“Say, Rog…”
Colby’s stomach tightened. “What?”
“They musta done a search warrant on my place. They found the copy of that file I made.”
Great, thought Colby. How am I gonna explain that?
“But I stoned up on ’em,” Dix said, talking fast. “Acted like I never seen it before.”
“F. Lee Bailey would be proud.”
“Shit, to think that I might need some punk like him defending me is enough to make me consider confessing.”
Colby took a deep breath. “Like I said, don’t talk to them again until I get you a mouthpiece.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. But, remember you asking me about anything out of the ordinary last night?”
Colby looked toward the fax machine and saw Leslie standing there holding several sheets, with another one slowly emanating from the slot. He glanced at the desk and saw the picture on the computer monitor was almost completely downloaded. It was too large for the screen and showed only a man’s jacketed arm.
“What’d you remember?” Colby asked Dix. “Well, when I was walking up to the place, I seen a car with a couple of Feds sitting in it. I mean, they were about as obvious as a couple of cockroaches sunning themselves in the bathtub.”
Colby chuckled. Leslie looked at him and smiled, holding up the collected sheets. He nodded.
“But when I was going in,” Dix continued, “I seen some pretty boy in a suit. From a distance, I figured for a copper walking in ahead of me. At least I assumed he mighta been a cop, from the way he moved and looked.”
“Okay.” Colby got back to the desk, grabbed the mouse, and moved it to reduce the size of the displayed picture.
“But the guy had real long hair,” Dix said. “And a goatee. So I figured, what kind of copper is that? I mean, the fucker’s hair was so long he had it pulled back into a ponytail, for Christ’s sake.”
“A ponytail?”
Colby watched as a smaller version of the picture popped up. The texture was a bit grainy showing the upper portion of a man visible through an open car window, but it was still unmistakable: Edward Knox, of New Genesis, long hair, goatee, and ponytail.
Chapter 20
Matthew stared at the Taser in the clerk’s hand. It hardly looked formidable, the way a gun did, but he couldn’t risk trying to get a real piece. Not with a three-day waiting period and background check. Plus, he had no Firearm Owner’s Identification Card, and that left him high and dry in Illinois, unless he bought one on the street. But that meant exposing himself to more risks. A Taser was something else. That only required him to be eighteen. It was smaller than he’d imagined, and shaped almost like a flashlight.
“It’s laser-sighted?” he asked. He’d left the wig in the car, figuring his buzz-cut would be more welcome and less noticeable in the gun shop.
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. His removed the square cartridge on the end. “With the Taser in this mode, you can use it as a stun-gun. Just hold it against your adversary, and pull the trigger.” He pressed the button, causing an arc of crackling electricity between the two nodes. “And this,” he held up a block-like cartridge, “can stop a Brahma bull up to fifteen feet.” The clerk snapped the cartridge back into place. “And that ain’t no BS, neither.”
Matthew remembered the feeling of getting hit by those prongs and nodded. “Okay, I’ll take it. Batteries, too.”
“Great. You won’t regret it. Anything else you’re looking for?”
“Handcuffs.” Matthew peered through the top of the glass display. “And let me see those?”
“The leg-irons?” The clerk opened the back of the case, reached in, set two boxes on the counter top, and removed the lids. “These titanium cuffs are real light. Feel ’em.”
Matthew picked them up. “But are they just as strong?”
“Sure are. Plus, both open with a standard handcuff key.”
Matthew held the lightweight shackles a moment longer, liking the way the light danced over the hard, polished surface. “Okay, I’ll take them,” he said. “The leg-irons, too?”
“Yes,” Matthew said, then thought about recent events and being prepared. “In fact, give me three of each. And a second cartridge for the Taser.”
The clerk’s eyebrows arched upward.
Matthew took out his billfold, which was thick with currency. “Can you toss in some of those plastic restraint ties, too?”
“Wow, that’s a pretty big order. You going to work in a jail somewhere, or something?”
