Imperfect Escape

by Gregg E. Brickman

"That's what he said."

  Mullins looked thoughtful. "The county will go after him anyway."

  "Maybe not. Shim has it worked out. If Bubba testifies against Silken—and Vast when we get our hands on him—they'll cut him a deal. He'll get minimal time, plus probation."

  "Then what? Silken, if I guess right, has the capability of ordering a retaliatory hit—make an example of him."

  "My sense is Flocker has no real threat from Vast, who is just a worker in the supply chain—but Silken's a bigger player." Ray paused a moment. "There is a long-standing connection between Silken and the drug traffic in South Florida. He left there some years ago, but has, I think, maintained his connections. He may even be a supplier for them, as well as for product along the meth belt."

  "Go on."

  "I've contacted my former partner in South Florida, Deg Lewis, and asked him to check things out for me on the quiet. If what I believe is true, then not only the raw supplies but the finished product are moving across county lines and state lines in a big way. The county will then bring in TBI and the DEA."

  "The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and the Drug Enforcement Administration will complicate things."

  Ray nodded. "Yup, but for Flocker, it'll make things easier. Likely, Silken would be incarcerated out-of-state, and the Federal Witness Protection Program would then be a possibility for Flocker."

  "When do you expect to hear from Lewis?"

  "He's going to Miami to ask informal questions tomorrow. If it pans out, Shim can follow with TBI, then the feds. They'll pull all the pieces together."

  "Meanwhile, to maintain focus, our piece of the puzzle is the incident in Vast's lab and the resulting deaths. We have an open murder case—more than just a drug case—even though it's all mixed together."

  "I know that." Ray felt offended, but understood Mullins need to supervise his activities until he was a known entity. He swallowed the comment he wanted to make. "Flocker saw a huge, unknown person driving away from the explosion at Vast's in what looked like a sub-compact rental, at least based on the Budget logo on the license plate frame. That suggests imported talent. I figure after Flocker refused to blow the place, Silken moved on, but he still needed a certain level of output, so he started muscling Flocker to up production."

  "Lots of suppositions on your part."

  "Agreed."

  "Keep poking at it." Mullins took a sip from the cup on his desk. "Nasty. Cold coffee."

  "I'll fix that." Ray picked up Mullins's cup and his own, went to the break room, and refilled both with fresh, hot brew. He returned, pulled the office door closed behind him, offered the cup to Mullins, and sat. "What else is on your mind?"

  Mullins stared at the closed door, then nodded. "Deputy Krantz."

  "Thought he was out of the picture, at least in this town."

  "He's still badmouthing you to anyone who will listen. After the scuffle you two had in the parking lot—bad move on your part, by the way—the sheriff got involved. Krantz has been ordered to stay outside our area in any official capacity and to stay away from the Silken-Vast-Flocker meth lab fiasco. Krantz blames you for his troubles. The concern is he lives in our jurisdiction, so there will always be some interaction. It also makes it likely he'll be yammering in town to anyone who'll listen."

  "I'll do my best to stay clear."

  "The sheriff called to express his concerns. Now, you need to know that he also discussed you with Shim, who gave you a vote of full confidence. At the moment, Shim's endorsement trumps Krantz's opinion around the Sheriff's Department, but Krantz won't shut up. Believe me."

  "Let him talk. In my experience, eventually those types self-destruct anyway." Ray sipped from his mug. "This isn't bad for department coffee."

  "Not when it's hot." Mullins set his cup on the desk. "We still have to unravel how our plans for raids got out into the community. In most cases, Krantz—who we now know has a direct connection to Silken—wasn't involved."

  "He could be tapping into the plans at any point along the information path. From someone here. During meetings in Crestville. When he's assigned to the raid."

  "That's the catch," Mullins said. "He hasn't been assigned to any of the raids. The sheriff checked the last half-dozen joint ventures, and Krantz was not in the loop. The other thing he said was they play things very close, involve the narcs, and only the narcs."

