Sid thought about the errand that had brought Jaz here Saturday morning, leading to her fateful drive downtown that took her past the neighborhood where Earline Ivey was murdered. He knew from her comments Saturday night that the confrontation with Bart Masterson had caused her a great deal of agony. And his work Sunday morning to find a possibe witness had made little impression on the detective. Sid put it out of his mind to concentrate on the more pressing problem Djuan Burden faced.
He pulled into the short term parking garage, wound around until he found a vacant spot, and crossed to the moving walkway that led to the ground transportation level. His mind filled with questions, he dodged passengers heading out to the pickup area and looked for the auto rental counter with the three stars on its logo. When he found it, he stepped up behind a customer who had obviously flown in from somewhere to the north, his fur-collared jacket lying on the roller bag at his side. When the man turned away with his vehicle contract in hand, Sid approached the counter.
“I’m Sid Chance,” he said to the pert redhead dressed in blue. He held out his PI card. “I’m a private investigator looking for a man who committed a serious crime in Nashville a few days ago. I’d appreciate it if you would check your records for the driver of a black twenty-eleven Ford Fusion. He turned his car in late last Monday afternoon. He probably rented it a day or two before.”
She read the card slowly, frowning, then handed it back. “I’m not allowed to give out information on customers except to the police.”
“I’m working with the police.” It was close to the truth. The FBI had given him information on the car.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Let me check with my manager.”
She got on the phone, turned her back, and talked a few moments. She looked back at him and shook her head. “I’m only allowed to give out that kind of information to the police.”
Sid took out his phone and called Bart. He explained where he was and what he had asked for.
“Where did you get the information about the car?” Bart asked.
“FBI Agent Baron Eggers took a shot from the bank surveillance tape and enhanced it until the tag was readable.”
“Did you give the rental agent the license number?”
“No. Eggers said it was a stolen plate, but the bumper showed a TriStar Car Rental logo.”
“In that case, your hit man wasn’t too professional.”
“He probably didn’t want to deface the car and have TriStar come after him.” Bart was right, of course. The guy had let down his guard.
“And you want me to do what?”
Sid repeated what he had asked the redheaded agent.
“When are you gonna put me on the payroll, buddy?”
Sid chuckled. “I’ll find a portable time clock you can punch.”
“Let me talk to the lady,” he said.
Sid handed her the phone. “This is Metro Homicide Detective Bart Masterson.”
She took the phone and listened a few moments, then asked, “How do I know you’re really a Metro detective?”
She listened again, a little longer this time, wrote something down, and handed the phone back to Sid.
“What’s the verdict,” he asked Bart.
“I told her to call the precinct to verify my identity. I have to go, buddy. Good luck.”
Sid noticed the agent looking over his shoulder as she made the call. He turned and saw a couple with frosty hair standing behind him, large bags resting at their side. A nearby baggage kiosk rumbled noisily, bringing more passengers and likely more car rental customers.
“This will take some digging,” the agent said, returning to the counter. “I’ll have to look it up between customers. Give me a number where I can reach you.”
He handed her a business card. “Use the cell number. I’ll be in a restaurant upstairs.” He didn’t want to give her an excuse to delay things.
Sid had become friends with the airport police chief during a recent case involving insurance fraud. Snagging a passing airport cop, he arranged to meet the chief in the ticketing area. He explained his situation and got escorted past security into the concourse area, where he wandered into a restaurant that specialized in Italian food. He ordered a spinach and cheese Stromboli with a side salad and carried his food to a back table. People-watching had always fascinated him, even when he wasn’t looking for somebody in particular. As he observed the flow of passengers in and out of the restaurant, he tried to guess who they were and what their mission might be. At one point he saw a young man saunter in, middle to late twenties, casually dressed in denims and a nondescript tee shirt, a carryon bag clutched in his left hand. He wore an Atlanta Braves baseball cap pulled down on his forehead. Sid watched his eyes make a careful sweep of the area before he ventured up to the counter.
This guy mirrored the description Sid had imagined for the man he now felt certain had murdered the Prime Medical Equipment owner. He looked about the right age and physical condition for the men he had been associated with in Army Special Forces forty years ago in Vietnam. A few of them, he recalled, could easily have slipped across the line into forbidden territory. They had the skills and the guts to be hired assassins, and the monetary rewards could have been hard to pass up. The cap could be a decoy. He probably came from the Southwest or Northeast.
Sid ate slowly. When he’d finished his meal, he went back for a cup of black coffee and returned to his vigil. He thought of calling Jaz to find out how things were going with Elena Ortiz, but he decided to wait in case the rental car agent should call. After nearly an hour, he decided to hell with it and punched in Jaz’s number.
“Any luck with Elena?” he asked.
She told him how the interview had gone.
Sid glanced around the room as he talked. The man in the Braves ball cap had long since departed. The crowd stayed in a constant state of flux. “So she as much as admitted the murder involved drugs, maybe a cartel?”