“I’m going on a special operation. How was it they used to say it?” Matthew grinned, raising his index finger as if he remembered. “If I tell you about it, I’ll have to kill you.”
The clerk grinned back, showing a set of crooked teeth as he eagerly slipped the stuff into a bag.
“You know,” he said. “I ain’t heard that one in a while Matthew smiled again.
You don’t know the half of it, Matthew thought, keeping the smile on his face. You sad sack of shit.
Leslie ordered them room service and sat at the small coffee table across from Colby. He was furiously scribbling notes on several sheets of hotel stationery. She watched him working the pen over the paper, drawing diagrams, and arrows, circling some items and scratching out others.
“So are you figuring how this whole thing fits together or doing a calculus assignment?”
“Actually, that’s a pretty good analogy. I always used to tell Dix that solving a complex case was a lot like working through an algebraic equation.”
“It looks a lot more complex than algebra.”
“It is, but in a lot of ways, it’s plain and simple logic. You just put down the facts, and see how they interrelate.” He tapped the pen on the first box at the top of the page. “Our buddy Knox was in Toronto at the same time as your victim, Norton. But he lied to us about it. Gave us a song and a dance about some guy named…” his pen trailed across the paper but she said it before he could.
“Vernon Krems.”
“Right,” he said. “And more importantly, Knox’s boss went along with it when we were at that New Genesis place.”
She nodded.
“Knox and the old guy, Jetters, are covering something up,” Colby said, tapping the paper again. “You can bet it had to do with Norton’s murder up by you.” He sat back. “Here’s where it gets interesting. Apparently, Norton knew Laird. Was his doctor while he was in prison. And Dix says he saw a dude with a ponytail,” he reached over and grabbed the grainy copy of Knox’s border crossing photo, “which means that our buddy Knox most likely was at the scene of Laird’s murder, too.”
“It’s all tied together, isn’t it?”
He nodded again, then frowned. “But how? It’s a no-brainer to figure that Knox killed Norton and Laird. Probably Fontaine, too, if these preliminary reports are right. Two guys shot with a nine millimeter within hours of each other, who happen to be attorney and client. Then Dix showed up at the wrong time and Knox framed him.”
“Even Pearson can’t deny all this stuff. Shouldn’t we go to him?”
Colby’s frown deepened. “We’ll need something more concrete. Once an asshole has his mind made up, you need the Pope to call and tell him he’s full of shit. And even then he wouldn’t believe it.”
She giggled. “You do have a way with words.”
“Plus, we still don’t know how Norton’s, Laird’s, and Fontaine’s murders are all tied to the copycats.” He compressed his lips. “Still, Laird must have been involved in those. DNA doesn’t lie, and they found his at one of the crime scenes.”
“Do you think Knox could have been in on them with Laird?”
“That makes the most sense, but until we know all the whys of it, we’re still shooting in the dark. That’s what we’ll have to find out tonight, if we can.”
“I assume that means we’re going someplace after dinner?” she asked, straightening up.
He nodded.
“All right then
.” She unbuttoned her blouse and skirt, then laid them on the bed. “I’m going to freshen up a bit.”
Standing there in her bra and panties, she was amused as she watched his eyes sweep over her.
The knock on the door made him glance up warily, until the muffled voice on the other side said, “Room service.”
Colby started to get up, but Leslie put a hand on his shoulder and told him she’d get it. On the way, she grabbed one of the hotel robes hanging on the bathroom door. As she slipped into it, she heard Colby’s cell phone ring for about the umpteenth time that afternoon.
“You going to answer it this time?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s probably just my asshole boss calling me up to gloat,” he said.
She smiled at his colorful language until she opened the door, and then she saw Pearson standing there with Special Agent O’Keefe, Lieutenant Kropper, and Deputy Superintendent Mannion in his dark blue uniform blouse.
Oh, Christ, Colby thought. Looks like the gang’s all here now.