  "Which doesn't explain how Krantz always manages to be in the vicinity and involved. I went back to the reports here, and there's always some mention of Deputy Krantz. Usually, he happens on scene after the raid came up empty, sometimes he shows up early to join in. Further, he was involved after the blasts and insinuated himself into the investigations."

  "Which means?"

  "I think he has an accomplice here, in this office, who is feeding him the information."

  "And who might that be?" Mullins turned red. "We keep our information on a need-to-know basis."

  Ray nodded in the direction of the dispatch desk where Ope sat busily taking calls. Ray lowered his voice. "The morning Krantz was in my office. Ope knew he was there, but didn't warn me. I've seen them chatting, friendly-like."

  "I don't think—well, maybe." Mullins bit his bottom lip and looked past Ray toward where Ope worked.

  ***

  Ray drove by Silken's Dry Goods and verified that Silken's Silverado 2500 was in its usual spot in the alley behind the store, then headed to the neighborhood behind the golf course to see if Silken's wife was home. Ray had stopped by the house almost every day since his interview with Silken the previous week, but she was never home.

  The Cove subdivision stretched from the main road, where the golf course occupied a prime location, to the bluffs on both the south and west. Over sixty miles of roads spanned the area. Many of the homes on the lots away from the bluff were affordable. He and Sophia planned to buy or build one when the time was right—meaning he knew his job was secure. The homes on the bluff lots were another matter entirely. They were custom built and expensive with designs maximizing the mountain views. They had long curving drives and wooded acreage to the front and dramatic decks to the rear.

  As before, Ray eased the Taurus down the long drive, expecting to turn around near the house. This time, however, there was a sleek Mercedes convertible sitting in the drive. The top was up and littered with a scattering of leaves, attesting to the probability it had sat there all night. Ray parked behind the car and made his way to the house and knocked on the door.

  Like its invisible neighbors that were hidden by the trees, the house was immense. It looked to be made of cedar and had two levels of open decks encircling the structure. Windows, extending from top to bottom, reflected the morning sun. Though most of the lot was in its natural state, the plantings near the house bloomed with color. Life must be good running a dry goods store, Ray thought.

  "Sheila Silken?" Ray said. He studied the stunning tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties who answered the door. She wore pearls with designer jeans. He held up his badge for her to see. "I'm Detective Stone. I have a few questions for you."

  The woman smiled. "You must be the new man I read about." Her grammar was perfect, but her accent was syrupy.

  "Yes, ma'am." He thought perhaps Carl Silken hadn't mentioned their conversation to her.

  "Did something happen in the neighborhood, Detective?"

  "Can I come in, please?"

  She stepped away from the door and motioned for him to enter. The large room stretched from the front door to a wall of glass. Several cozy seating areas provided views of both the bluff beyond the deck and the large fireplace to the right. No electronics were in view, and Ray assumed there was a family room, and perhaps a theater, elsewhere in the house.

  He crossed to the window and looked. "Beautiful view."

  "We like it."

  "Too bad you can see the properties on Dripping Springs Drive."

  "I suppose it is. I rarely look that way, but we live in Tennessee. Places like tha
t are a reality." She pointed to a conversation grouping. "Have a seat, Detective."

  He did. "Have you been out of town? I've stopped by a couple of times during the last week."

  "I was visiting my parents in Atlanta. I go every couple of weeks. They're elderly, obviously, so I feel it's good to see them. This time my mother had surgery, so I stayed a few days."

  "You were raised in Atlanta?"

  "I was. Carl and I moved to Miami after we married." Mrs. Silken paused. "What is this visit about, Detective?"

  "I'm looking into a concern about the funds from the Women's Club Craft sale." Ray kept his voice casual and friendly.

  "Oh, my. Why? Was there a complaint?"

  "No, I think just a concern. Your husband told me the money was stolen when the store was robbed last week. Tell me about the money raised at the last sale and what was done with it."

  She pursed her lips for a moment, and Ray thought she might deflect the question.

