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Authors: Lowen Clausen

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First Avenue (40 page)

BOOK: First Avenue
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Chapter 36
 

Sam found Markowitz pacing back and forth in front of his desk with the telephone to his ear, but he was not talking to anyone. It was after five, and except for
Markowitz
, the desks in Homicide were empty. When he saw
Sam
, he dropped the telephone back into its carriage.

“Damn it,
Sam
, where have you been? I’ve been trying to find you for the last half hour.”

“Getting the girl stashed away. Why? What’s up?”

“Read this.”
Markowitz
pulled a typed statement out of his briefcase and handed it to
Sam
.

Sam scanned the statement and looked back at
Markowitz
.

“How did you get him to talk?”

“When I got him alone and told him he’s looking at second-degree assault and a long vacation at taxpayer expense, he decided to sing. Read.”

Sam began reading standing up, then sat down next to
Markowitz
’s desk.
Markowitz
continued to stand guard.
Sam
read the statement through once and then again to make certain he understood.

“Who else knows about this?”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”
Markowitz
finally sat down and moved his chair close to
Sam
. “I was alone with the kid, and I told him to keep his mouth shut around everybody else. At first I thought you were out of your mind, but now you’ve got me looking over my shoulder, too.”

“Do you believe this kid?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I do.”

“Damn right you do. Look, the kid says this deal is supposed to go down tonight, and he’ll tell us where it is if we give him his walking papers.”

“Come on,
Markowitz
. These guys can’t be that stupid. After what happened today, every one of them will be looking for a hole to crawl into. Nothing is going to happen tonight.”

Before
Markowitz
could respond,
Sam
crumpled up the statement sheet into a little ball and threw it into the wastebasket.
Markowitz
nearly exploded from his chair, but he caught the look from
Sam
just in time.
Markowitz
didn’t move. A figure was weaving silently toward them through the rows of desks.

“Hi ya, Captain,”
Markowitz
said. “What brings you up to this part of the world?”

“I thought I might find
Officer
Wright
here. We seemed to get off on the wrong foot a little earlier. I just want to make certain that personal feelings don’t interfere with the job we have to do.”

“I appreciate that, Captain,”
Sam
said. “I think I got out of line. A little too pumped up, maybe.”

“Sure. Sometimes the old adrenaline kicks in, and we don’t stop and think the whole thing through. So how’s it going here?” the captain asked.

“We’re going nowhere,”
Sam
said. “The girl clammed up like somebody pulled out her tongue, and all she wants to do is go back to
Alaska
. Her family is getting her a ticket, and she’ll be gone tomorrow.
Markowitz
didn’t find anything at the Donut Shop. Nothing. And the two punks aren’t saying anything either.
Markowitz
says we’ll have to kick them loose tomorrow.”

The captain stood benevolently over them with his arms clasped behind his back. He rocked back and forth on his heels and toes and reminded
Sam
of his grade-school principal. Such a look usually meant he was going to get out of the office without much punishment.

“Well, that’s a shame. Although I disagreed with your procedures, it was still a good effort.”

“Can of worms,”
Sam
said. “Everything on that street turns out that way. You know,”
Sam
said, trying to recall the sincerity he used with the grade-school principal, “you kind of got me thinking. A change of scenery might not be such a bad idea. Maybe Queen Anne or Magnolia, someplace like that.”

“Well, you let me know if I can help,” the captain said, continuing his agreeable tone.

“Thanks,”
Sam
said. “Do you want to see the report when I finish?”

“Oh, just drop it in the box. It’ll get to me eventually.”

The captain smiled and walked away. For some moments neither
Sam
nor
Markowitz
said anything. When it seemed certain the captain would not return,
Markowitz
slowly twisted his neck so that he could see the door, then untwisted it.

“What the hell was that all about?”
Markowitz
asked.

“That was about your worst nightmare. ‘Big guy, slicked-back hair’ mean anything to you?”


Captain
Russell
?”
Markowitz
asked.

After
Sam
told him what had happened in the captain’s office, they both slumped into their chairs.
Sam
could think of nothing more to do. His mind, blank and used up, refused to focus on the next step—refused, for a time, to even acknowledge that there must be a next step.