Chapter 21
Matthew watched the Blem eating his Happy Meals in the rear of the van, burping and farting, happy as a pig in a poke. Matthew drank some more of his own soft drink, and picked up the group of envelopes he’d gotten at the mailbox place. God, he would have loved to have strangled that red-haired bitch. He longed to feel the rush again.
But on to the business at hand. It was clear that it was indeed time to enter the final phase of the plan. With Knox on his trail, he had to move fast. Set things in motion, make the call to the old man, and collect his hush-money. He set the drink on the console and began shuffling through the material.
Blacks would probably be easier, he thought as he shuffled through the photos and applications from his bogus mailbox address. But Matthew realized he’d also stand out a lot more in a black neighborhood, and it wouldn’t do for a white guy to get stopped with two little nigglets in his rented van. He wondered how Morgan regarded blacks. He would have called them niggers. Morgan had spent enough time incarcerated that he’d probably been victimized by them, especially being in a wheelchair.
I’ll have to make amends for that, he thought. Maybe a trip down to Jamaica or Haiti and kill a few to even the score. But those future fun and games would have to wait.
He read through more of the pictures and applications he’d received. It was amazing how much personal information people were willing to give out in search of a quick buck or a shot at their fifteen minutes of fame. The ad he’d placed on the Internet, stating he was an independent filmmaker looking for pre-adolescent twins to be in a commercial, had netted him a ton of resumes. Most of them from greedy parents seeking a chance at big bucks.
He came to a photograph of two very pretty little white girls, dressed identically, and both with nice blond hair. They could have almost passed for the Swanstrom twins. He knew in an instant he had to have them. Scanning the accompanying resume, he felt a sudden, sexual arousal. He looked over the accompanying resume: single parent home, and they lived in a trailer park. He found the contact phone number and grabbed his newly purchased burner phone. The woman answered on the first ring.
Matthew could hear the blare of a late afternoon talk show in the background. Trailer park trash.
“Ms. Turner? This is Owen Rand, calling for New Star Associates. It’s in regards to your response to our ad?”
“Oh, yes.”
He could detect the interest in her voice. She was already hooked. “Do you still live at the same address?” Matthew read it off the resume.
“Yes, we do.”
“Good. Could you have the girls ready for a quick audition in say, an hour?” He worked at keeping his voice professional sounding and non-threatening. “I’d like to stop by and take some pictures. It won’t take very long.”
“Yeah, sure, we can do that,” the woman said. He heard her cover the mouthpiece on her end and say, “Go get your sister now.”
“Fine. Coincidentally we’re setting up now in a strip mall not too far from you. I’ll take a taxi over to your house.” His voice was Mr. Happy with the golden prize. This was going to be almost too easy.
“I can see why you haven’t been answering our calls” Mannion said, stepping forward as he eyed the red-faced Leslie in the robe. His face had an amused smirk, and Colby knew that they were in deep shit. That they’d tracked him here, to Leslie’s hotel, shocked him at first, but hell, he should’ve figured on it. He wasn’t at home, and they’d just been in a north side District Station. Even though he hadn’t been answering his cell, it was on and still sending a ping to the closest towers. It would have been a simple matter of triangulation and a few phone calls. Leslie’s downtown hotel was no doubt the first place that popped up. He should have seen this coming.
“Calls?” He asked. “I must have a low battery.” Mannion frowned.
Kropper’s lower lip jutted out and he shot a mean glance at Leslie, then at Colby. “You brought an unauthorized person into a District Station. Let her use departmental equipment. You’re gonna be brought up on charges if I have anything to say about it. Plus, you been working this case specifically when we told you not to.”
Colby shrugged. There were so many of them it was diffusing their efforts. Best to let them bluster and see where they were going.
“I was showing an officer from another country our facilities,” he said. “And her superiors e-mailed some documents to her regarding an ongoing case. We downloaded them.”