  Mrs. Silken said, "The sale was last Wednesday afternoon. We finished around five, so the bank was closed. I stopped by to talk to Carl. He suggested I leave the money in the safe there, and he'd put it in the bank the next day. Then he forgot to move it from under the tray in the register to the safe when he closed up at six."

  "How much was involved?"

  "We had a good sale. There was two hundred dollars." She looked puzzled. "It's not a problem, though. I just wrote a check and made an online deposit into the club account. It was my responsibility, after all."

  Ray thought Silken was taking advantage of the robbery to pad his insurance claim since he'd claimed the club losses were two grand.

  "Do you usually take the money from the sales to the store and have him do the deposits the next day?"

  "No. It was because I was headed out of town that evening. That's all."

  Ray looked around the room, being obvious about it. "This is a lot of house to afford on income from a small store in a town with a depressed economy. Did you bring private money to the marriage, perhaps?"

  "I don't know what this has to do with the money from the club sale. You seem to be making a big deal about it."

  "Just go with the questions for a minute, please. I'll make my point."

  She half-smiled, her expression curious. "I had a little money set aside from an inheritance. But, not much, not really. Carl does well in the store. That's one of the reasons we moved here from Miami. He wanted a fresh start and a chance to excel before he retired."

  "How long were you here before you built the house?"

  "Oh, three years, I guess. We struggled a bit at first, but things are good now."

  "Do you help in the store?"

  I'm not involved at all, but I do see the tax returns. The truth is, I've been surprised about how well he does."

  Ray thought Silken did well laundering drug money. "Someone made the allegation your husband is involved in the methamphetamine business in the area, perhaps even running most of it. Do you know anything about that?"

  "So that's why you're here." She rose and pointed to the door. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Carl is a good man. A fine citizen. Get out of my house."

  Chapter 22

  Ray

  On Wednesday morning, Ray stood in the front yard outside the little rental house watching Mischief complete her morning's business, part of which included sniffing every blade of grass in the vicinity. Because of her flat Boston terrier face, she tipped her head down in a pronounced fashion to get her nostrils close to the object of her interest.

  It was early, not yet six-thirty, so Ray had plenty of time. He sipped his coffee, enjoyed the cool mountain air, and planned his day. His cell phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts.

  "Stone."

  "Got a possible car theft. Thought you'd want to be involved, start your Wednesday morning off right." Johnson's voice drifted though the connection's static. "The victim is George Schmidt, friend of the mayor and the chief."

  "Okay, I'll head in."

  Johnson was involving him at the get-go. The historic limited resources in the department meant officers handled everything that came their way. At one time, they called the county sheriff for big cases. Now, they had a detective on staff, and the victim was well-connected. It made sense to call Ray rather than just write a report.

  He interrupted Mischief's sniffing, returned her to the house, and drove the short distance into town to the address Johnson supplied.

  Ray parked on the street in front of a well-kept, older home on North Holly Street. As he walked up the path to the front door, he noted three late-model vehicles in the driveway, a Chevy truck, a Lexus, and a Lincoln. He wondered what was stolen.

  A man of about sixty answered the door. "Good morning, Detective."

  "Morning, George." Ray had met the man over coffee in the local cafe. He was one of the town's pharmacists in addition to being politically well connected. "I understand you've had a vehicle stolen."

  "That I have." Schmidt stepped back and motioned Ray into the entry foyer. He led the way to a modernized kitchen—decked out in stainless steel, black-patterned granite, and rich-looking oak cabinets. "Have a seat." Schmidt produced a mug of coffee.

  "Thanks for the hospitality." Ray opened his notebook and poised a pen. "Tell me about the theft. Start with the make and model of the car."

  "It's a 2011 Volkswagen. It was gone when I got up this morning."

  "Seems odd someone would take that and leave the other vehicles alone."

  "Probably not. I confess to leaving it unlocked with a key under the mat." His expression was sheepish. "The others are locked and alarmed."

  "Why, may I ask, are you so lax about the Volkswagen?"

  "I'm usually not. My grandson called last night and wanted to borrow it. His car is in the shop. I put it out front for him."