Markowitz reached into the wastebasket and pulled out the crumpled statement.

“You know, Wright, I think the captain might just have answered your question.”

“What question?”
Sam
asked.

“Whoever these people are, the captain included, might just be stupid enough to do that deal tonight. If he thinks we’re going to drop this, and I think that’s what he thinks, they might just have this little party after all. We have to find a way to crash it.”

“How?”

“Don’t know yet. I need to talk to the kid again.”

“If this kid knows so much, why doesn’t he know what happened to
Alberta
?”
Sam
asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What about
Rutherford
? Did you ask him?”

“I did, but he won’t talk. That kid is bad news.”

“So what do you think,
Markowitz
? We’ve got enough now to go to the Feds? What do we know about this stuff?”

“You’ve been watching too many movies, Wright. We don’t need them to screw this up. We’re quite able to do that ourselves. Besides, it is now
5:30
in the afternoon,”
Markowitz
said as he looked at his wristwatch with exaggerated motions, “and for all meaningful activity, the federal government is closed for the day. We don’t have time to get that show on the road.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I guess I am. Hey, what is this? You don’t sound too enthusiastic all of a sudden.”

“I’m so excited I can’t see straight,”
Sam
said. “I just wish it were over.”

“Well, it isn’t over, and it’s not going to be over for a long time. You’d better get used to that. Even when it’s finished, it’s not going to be finished. You know what I mean?”

“I’m beginning to understand.”

“I hope so. You’re the one who got me into this mess. Now you write the report and give the captain some hocus-pocus about uncooperative witnesses and victims. I’ll go see how badly our
Mr.
Jack
wants to walk. An hour enough time for you?”

“More than enough. Want me to meet you back here?”

“I don’t think so. How about A deck? I’ll check out a car and wait for you down there.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I already checked out a car,”
Sam
said.

“Turn it in,”
Markowitz
said. “I want everyone to think your day is over. I’ll get us another one and meet you on A deck.”

Sam sat at the typewriter in the patrol write-up room and banged out the report. The uncooperative victim did not wish to prosecute and declined to provide information about the conduct of the suspects. The suspects, who also wished not to be prosecuted, declined the invitation to confess. The suspects were booked into jail for “suspicion of assault.” The crime scene and the follow-up investigation were turned over to Detective Markowitz.

He was certain that within a few hours, sooner perhaps, the report would work its way up through the ranks and would find what everyone who read it would believe to be its final resting place. That was what he wanted. About that time
Sam
hoped there would be a good deal more to add. It had to happen soon. What if it didn’t happen? What if it did?

He took the report into the office and dropped it in front of the sergeant who had desk duty.
Sam
had worked for him years before. The sergeant picked up the report and tilted back in his swivel chair.

“Is this the assault at the Donut Shop?” he asked. He quickly scanned the report to see if he needed to pay attention.

“Yes,”
Sam
said. “But the victim won’t cooperate. We have probable cause, but without her help, we don’t have a case.”

The sergeant nodded his head and decided to read the report entirely.
Sam
sat down in the chair across from him and waited. When the sergeant finished the incident report, he picked up the officer’s statement. Before looking up again, the sergeant signed the report and pushed the pages across the desk to
Sam
.

“It was good work anyway. Got an overtime slip for me to sign?”

“I’m going to let this one go. The captain chewed me out already for busting into the basement without waiting for backup. I don’t think he wants to see an overtime slip.”

“Judgment call. No right way. You make out an overtime slip, I’ll sign it.”

“I appreciate that. Next time.”

Sam gathered the paperwork and tapped it into a neat bundle. When he got up to leave, the sergeant resumed his tilted position.

“You still writing those poems?”

“Sort of,”
Sam
said. He was surprised that his old boss would remember. “They amount to about as much as this report.”

“I read some once. Seemed pretty good to me. Only time I ever had a poet work for me.”

Sam took the stairs down to A deck and opened the metal door into the garage. There was no activity on this level. The gray concrete walls absorbed most of the light from the sparsely placed light bulbs anchored over the center of the aisle. He couldn’t see
Markowitz
.

