Death Roe (22 page)

“We went to the Fisheries division. Choate was the contract coordinator. In his office we found records of Florida trips and so forth. We took all this to Teeny, who told us to relax, but I wouldn't. I went back to Elk Rapids, and all the records were gone and Piscova had suddenly been granted a ten-year contract. There was a big party at the plant and Teeny was there, and Choate and the assistant governor and all sorts of state legislators. After that Zins threw up his hands, decided it was as futile as pushing a rope, and that was that. He didn't terminate the investigation; he just let it go dormant.”

“And you?” Service asked.

“Not much I could to, but I kept snooping. I found that Fagan had two partners: a fish guy named Amonte out of Milwaukee and another one named Jingles Steinmetz.”

Miars said Steinmetz's name like Service should be familiar with it, but Service only shrugged.

“Steinmetz is out of Detroit, king of the fish business, mobbed up, brains, and muscle. As I looked at the transactions I found evidence that Piscova was underreporting and underpaying. Fagan would make five sales in a day, but report only two. He was shorting the state and his partners, but I couldn't prove it without more resources.”

“Did you talk to his partners?”

“Couldn't. Steinmetz would have him whacked and the state would have gotten nothing.”

“So you backed off.”

“Then you came along with your egg thing and I could see the case was getting legs again”

“But you didn't jump back in with your angles.”

“Been there, done that. No point to hopeless causes. Thought it better to see what you turned up and then jump in if there was room.”

“Is this what we signed on for?” Service asked, taking a bite of sandwich, holding his napkin at his chin to keep from dribbling. “Only going after sure things?”

“The job and environment are so different now, it's sometimes hard to remember
what
we signed on for.”

Miars was clearly having second thoughts and Service couldn't blame him. “Eventually Fish and Wildlife will raid Crimea. You want in?”

“No.”

“You want me to keep you tuned in to what we're doing?”

“From time to time. How's Denninger doing?”

“Good officer.” Service related her visit to the realtor in Traverse City.

“Where did the money for the clothes come from?” Miars asked, snapping to attention in his seat.

“My wallet.”

“Jesus, I couldn't afford anything like that. You'll never get it back from the state, or the feds.”

“I know,” Service said.

Service was headed south to Saranac by 8:30 p.m. Beaker Salant called him when he was passing St. Louis. “Too cool, dude. I talked to Teeny, and he is indeed staying at Fagan's place in Key West, and he went, like, total crunk. I asked him if he'd stayed there before and he actually said, ‘No comment.' Can you believe
that?
I also asked him about the chair endowment and he said he had no knowledge of Fagan paying the way, but if it was true, he was grateful.”

“You buy it?”

“Not a chance. I talked to the vice president of development at the college and he confirms that Fagan's the primary contributor, though there are others as well. That's all he had to say, and when I gave him chapter and verse on Teeny's nonperformance here, all he would say is that Teeny had a wide range of experience that will be invaluable to their students. I think he wanted me to split. I asked him to confirm the contributors to the Teeny chair by snail mail, and he said he would, but I'm not going to hold my breath.”

“Thanks, Beaker.”

“You have any more brainstorms, call.”

“That door swings both ways,” Service said, not at all sure that it did. There was no guidebook for leaking information to the media.

It was just past midnight and Leukonovich's staff car was parked out front. No sign of Denninger's truck, but it was probably in the barn. Service found the IRS agent reading newspaper clippings. Denninger was sitting at the table, looking morose.

“Your handiwork?” Leukonovich asked, holding up the clippings.

“What are they?”

“The sort of interference in an investigation that can manifest severe repercussions,” she said.

Service caught Denninger's eye. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“That's tomorrow,” Denninger said. “Your day go okay?”

“I had dinner with Miars. He's busy with another investigation.”

“Is he looking for cover?”

“Not sure yet. Could be, I guess.”

Leukonovich put the clippings in a briefcase, got up, and went upstairs.

Denninger came over to Service. “That woman totally creeps me out.”

“She's a little different, but she's supposed to be good at what she does. How did the meeting go with Choate?”

“He got in my face initially, but after a minute or so he sat back in his chair and stared.”

“You think he got the message?”

“His hands were shaking like he had Parkinson's.”

“You okay?”

“Not a problem. It wasn't fun, but I guess it needed to be done. That which doesn't kill us, makes us stronger, right?”

“Absolutely. We'll give Choate a couple of days to stew and then we'll go see Clay Flinders.”

“You get the sense this will end in a mess?”

“It's already a mess,” Service said. “What we need to do is bathe it in light and let processes work.”

“You say that like you're confident it will all work out.”

He was anything but confident, but kept quiet.