  "Are you sure he didn't take it?"

  "Yes, I'm sure. He woke me when he couldn't find it."

  Ray got more details from Schmidt.

  As he finished, he received a text from Johnson saying, I've found the car. The street name and approximate address followed.

  Ray stood. "Johnson found your car."

  "Where?"

  "On a side street about a mile from here."

  "I don't know what it's doing there." George looked puzzled.

  "I'll let you know what happens."

  "Fine." George walked Ray to the door, locking it as Ray stepped onto the porch.

  Ray spent the short drive to the stolen vehicle's location marveling at someone who was so careful to lock the door and yet so careless with a vehicle. He supposed the theft heightened Schmidt's awareness.

  Johnson stood next to his patrol unit about twenty feet behind a banged-up, white Volkswagen, which sat well away from any of the small houses on the block.

  Ray parked his Ram across the street and joined Johnson. "Any idea which house the perp lives it?"

  "I'm guessing the second one on the right."

  Ray grinned. A path of muddy boot tracks led from the driver's door on the vehicle to the steps of the house. "Good thing crooks aren't too bright. Really increases our solve rates."

  Deciding to err on the side of caution, Ray unclipped the strap holding his weapon in place. He put his hand on the weapon and knocked on the door with the other hand.

  There was no response.

  Ray banged again on the door. "Open up. Police."

  This time, there was shuffling behind the door and the sound of the lock being turned. Ray motioned to Johnson to stand on the left of the door, while Ray moved to his right.

  When the door opened, a disheveled, bed-headed man opened the door. Ray judged the emaciated male to be in his mid-thirties.

  "What's goin' on?" He looked at Johnson. "Jim, why are you here?"

  Johnson said, "This is Ken Hinter. He's one of our local meth heads."

  "Charming." Ray stepped into the doorway. "Mr. Hinter, we need to talk about the car you stole."<
br />
  Hinter looked confused. "Okay, man. Come on in."

  The small living room looked like it hadn't seen a vacuum cleaner or dust rag in several years. Every surface held fast food wrappers, trash, and empty soda cans. A glass bong gleamed on the kitchen table. A plastic bag containing white substance sat next to it. Ray thought Hinter's priorities spoke for themselves. A key was close by. He stepped closer and identified it as belonging to a Volkswagen.

  Ray said, "We're going to have to arrest you for stealing the vehicle."

  Hinter blinked, laughed. "That's Uncle George's car, man. He told me to take it."

  "Johnson, go outside and call Schmidt. I'll stay here with Hinter and talk about his pile of meth."

  "Hinter, sit down."

  He sat.

  "Where'd you get the meth?"

  "Thought this was about the damn car."

  "Started out that way. Now I want to know about the meth. Do you cook it yourself?"

  "Hell no. Man can get blowed up that way."

  "Where do you buy it?"

  "What's it worth to you if I say?"

  "I'll talk to the chief about reducing the charges."

  "Okay, man, that's fair." Hinter looked thoughtful. "I got the last bag down at the dry goods store."

  Ray raised a brow. "You went into the store and bought meth?"

  "No, man. I went behind the store, by the loading dock. Supplier is there sometimes."

  "Who is the supplier?"

  "Skinny guy who worked for LeRoy. Don't know who he works for now."

  "When did you buy it?"

  "Yesterday around lunch time. I think. I guess. Maybe."

  Ray put another pin in his mental map linking Silken with the local meth trade. He reasoned that someone selling by his loading dock during business hours would be doing it with Silken's knowledge—perhaps with his product as well. "You buy your stash there all the time?"

  "Sure, man. Right to the source. You know what I mean?"

  Ray nodded, then looked past Hinter to the kitchen table, which was stacked with small appliance boxes. "What's with the appliances?"

  "I'm keeping them for a friend."

  Ray slipped on plastic gloves, then inspected several of the boxes. They were sealed from the factory and had Silken Dry Goods price tags. "These from the heist at Silken's place last week?"