by B R Snow
“Not a chance,” I said, casting a loving eye around the assortment.
“The soup course is Avgolemono.”
“I’m not familiar with that,” I said, frowning.
“It’s a chicken soup that finished with an egg-lemon slurry. It’s fantastic. And, of course, we have Greek salad. And Moussaka, Pastitsio, and the Gyros for the main meal.”
“Don’t forget dessert,” Doc said, shaking his head at the amount of food in the kitchen.
“Oh, yeah. We have Baklava. And Galaktoboureko. You ever had it?
“No, I haven’t,” I said, starting to feel very sorry for what I was doing to Josie.
“Well, it’s a lot easier to eat than it is to pronounce. It’s a Phyllo pie filled with custard and topped with an orange-lemon syrup. It’s a total…what’s that word you always use?”
“Kneebuckler.”
“That’s it,” Summerman said, pouring wine.
“You must have spent all day in the kitchen,” I said, thoroughly impressed.
“Why on earth would I do that?” Summerman said, laughing. “I bought all this.”
“Where did you find authentic Greek food?” I said.
“Greece,” Summerman said, shrugging.
“Where else do you think we found it?” Merlin said. “Switzerland?”
“I really don’t like you,” I said, glaring at him.
Merlin shrugged and took a sip of wine.
“I thought you were on the wagon,” I said, nodding at his wine glass.
“I am.”
“But you’re drinking.”
“Different wagon,” Merlin said.
Doc and Summerman laughed.
“One thing at a time, right, Merlin?” Doc said.
“Exactly.”
“When were you in Greece?” I said to Summerman.
“This morning.”
Before I could respond, we heard a soft knock on the door.
“Come on in, Josie,” Summerman called, heading out of the kitchen.
Moments later, they returned with Summerman staring at her with a concerned expression.
“Is there something wrong with you?” he said, taking a long look at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you been sick?”
“No,” Josie said, glancing around at all the food. “Maybe a little depressed.”
“Are you sure?” Summerman said with genuine concern.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she snapped. “You’re kinda freaking me out here, Summerman.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve lost so much weight.”
“Oh, that’s really funny. Ha-ha. Good one.”
“No, I’m serious. You look like you’ve lost…I don’t know, five, maybe ten pounds.”
“I do?” she said, glancing down at herself. “No way.”
“C’mon, follow me. I’ll prove it to you,” he said, leading her down the hallway into one of the bathrooms. “This scale is never wrong.”
“Uh-oh,” I said after they had left.
“What is it?” Doc said, getting up from the island to grab a tray of Dolmades.
“Well, to put it in terms you’ll understand, my cover is about to be blown.”
I spent the next few minutes telling them the story. When I finished, I shrugged and grabbed a Dolmades.
“That’s brilliant,” Doc said, laughing.
“Diabolical,” Merlin said, giving me a broad smile. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet. You had her clothes altered. I’m gonna steal that one.”
“All the credit goes to Mr. Clooney,” I said, reaching for another of the stuffed grape leaves.
Josie came out of the bathroom with an odd mixture of delight and anger plastered on her face.
“You’re behind this, aren’t you?” she said.
“Behind what?” I said, coyly, then couldn’t hold back my laughter. “Yeah. As payback for the Cessna.” I beamed at her. “You have to admit that it was pretty clever.”
“I’ll admit to nothing. You’ve been messing with my clothes, haven’t you?”
“Yup. And I also switched scales with you at the house.”
“I knew my face was getting thinner, but I chalked it up to depression.”
“Are you mad?” I said, grinning at her.
“Oh, yeah. Of course, I’m mad. But I’m sure I’ll get over it,” she said, then paused for effect. “Just as soon as I get even.”
“Okay, thanks for the warning,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “For now, how about we just enjoy our dinner? Take a look at this delicious feast. You must be starving.”
“I could eat.”
Chapter 25
Josie was sitting on the couch in my office with her feet up on the coffee table, Captain’s head in her lap, and a rapidly disappearing bag of bite-sized Snickers in her right hand. She was using the other hand and her teeth to open each one and toss them into her mouth like she was eating popcorn. The impressive and highly efficient display she was putting on was like watching an artist at work. Like Picasso. Or maybe, judging by the collection of wrappers strewn all over the floor, Jackson Pollock.
“Nice to see that you’ve fully recovered from your recent eating disorder,” I deadpanned.
“Shut it.”
My phone rang, and I checked the number, then answered and set the phone down on my desk.
“Hi, Tony. Thanks for calling me back.”
“No problem, Suzy. How are you doing?”
“I’m good. Everything’s good. And Sammy says hi. How are you hitting these days?”
“Not bad,” Tony said through the phone. “Still having a bit of trouble laying off low and away, but definitely a lot better. What’s up?”
“Hang on a sec,” I said, glancing up when I heard the soft knock.
The office door opened, and Chief Abrams entered. We gave me a quick wave, then sat down on the couch next to Josie. He frowned at the wrappers spread all over the floor.
“Welcome back,” he said, chuckling.