The headlights of a beige Dodge Dart flashed on and off at the far end of the floor, and
Sam
headed that way. He saw a reflection of light from Markowitz’s glasses as Markowitz reached over to the passenger door and pulled up the lock. There was barely enough room between cars for
Sam
to open the door and squeeze in. Two shotguns, with their stocks side by side on the floor, pointed toward the ceiling.
Markowitz
pulled aside a box of shells on the seat as
Sam
sat down.

“Going hunting?”
Sam
asked.

“Fishing. I thought these might come in handy.”

“They usually do. So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“That’s what we need to talk about. Young Jack may have earned himself his walking papers. He said five kilos of heroin are on board a ship here.”

“Five kilos. How much is that worth?”

“I don’t know. More than we’d ever make.”

“Which ship is it on?”

“Well, you see, he doesn’t know. Now don’t panic.” His raised hand held down
Sam
’s expected response. “He said it’s Asian dope, so I called the Coast Guard. There’s only one ship here from
Southeast Asia
. The
De la Cruz
—Panamanian flag. It got here last night. Last stop was
Thailand
. It’s anchored off
Harbor
Island
right now. That’s got to be it.”

“And if it isn’t? What about a Japanese ship? There have to be a bunch of them.”

“Do you want to listen to the rest of this?”

“I’m listening.”

“The kid says they have to do this deal tonight. He’s not sure why, but there has to be a reason. So I checked into it. The
De la Cruz
is scheduled to dock at Pier 43 in the morning. It has one day to unload, and then it’s out of here. I don’t think they want to bring the stuff onshore. The kid says that these deals always happen out in the Sound. Buyer and seller each have a boat and they meet out there. The kid says they do it in open water so they can spot anybody coming.”

“How does he know this?”

“He’s been in on three deals. This is supposed to be the biggest by far. They used
Abbott
’s boat before.
Pierre
is the buyer. The kid doesn’t know who the sellers are—he’s never seen them—but I think we have an idea who they might be. The deal goes down on the sellers’ boat, and
Pierre
is the only one who goes on it.”

“Here’s the tricky part. The kid says they never come back to
Seattle
. Last time, they landed in
Bremerton
. But they might go to
Everett
or
Tacoma
. We don’t know. We can’t take a chance on losing them. We’ve got to get close without spooking them. If they dump the stuff over the side, we’re dead in the water.”

“So how do we do that?”
Sam
asked.

“I figured we could use Harbor. They have a couple boats. We won’t tell them what’s going on until we get everybody together. Then nobody leaves. We follow the sellers’ boat out from the
De la Cruz
and sneak up on them when they meet.”

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“No. If they take off, we’re out of luck. But the weather is so lousy we might have a chance.”

“How many bad guys do you think will be there?”

“I’d guess five or six,”
Markowitz
said.

“What happens if there are twenty?”

“There won’t be. Too many eyes. Too many mouths.”

“But if there are?”

“We call the Navy. Look, if you have a better idea, sing out.”

Sam thought and thought, but he didn’t sing.

“By the way, here’s an interesting bit of information. When the boat lands, guess who’s waiting for them with a car?
Robert
J.
Morris
—the same guy
Diane
talked about. The kid thinks
Morris
might be on board
Pierre
’s boat tonight instead of waiting on land. He thinks they might be a little shorthanded.”

“What about us?”
Sam
asked.

“We’ll have enough with the Harbor guys. We could call Murphy, too,”
Markowitz
said. “She ought to be part of this.”

“That’s the only good idea you’ve had so far. Stop at a phone when we get out of here. I’ll give her a call. She can meet us at Harbor.”

“Do you know her home number?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you might,”
Markowitz
said.

Sam let
Markowitz
’s thoughts pass without comment as they drove out of the garage. It was raining hard again. The wind, swirling around buildings, blew rain in all directions. With the windshield wipers at high speed,
Markowitz
headed up the steep hill on
Cherry Street
. His tires spun on the slick pavement until he eased off the gas pedal. It would take more than a day to wash away the dirt and oil accumulated since the last rain.

“No need to hurry yet,” Markowitz told himself aloud as though he might forget if he didn’t hear the words.

BOOK: First Avenue
3.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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