Leukonovich came down in a ratty gray terrycloth robe. “You put together that list of Piscova contracts yet?” he asked.

She went back upstairs and brought back the list. “I gave them to your girl earlier.”

The women were in bed. Service looked at the list. Piscova had contracts in North Dakota, South Dakota, Missouri, and Oklahoma. He went to the truck, got his laptop, brought it inside, plugged it in, and began surfing the Net for information.
This is not what a game warden does
, he told himself.

46

Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 2004

SARANAC, IONIA COUNTY

Service fell asleep with his head on the table next to his laptop. He was awakened by the scent of fresh coffee and Denninger trying to creep quietly around the kitchen area. “I'm awake,” he said.

“I'm convinced,” she said.

They sat quietly. Snow was falling outside and beginning to accumulate. “We're not going to get anything done this weekend,” he said. “You want to head home, go.”

“Alone there, company here, even if it's you. I'll stay. What about Flinders?”

“See if you can locate him and request a meeting for Monday.”

Leukonovich came downstairs in tights and a loose blouse, her feet in baggy wool socks.

“Coffee's ready,” Denninger said.

“Can you administer caffeine to Zhenya through IV?” the IRS agent asked.

Service thought she looked exhausted. “Sleep bad?”

“Zhenya always sleeps poorly,” she said. “Her mind has no off-switch—I think a design flaw on the part of God.”

There was a light knocking on the door and Denninger yelled that it was open.

CO Joe Cullen came in, looking sheepish. He was out of uniform, decked out in a down coat, snowpants, and Sorel boots. “Coffee on?”

“Grab a cup,” Service said.

The four sat in silence, nursing coffees, navel gazing, engulfed in a morning fugue. “You work out yet?” Cullen asked Denninger.

“Caffeine titers aren't high enough. You?”

“Thought I'd do a snowshoe run in the rec area. There are some good hills on one of the bike trails.”

Denninger smiled and perked up. “I'm up for that.”

She went upstairs and got dressed. Service looked at Cullen. “Have her home before midnight, Joe—or I'll have to kill you.”

Cullen looked like he couldn't decide if it was a joke. Service didn't know either. It had just popped out.

After the young officers were gone, Leukonovich said, “All of this sort of raw physical exertion is for the young. You do not accompany them?”

“I'll run later.”

“You seem old to be doing this work with such young people.”

“I am,” he said.

“Zhenya has decided to grant herself a day of rest.”

“Good for you.”

“But you, of course, will work. I see that you are highly motivated to fulfill the obligations of your work.”

“It's what I do.”

“The list was what you wished?”

“Yes, thanks.” Why was she being so solicitous?

He picked up his cell phone and saw her frown. He punched in Lisette McKower's home number and one of her daughters answered the phone.

“Is your mom there?”

“Mommy, it's
Godzilla!
”

“Grady?”

“What's up with that Godzilla crap?”

“They are convinced Godzilla is the coolest. Anybody they think is cool they call Godzilla. It's a compliment.”

“Godzilla's a big, ugly lizard.”

“But cool,” she said. “It's Thanksgiving. Why aren't you at home—or more to the point, in Houghton?”

Jesus, everyone had advice for him
. “What's Harvey Ghent's phone number?”

“Leave Harv alone,” she said sternly. “He's probably at his hunting camp, and there's no phone out there.”

“I need information.”

“What you need to do is take a deep breath and listen to me. Your name came up at the LED management meeting on Tuesday.”

“You were there?” The law division's management group was composed of the chief, his captains, the assistant chief, and senior district lieutenants from the north and south regions. McKower was relatively new and low in seniority.

“Captain Grant sent me to represent him. Black is gunning for you.”

“Fast Track can't hit shit.”

“You are singlehandedly turning the department upside down. The word is out that since Nantz died you've become more of a loose cannon, and you're off the reservation pursuing your own agenda. They're calling your case a witch hunt. The paranoia was palpable.”

“Only the dirtbags should be paranoid,” he countered.

“Grady Service, listen to me! When you allege corruption in state government, all employees suffer.”

“Are you telling me to back off?”

“I'm saying you need to be surgical in your approach.”

“What's Harvey's number?”

“You are so goddamned stubborn. Black wants all your records audited—gas card expenditures, expenses, equipment, time cards, everything. They're coming after you,” she said.

“I work for Captain Grant,” he said.

“Not anymore you don't. You're now an actual part of Wildlife Resource Protection and your report is in Gaylord.”

This fact stopped him. “Tree and I got sent into Laos one time. Our scout showed us a valley and said the enemy was down there, and if we went into the valley we would die. We told him if we didn't go into the valley, people who needed to die would live. We went.”

“You're talking crazy,” she said.