“Don’t start,” Josie said, tossing what was left of the bag of bite sized into a drawer.
“You have to admit it was a stroke of genius,” he said, gesturing for me to continue with my call.
“I’ll admit to nothing.”
“Okay, I’m back, Tony. I won’t keep you. I just have a couple of questions about your dad and sister,” I said into the phone.
“I’m happy to talk about my father. But I really don’t have much to say about Jolene.”
“Sure, I get that,” I said. “Okay, this is going to sound really invasive, but was your dad a heavy drug user?”
“No, I seriously doubt it…apart from the anti-psychotic stuff his doctors had him on. If he didn’t stay on them, he sort of…left the planet. But when it came to street drugs, he was adamant about us staying away from them. That’s where most of the problems he had with Jolene came from. Did you manage to track her down yet?”
“Yes, we have,” I said, softly.
“Is she still using?”
“Oh, yeah. And in very high doses. I’m sorry.”
“Meth?”
“At a minimum.”
“Meth was always her favorite. How bad off is she?”
I couldn’t help but pick up on the tone of his voice. Instead of coming across as worried, he sounded more like he was on a fact-finding mission: Interested, but definitely not overly concerned.
“She seems to be going downhill and picking up speed. No pun intended,” I said. “And her boyfriend is a cooker.”
“Then it looks like she hit a home run with him,” he said, casually. “An endless supply, huh?”
“Yes, for now anyway. Do you know her boyfriend? He’s kinda tall, really skinny, probably around thirty years old. His name is Carl.”
“No, I stopped trying to keep track of the men coming and going through her life years ago. That was a full-time job all by itself. But like I told you when you were out here, J
olene and I haven’t spoken in a long time. Have you or the police figured out who killed my father?”
“Not yet, but I think we might be getting close,” I said.
“Was Jolene somehow involved?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think the operative word here is somehow. I’m afraid that it’s a definite possibility.”
Tony fell silent, and I waited it out. Eventually, I continued.
“Are you okay, Tony?”
“I don’t really have much choice, do I? Oh, by the way, thanks for sending my dad’s ashes. They arrived the other day.”
It was my turn for silence. You’re welcome just didn’t seem to cut it. I decided to cycle back.
“Did your sister ever mention a guy by the name of Larry Gentile? He’s a landscaper, or at least he plays one in real life.”
“That’s funny,” Tony said, laughing. “Plays one in real life. I need to remember that one. Larry Gentile? No, I got nothing. About the only guy I do remember was her steady boyfriend back in high school.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, about to end the call.
“What a piece of work he was. Jolene was a freshman, and this guy was older, a dropout I think. He was the one who got her started using in the first place. Boy, did my dad hate him.”
“I’m sure your dad hated most of the guys she hung out with,” I said, checking my watch.
“Yeah, he did. But my dad saved most of his hatred for this guy,” Tony said, with a soft chuckle. “Man, Tommy Hoover. I haven’t thought about that guy in years.”
“Excuse me? What did you say his name was?”
“Tommy Hoover, like the vacuum cleaner. In fact, that was his nickname. The Vacuum.”
“The Vacuum?” I said, light bulbs popping all over the place. “Was the nickname a reference to all the drugs he did?”
“As a matter of fact, it was,” Tony said. “He was well-known for his ability to inhale rather large quantities of powdery substances.”
“Because of the size of his nose, right?” I said, staring at Chief Abrams.
“How the heck did you know that?”
“Lucky guess,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Do you know what happened to the guy?”
“I have no idea,” Tony said. “I always figured he ended up like most of Jolene’s other friends. Either dead or in jail. Hey, I need to get going. We’ve got an afternoon game, and I’m late for batting practice. Let me know if you find out anything more, okay?”
“Will do,” I said. “Thanks, Tony.”
I ended the call and frowned as I glanced over at Chief Abrams.
“Coincidence?” he said, raising an eyebrow at me.
“What? Jolene just happens to end up in the same location with a guy who fits the description of her old boyfriend? Based on what I saw going on between them this afternoon, I’d put the probability of it being a coincidence somewhere around zero.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Chief Abrams said. “Jolene and Tommy Nostril might be the masterminds behind all of this? That’s a scary thought.”
“Her brain is obviously fried,” I said. “But that wasn’t always the case. Tony mentioned how much potential she had when she was younger. And then she just wasted it. Can you check to see what sort of criminal record Tommy Hoover has?”
“I already sent a text,” Chief Abrams said. “It shouldn’t take long to get it.”
“It must be coming up on ten years they’ve been together, right?” I said.
“That sounds about right,” he said, checking his phone. “Nothing yet.”
“Jolene said that she’s been with Carl a couple of years. That must mean they like to keep swapping out cookers. You know, not sticking with the same one for too long.”
“Or finding a new one after the previous one gets caught,” Chief Abrams said.
“Now, there’s a thought,” I said, nodding. “Jolene said she met Carl in rehab.”
“What better place to find someone who cooks meth?” Chief Abrams said.