“That’s my take on it,” Jaz said. “She broke down and I couldn’t see pushing her any further. She’s been in her room ever since. She wouldn’t come down to lunch.”
“What did you work out in your session with the lawyer?”
“He thinks we should lay low and see what happens. When I told him about Bart questioning me on the murder, he said he used to be a criminal lawyer, call him if I needed any help.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Sid said. “Matter of fact, I got a little help from Bart this morning.”
He told her what Agent Eggers had found from the enhanced license plate photo and how Bart had helped with the rental agent, that he was waiting in an airport restaurant for her to finish her search.
“We have to get this cleared up soon, Sid,” Jaz said when he mentioned his visit to Rachel Ransom. “That woman has suffered enough.”
“Yes, and this situation is getting too complicated for my comfort. We’re going to have to turn Ortiz over to the FBI.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, I owe it to Agent Eggers. Also he’s getting frustrated at not finding her. If he should trace her to your house, you could be charged with harboring a fugitive.”
“That I don’t need,” she said. “Let me try to talk to her again.”
Chapter 22
Sid decided to wait another five minutes, then return to the car rental counter if he hadn’t heard from the agent. He was already out in the terminal corridor when his phone rang.
“Mr. Chance, this is TriStar Car Rental,” she said. “I think I have what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks. I’m on my way down.”
He headed for the escalator and the long descent to the ground transportation level. Observing the man in front of him whose toupee had gone askew made the trip more interesting. The agent at the car rental counter gave him a thin smile.
“It’s been a busy time, but the search wasn’t as difficult as I was afraid it might be.” She removed a pad from the desk and laid it on
the counter. “We only have one black twenty-eleven Fusion. It’s a popular car, though.”
“Was it turned in last Monday afternoon?”
She looked at the pad. “Four-oh-five p.m.”
He recalled the 15:24:34 time stamp on the surveillance photo. Forty-one minutes would be time enough for the suspect to change license tags, ditch the gun, and remove his disguise, then make it to the airport and turn in the car.
Sid took out his pen and pocket-sized notebook. “What’s his name and address?”
“Your detective was very persuasive,” she said with a grin. “I have it all here for you.”
She ripped a sheet off the pad and handed it to him. It contained all the information from the rental application: name, address, driver’s license number, even the credit card number. He knew he’d have to put everything they had accumulated in a report and get it to Vandenberg and Hersholt.
“You’ve been most accommodating,” he said, saluting her as he turned toward the garage.
On the way to his car, he sorted through the information that was piling up on his mental hard drive. He had lots of facts, but each one seemed to lead to a question mark. By the time he sat behind the wheel, he had decided it was time to get straight with Agent Eggers and see if that might be productive.
“This is Sid Chance,” he said when Eggers answered. “I really appreciate what you did with that photo. It provided us with a real breakthrough.”
“How did that happen?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute, but first I have something for you.”
“I hope it’s a good one.”
“How about Elena Ortiz?”
“You found her?”
“Jaz is currently grilling her. She’s already come up with a pretty good indication that the murder was drug related. Probably a Mexican gang.”
“I’ll need to get that to the DEA. Where is she?”
“I’m about to go meet with Jaz. When I get there, I’ll call and let you know where to pick up your prize.”
“Okay,” Eggers said. “I’ll give you a little tidbit that just came in from Albuquerque. They say Señor Valdez, he doesn’t speak the English too good. Still works as a bus boy at Casa Rosa Restaurant. He had no idea someone was using his Social Security number. What did you come up with from that license plate photo?”
Sid told him what he had learned at the airport.
“That sounds promising. Apparently the guy’s getting a little careless.”
“Right. And if he was hired by a Mexican gang, it should give us some leverage with Ortiz.”
“I definitely need to look into this. Give me the information you got from TriStar Car Rental. I agree it was probably all fake, but I’ll check it out. We’ll interview the clerk who dealt with him and try to get a good description. Then maybe we can track him back to his point of origin.”
Most of the bedrooms were on the second floor. Jaz found Elena sitting by the window, looking down at a succession of robins, red-winged blackbirds, and cardinals pecking away at a triple-decker bird feeder atop a post in back of the house. Her mother would never have admitted to such a plebeian pastime as bird watching, but Jaz remembered many times seeing Gwendolyn LeMieux sitting beside the window just like Elena.
“Wouldn’t you like to come down and eat something?” Jaz asked, leaning against the bed post near where the dyed blonde sat.
Elena looked up, her face expressionless. “In a little while, maybe.”
“I wish you’d tell me how you got involved in all of this. Maybe I could help you find a way out. I’m almost certain the FBI would drop any charges against you if you cooperated and helped sort this all out.”
“I don’t think it will be that easy.”