The bags under Kropper’s eyes danced with fury. He looked about to respond when Pearson broke in.
“And how do you explain that little visit to the MCC this morning that I supposedly authorized?” He glanced at Leslie and said, “I had a hard time convincing them that Marion can also be a man’s name.”
Colby saw Leslie blush. Why had he gotten her involved in all this?
“Me seeing Dix is immaterial,” Colby shot back. “You’re building a case against the wrong man.”
“Listen, asshole,” Kropper poked a finger into Colby’s chest. “I told you I ain’t putting up with no more of your shit.”
Colby stared back at him, then said, “Deputy Superintendent, I believe you just witnessed a battery to a police officer.” Mannion frowned.
“You ain’t no police officer,” Kropper said, but he drew his finger back.
“Cool your jets, both of you,” Mannion said. Then, to Colby, “You’re in shit up to your knees. You know that, right?”
“Look, boss,” He held up his index finger and thumb, with about a millimeter separating the two. “I’m this close to being able to prove that Dix didn’t kill Laird. I just need a little more time, is all.”
“May I remind you,” Pearson said, “that we’re handling that case.”
Colby stared at him “Yeah, and you’ve got the wrong guy.”
Pearson shook his head. “It’s a moot question, since you’re no longer involved. And you may as well be told that the case against your friend, Dix, is getting stronger all the time. The reason we’re here is to ask you to go back downtown with us.”
“For what?”
Pearson sighed heavily. It was almost theatrical. “To determine if you were involved.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid we’re serious as a frigging heart attack.” The Fed smirked.
Colby wondered how long he’d been waiting to use his sanitized version of that old cliché in a conversation. But the asshole still wasn’t man enough to go all the way with something— “Frigging?”
“We’d like you to take a polygraph examination,” Pearson said.
“For what?”
Pearson’s face was placid. Like a man who thought he was holding the winning hand, and didn’t care who knew it. “We served a search warrant on Dix’s residence today. Any guesses as to what we found?”
It had to be the copy of the file Dix mentioned. Colby shook his head.
“A photocopy of the copycat case file
.” Pearson said it like he was announcing checkmate.
“Yeah, well let me know if you find my fingerprints on it,” Colby said. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen it.”
“Which means what?” Kropper asked. “That you just handed over your file for Dix to copy?”
Colby was getting tired of this intrusion. Another knock sounded at the door, once again announcing “Room service.”
“I think that’s our food,” Colby said to Leslie. “Now, if you gentlemen, and lady, will excuse us, Ms. Labyorteaux and I were just about to have dinner.”
He was taking a chance, but the fact that they’d only asked him to accompany them meant that they didn’t have anything solid. He hoped he had just enough time to get them out of there, then run Knox to ground. It was the only chance he, and Dix, had left. The trio of men glanced at each other.
“He’s your employee,” Pearson said to Mannion. “But I can tell you that the Bureau wouldn’t tolerate insubordination of this magnitude.” Mannion’s face grew redder.
Special Agent O’Keefe looked on the verge of finally opening her mouth, when Mannion’s gruff voice said, “Let’s go.” He turned to Colby, “Plan on reporting to Lt. Kropper’s office at nine sharp tomorrow morning. And bring your union lawyer.”
One by one, the three men moved toward the door, Mannion opening it first and stepping around the room service. Kropper slipped out behind him, followed by Pearson. O’Keefe paused and stepped back into the room. She leaned close to Colby, handing him a card, and spoke in a quick whisper.
“I’m not so sure they’re on the right track, either,” she said. “If you get anything solid, and need to talk, my cell’s on the back.”
What was she, the federal “good” cop? Colby nodded and took the card. The food smelled nice, but he knew he wasn’t going to have time to enjoy it.
Knox was getting into his BMW just as his cell phone sounded. Jetters’ nervous voice greeted him.
“Matthew called me. He says he’s planning something big. Something that’s going to expose everything.”
Blood Trails Page 24