“I'm talking
reality
. The mission is the mission is the mission. When you start factoring in personal and professional risk, the mission is fucked.”

“They'll try to destroy you.”

“Does that mean you'll have to choose sides?”

“I hope not,” she said, “but I've got a family, a career, responsibilities. Most of us are in the same boat.”

“Lis, every bent motherfucker in the DNR diminishes all of us. They're a fucking cancer. You don't cut it out, it takes over and kills the whole shebang. Now, can I
please
have that number?”

She gave it to him and he hung up without further comment. He sat for a few minutes trying to reduce his heart rate, and when he had calmed down, started to punch in Harvey Ghent's number. He stopped after two digits and closed the phone. Why drag Ghent into this? He looked for Tassos Andriaitis's number and hit the speed dial.

He got the man's service and a message: “Can't make money gabbing on the phone. Leave your name and number.”

Service did as he was instructed and hung up. Andriaitis had said he would be in Alaska for two weeks before heading back to Florida. Was he in between now?
Shit
.

Zhenya Leukonovich went upstairs and came back down with a rubber mat, which she spread out on the floor. She peeled off her clothes and sat naked on the mat, her back straight, head up, legs crossed, her limp hands over her knees, palms up, eyes closed.

She was not exactly thin, but . . . He looked away. “Can you take that upstairs?”

“Silence please. Zhenya must meditate.”

“At least put on some clothes.”

“Zhenya must align her chakras. Please, there must be silence.”

He stepped outside on the balcony and had a cigarette. The wind was whipping from the southwest, the snowflakes wet and heavy.

When he finally went back inside Leukonovich had shifted her position. The bottoms of her feet were pressed against each other, her hands holding them in position. She was bent slightly forward, her breasts dangling heavily over her feet.

He sat down at his laptop and began trying to find information on paddlefish hatcheries in Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Missouri, and Oklahoma. The most information concerned a national fish hatchery in North Dakota and it appeared that the state depended on paddlefish eggs being reared there. How did the state work that with the feds?

“You are uncomfortable with the human body?” Leukonovich asked from her mat.

“You're done?”

“Yes,” she said. “Zhenya believes that all of nature is unclothed. Only man covers his body.”

“Some people need to,” he said.

“You are sexually repressed,” she said.

“I don't think so,” he said.

“I was in such a condition for many years, but now I have freed my sexuality.”

“Is that part of CPA training?”

“You amuse me,” she said. “A born leader, you hide all but your most aggressive feelings from others.”

His cell phone buzzed.

“Andriaitis.”

“How do states work with federal hatcheries?” Service asked.

“Lots of ways. Are you talking about Piscova?”

“They've got several contracts.”

“The most lucrative is North Dakota. The state pays Piscova to collect eggs, which they deliver to the Garrison Dam Federal Hatchery. The feds raise the eggs to planting size and then state Fish personnel handle the planting.”

“Do the feds collect eggs?”

“They take what they need from collectors paid for by the state. It's part of their payment,” said Andriaitis.

“Are you back in Florida?”

“Seattle. The weather is lousy. I'll probably be here for six hours or so until airports east of here clear up.”

“Do you know who handles the Piscova contract in North Dakota?”

“You should talk to the director, Gar Kochak. He's been there a long time, and all contracts, fish or game, eventually cross his desk.”

“How do you know so much?” asked Service.

“It's a small universe and those of us on the commercial side talk a lot and pay attention to what's going on. You snooze, you lose. Roxy said you two talked again.”

“We did. She seems all right, sort of resigned to whatever comes along.”

Andriaitis grunted. “Fucking Calvinist upbringing, predestination and such shit. Nothing's written. You write your own fucking life.”

Service agreed. “Not everyone buys into that.”

“Sad but true. You got what you want? I need a goddamn five-dollar beer.”

“Jingles Steinmetz,” Service said.

There was another audible grunt on the other end. “By God, you're starting to get somewhere, but be careful. Fagan's slippery, but Steinmetz is one vicious motherfucker.”

“Steinmetz and Fagan are partners.”

“Steinmetz staked him in the biz when he got started. I don't know what their deal is now.”

“Thanks.”

Cullen and Denninger came in as he closed his phone, walked over to the kitchen area, saw Leukonovich, and immediately turned away. “Geez,” Cullen mumbled.

“She's meditating,” Service said.

“Isn't she cold on the floor?”

“Apparently not.”

“We're gonna make hot chocolate,” Denninger said. “You want some?”

“Sure.”

Denninger went about making the drink and Cullen sat down next to Service, glanced at Leukonovich, turned back to Service, and rolled his eyes. “The detective business always like this?” the young officer asked.

“No,” Service said. “Sometimes it gets weird.”