“It might not be easy, but it’s sure a lot preferable to the alternative. Before I joined my father’s company and prepared myself to take over, I did a lot of things I’d have been better off skipping. I enlisted in the Air Force and served in the Security Police. It’s like being an Army MP. After that I spent a few years as a professional boxer, living from hand to mouth on meager earnings. Then I joined the Metro Nashville police force and worked as a patrolwoman. I know the criminal justice system, Elena, and I know you don’t want to get tangled up in it.”
“Whatever happens, it’s too late to help Omar.”
“True, but you’re still young. You have a lot of life to live.”
The phone on the bedside table rang, followed shortly by a tone that indicated the call was for her. She picked up the phone. “This is Jasmine.”
Sid’s voice mirrored his upbeat mood. “The FBI is onto this big time now,” he said. He briefed her on the information he’d learned at the airport and what FBI Agent Eggers had told him about the real Omar Valdez.
“I’m talking to Elena now,” Jaz said.
“I’m going to head that way. It won’t take long. I promised to call Eggers and let him know where he can pick up Ortiz. Maybe we can get a little more out of her with this new information before he gets there.”
She put the phone down and turned to Elena. “Sid is on his way over here. He has some interesting information to talk to you about.”
After Elena finally agreed to let Marie fix her a late lunch, Jaz followed her downstairs and across to the kitchen. Marie took over, seated the tawny-skinned fake blonde at the table and began questioning her on what she would like to eat. Jaz returned to her office, where she called her friend Dr. Reagan Abrams at the Medical Examiner’s office.
“Hi, Reagan, it’s Jaz. Have you had a chance to check on those fingerprints of Omar Valdez?”
“No, and it’s really odd. I was tied up all morning with an autopsy and didn’t get to look into it until this afternoon. When I did, I found everything involved with the case had been sequestered.”
“Why on earth—?”
“Sealed by order of the District Attorney’s office.”
“I wonder what brought that on?”
“I heard it was requested by the police. Seems a deputy chief was the one who called in the instructions.”
Deputy Chief Kozlov, no doubt. Was this something requested by Detectives Grimm and Kozlov? What were they trying to hide? She was satisfied that they would get their comeuppance when the anonymous hit man was brought to light, but this really galled her.
“Did you tell your boss there was a suggestion that Valdez might not be his real identity?”
“She said it was out of her hands. I’d have to tell the police about it.”
“I suspect they don’t want to know,” Jaz said. “The FBI is onto it, though.”
“I think they’ve already been by here, Jaz. You’re really into this private detective business, aren’t you? How do you find the time for it with all your Welcome Home Stores involvement?”
“My dad was a very astute businessman. He set the company up with some great people in the key spots. He had phased out of most of the hands-on operation before he died. I keep a close watch on things, but the guys and gals in charge really know what they’re doing.”
“I’m glad everything worked out so well for you. We were all worried when you left school.”
“After I calmed down, I hated that I had let you guys down without an experienced point guard.”
“We understood.”
“Thanks. I appreciated everybody’s concern, but you do what you have to do.”
“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be any more help on this Omar Valdez situation.”
“You were a big help, Reagan. Thanks. Incidentally, were you involved in the Earline Ivey autopsy?”
“Yes, that’s the one I spent this morning on. I don’t like the way the news people keep bringing up your name in the story. It doesn’t fit you. What that woman claimed you did was disgusting.”
“I know. Now I won’t get my chance to face her and see who was lying.”
“What was strange about the case is Ivey’s wound was almost exactly like the one on Valdez, except th
e bullet entered her head from the rear instead of the front.”
“Was it a twenty-two round?”
“Yes. It was in a little better shape. They can probably get a match with this one.”
“Good. That should help the detectives. Let me know if you hear anything else over there, Reagan.”
“I will. You take care.”
Sid had nearly reached Jaz’s place when his phone rang. He saw Bart’s number on the ID. He flipped open the cover and said, “Got anything new for me?”
“Where are you?”
“Nearly at Jaz’s house.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“You need to talk to her. I don’t think it would be a good thing for me to do it.”
Sid pulled off the street into the edge of Jaz’s driveway and stopped. “Talk about what?”
“I’ve been taken off the Earline Ivey case.”
“You’ve what?”
“I just got the word this afternoon.”
“Why?”
“The lieutenant said there was new evidence regarding Miss LeMieux and they decided I was too close to her.”
“How’d they figure that?”
“The Miss Demeanor and Five Felons Club is no secret.”
“I know, but that’s no—”
“I told the lieutenant that was bullshit. I’ve been doing this for over twenty years now and nobody’s accused me of being biased.”
“So what’s their excuse?”
“The word came from the CJC.”
The Criminal Justice Center, Police headquarters. “I wonder if it was the deputy chief.”
“Kozlov. He’s the likely suspect. But I don’t know why.”
“What’s this new evidence involving Jaz?” Sid asked.
“I don’t know. Tommy Fagan, the detective they gave the case to, said he was sworn to secrecy. This whole business stinks. Tell Jaz to expect the worst.”
The Good, The Bad and The Murderous (Sid Chance Myseries Book 2) Page 12