“You’re saying she checks herself in and out of rehab whenever they need to find a new cooker?” Josie said, gently tapping Captain’s head who was snoring loudly. “Hey, we’re trying to talk here.” Captain opened one eye, snorted, then fell back asleep.
“I don’t know if that’s what I’m talking about or not,” Chief Abrams said. “It does sound strange when you say it like that.”
“Yes, it does,” Josie said. “Plus, you’re forgetting one important question. If all the previous cookers she’s been with have been caught, why the heck isn’t Jolene spending the next several years wearing an orange jumpsuit?”
“I have no idea,” Chief Abrams said. “She certainly isn’t someone who covers her tracks very well.”
“Pun intended?” Josie said with a grin.
Chief Abrams chuckled and looked over at me.
“What do you think, Snoopmeister? Why isn’t Jolene behind bars?”
It didn’t happen that often, but, occasionally, my subconscious took control of my mouth.
“Because she’s being protected,” I blurted, then frowned at my outburst.
“Jolene? An informant?” Chief Abrams said. “Man, if that’s the case, the Feds must be desperate.”
“Both of them are snitches,” I said. “Her and Tommy Nostril. That has to be it.”
“How on earth could you possibly know that?” he said.
I looked at Chief Abrams as I flashed back to Summerman’s admonition about keeping my mouth shut. When I had agreed to do that, I thought that keeping his secret would be simple. Now that I was seeing how various situations were playing out, as well as the preponderance of potential problems woven into it, I was beginning to have my doubts. I broke eye contact and shrugged.
“Lucky guess?”
“Nice try,” he said, maintaining his intense stare.
I was rescued when his phone buzzed. He glanced down at it, then began scrolling through the message. Several moments later, he looked up and gave me another odd stare.
“Tommy Hoover has a long list of priors,” he said, glancing back down at the message. “Several for possession, plus the usual suspects…several B&Es, he stole half a dozen cars, knocked over some gas stations and liquor stores. All before the age of twenty-three.”
“And since then?” I said.
“Nothing. Not a thing since 2006.”
“Sounds like something you’d expect to see on an informant’s file,” I said.
“Yes, it does,” Chief Abrams said. “You got something you want to tell me, Suzy?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, glancing out the window. “Could you check Jolene’s record?”
“Way ahead of you. I pulled it the other day. Two charges of possession. The first time she got off with a warning. She got probation for the second. Six months. And there was another charge for solicitation. She paid a fine and was released. There’s been nothing since then. Take a guess what year it was the last time she got arrested.”
“I’m going to go with 2006 for a thousand, Alex,” I said.
“Nothing gets past you,” he said, laughing.
“How could they be informants?” Josie said. “From what you’ve told me about them, it sounds like they’re lucky if they’re able to find their shoes in the morning.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that you’ve never spent much time around informants,” the Chief said. “Not a lot of Harvard grads living in that swamp.”
“If they’ve been informants for ten years, they might have convinced themselves they’re untouchable,” I said.
“That would be my guess. At some point, they probably got cocky and decided to bend the rules and branch out a little,” Chief Abrams said. “And they got away with it and just kept going.”
“And the Feds just let them cook and smuggle crystal meth?” Josie said.
“It would probably depend on what they’re working on,” Chief Abrams said. “If it’s a big eno
ugh case, the Feds might look the other way.”
“Or maybe the Feds have forgotten about them and don’t have a clue what they’re up to,” I said.
“It’s possible, but I have my doubts,” Chief Abrams said. “The Feds are a lot of things, but forgetful isn’t one of them.”
“They could be getting paid for snitching on other druggies?” Josie said.
“Sure,” the Chief said, shrugging. “If they’re heavily involved, they could even be on a retainer.”
“Our tax dollars at work,” Josie said, shaking her head. “The government spends our money protecting people like that?”
“Try not to think about it,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Because it’ll just give you a headache.”
Chapter 26
That afternoon was another reminder why Josie and I do what we do. Any day when we are able to witness one of our dogs being adopted into a loving family is enough to put a lump in our throats, watching two on the same day always got us reaching for a box of tissues. The first adoption dealt with the lab we’d found starving to death on Jolene and Carl’s front porch. Jenny, one of our summer hires, had continued to bond with the dog, and the two of them had become inseparable during the dog’s recovery period. She was sitting on the floor of the dog’s condo next to Josie who was doing one final check of the Lab’s vital signs. Josie listened to the dog’s breathing through a stethoscope, then lovingly stroked the dog’s head, and stood up.
“I now pronounce you woman and best friend,” she said, removing the stethoscope from her ears. “She needs to put a few more pounds on, but she’s perfect. Make sure she gets her daily exercise, but don’t overdo it the first week.”
“Thanks, Josie. You too, Suzy,” Jenny said, hugging the dog.
“You did most of the work,” Josie said. “Now, why don’t you take the rest of the day off and get her settled into her new home?”
“Are you sure?”
“Go,” I said, laughing. “And feel free to bring her with you when you come to work.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, in case you haven’t noticed,” Josie said. “We have a pretty loose policy when it comes to dogs in the office.”