Plateau Cafe.
Bib, who looked to be pushing seventy-five, pointed to a sign on the wall. "I keep hoping to sell this place. I like it just fine, mind you. I'm just ready to retire." He half stood. "Elma, can you bring the detective a cup of coffee, please? Elma May is my wife. She does most of the work around here, truth be."
Elma hurried to the table with the coffee pot. She turned over the cup in front of Ray and poured. "Nice to see you again, Detective."
"Thank you, Elma May." Ray sipped, then ordered eggs, biscuits and gravy, and grits. It wasn't his usual morning choice, but he thought the selections would serve his purpose.
"Southern boy?" Sloan said.
"Born and raised in Virginia."
The men asked questions about his personal and policing background, and he replied, keeping a casual tone and providing the basic information. He knew anything he said would be common knowledge around town by noon.
As the conversation continued, Ray watched a Sheriff's Department yellow and white SUV park across the street and Bobby Krantz emerge from the vehicle. The door to the store opened, and Silken stepped aside to admit him. Ray thought Silken expected Krantz's visit.
The conversation continued around him. Ray wanted to ask about Krantz's history in the town, but thought better of the idea. He'd wait to get the mayor alone, then, perhaps, the conversation would be confidential.
"So, Detective," John Johnson said, "my son tells me you've got yourself a full plate already, what with all the meth lab issues around here."
"He's right. The chief assigning him to me has been very helpful."
"Jim has aspirations to be a detective."
"We'll see what we can do to help him get up to speed."
"I'd appreciate it."
Elma delivered the meals to everyone at the table, and the conversation lagged as the men ate.
Ray finished first, declined a coffee refill, and took his leave after assuring the men he'd join them for breakfast when he could.
He drove the short way to the department and noticed Krantz's vehicle parked to the right of the building in court employees' parking. There wasn't a session scheduled, and, usually, the lot was empty until the clerk arrived at ten. The police section contained two pickup trucks, which Ray knew belonged to the officers on patrol, two patrol cars, Ray's Taurus, and another small pickup belonging to the dispatcher. Mullins wasn't in yet. Neither was Johnson, who was scheduled to meet Ray at nine.
Ray elected to enter the department through the public entrance facing the street. He used a passkey, eased the door open, and stepped down the hall at a quiet, measured pace.
A light glowed under his office door.
When Ray opened the door, Krantz looked up from an open file in the middle of the desk.
"What in the hell are you doing in my office and in my files?"
"Just checking on you, you interfering son of a bitch. Seeing if you know what—"
"Get out of my chair." Ray loomed over Krantz. He pointed to the visitor chair. "Sit there."
Krantz raised an eyebrow. "And, who's going to make me?"
Ray, who towered over Krantz and outweighed him by fifty pounds, grabbed him by the collar. "I'd be happy to." He lifted him without resistance and planted him in a side chair with some force. "Stay."
The color rose in Krantz's face, but he remained in the chair.
Ray perched on the desk at an angle to block Krantz's exit, then looked at the file the deputy had opened. It was a summary of the visits to Vast's and Flocker's homesteads. He pulled his cell phone out, set it to record, and placed it on the desk, then took a moment to set the scene. "You know this information is available at the sheriff's office from Shim."
Krantz said, "He told me to stop by and talk to you. When you weren't here, I thought I'd have a look."
Ray picked up the desk phone and called Shim. "Got Krantz here. Caught him going through my files. Did you send him to talk to me?" Ray listened. "Thought so. Hang on a minute."
"Krantz, why were you in Bubba Flocker's room the day before yesterday?"
"I wasn't."
"Short memory. You came in as I was leaving. We spoke."
"I forgot."
'What were you doing there?"
"Just my job. Following up on the explosion at Flocker's place."
"Did Shim know you were there?"
"Uh."
Ray picked up the phone. "You getting this?" He listened. "Good. What do you have on the prints from the IV tubing?" Again, he listened. "Let me know when you have something."
Krantz's face changed from angry red to pale.
"Here's the deal. Shim is going to talk to the sheriff about you going rogue. How does that work for you?"
"I'm not going rogue. I live in this community, too. We all want what's best and getting rid of the meth labs is what's best."
"If you say so." Ray shifted forward. "Tell me, why were you at Silken's place an hour ago? Place doesn't open until nine."
"I wasn't there."
"I saw you. In fact, it looked like Silken expected you. Why?"
"Um, I stopped to check on a special order for my wife."
"That's interesting. What did she order?"
"It's none of your business."
"Now it is. What did she order that couldn't wait an hour?"
"Okay. I stopped in to say hello."
"Odd. But it does explain a few things." Ray stood and stepped back. "This is not finished. Stay out of my way. I've got this conversation recorded." He pointed to his cell phone.
***
Ray watched Chief Mullins step through the PD entrance, stop and talk with the dispatcher, Netty Casper, then proceed to Ray's office door. He nodded and took a single step into the office.
"Heard you had breakfast with the men at the cafe this morning."
"News travels fast."
"Small town. Archie Bib called me. He was happy you were social. He said it pleased the men to know you have Southern roots. It was a smart move."
"Thanks. I didn't know Bib was the mayor until I sat down. Seems a friendly sort."
"He's owned the cafe for as long as anyone can remember. It won't be the same when he finds someone to buy it."
Ray nodded. "Got a minute?"
"Let me grab a cup of coffee." The chief disappeared and returned a couple of minutes later with two steaming cups. "Black. Right?"
"Yes, sir."
"What's on your mind?"
Ray took a minute to describe Krantz's sneaky parking, his going through Ray's files, and the meeting with Krantz. "Shim denied sending Krantz to see Flocker, or anyone else in the case for that matter. He thinks Krantz is going rogue and will discuss it with the sheriff today. Further, we suspect Silken may be involved with high-level drug trafficking in and around the county."
"True."
"Someone, apparently, is tipping off the labs every time a bust is scheduled by the sheriff or us."
; "Largely true."
"Krantz has an inside track on the sheriff's information and ours as well because so many of the operations involve the sheriff and our department."
"Sometimes, but not every time."
"It seems logical we need to consider that Krantz is the leak. Why would he be stopping at Silken's at eight in the morning? Why did he feel like he needed to lie when I asked?"
"Well, for one thing, Carl Silken is Krantz's uncle by marriage," Mullins said. "Krantz's Aunt Sheila, Silken's wife, has been connected to the community for years through her sister and their extended family."
"The soup thickens."
"It doesn't mean he isn't the leak. It also doesn't mean he didn't tamper with Flocker's IV." He looked thoughtful. "When was Shim planning to speak with the sheriff?"
"He was headed that way an hour ago."
"Good. I'll give the sheriff a call and ask him to reassign Krantz to another area of the county."
"Works for me."
"He'll have another reason to hate you."
Ray said, "I've been hated by dirty cops before. Seems like a compliment."
Mullins laughed. "Where you headed today?"
"As soon as Johnson shows, we're going to take another go at Kelly Ann Vast."
***
Ray and Johnson rolled up in front of Vast's mobile home. Ray couldn't help but think it was a horrible environment for an infant, especially with a single mother. He had suspicions Vast was alive. At some point, they'd find him. Then he'd still be gone from his family while he served time.
Mrs. Vast slammed through the trailer door and stomped onto the porch, a series of movements made all the more impressive by her advanced pregnancy. "What in the hell do you want now?"
"That's not very friendly, Kelly Ann." Johnson walked toward the porch and started up the steps.
She looked past Johnson, making eye contact with Ray. "You want to go through my house again? It's the same as yesterday."
"No, ma'am, we don't. I do want to ask you some questions, however," Ray said.
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