Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) (28 page)

“I sorry, Lieutenant,” the janitor said in heavily accented English. “I new. They send me from Division. Regular guy sick. I not know I not supposed to go into room. Door open so I clean. I no mean harm.”

“Gregg, he recognizes the sign,” Blaak said, ignoring the apologies of the janitor.

Mann wheeled on the janitor who cringed farther. Mann smiled reassuringly and the man relaxed. “You know what that is?”

The janitor looked at Mann and Blaak as though they were crazy. Other detectives had come up behind him. Nervously, he nodded.

“What is it? You said something about the Rams. The football team, LA?”

“No. What is LA? No this High School. My son. He go Freemont. They called Rams. That on shirts. Circle with curve. Horns. Rams.”

“Where’s Freemont?”

“No there no more. Big fire ten years. Two girls. No study and start fire. No rebuild. No more Rams. Too bad. Good football.”

Mann looked at his watch but it was too late to get in touch with the School Board at the offices. He sat the janitor down at the nearest desk. “Somebody get this man a cup of coffee and a sandwich. Then, get working on Freemont.”

Mann started back to his office. “Blaak, get the team assembled. Then, get me someone on the School Board. Somebody that has been on for a while. Ten years would be good. Send a wake-up call and a car. I don’t care what it takes. Call the flipping Mayor if you have to. Just get a trustee down here.”

Feeling the pall lift, he walked back into his office as his cell phone rang.

*

“I’ve heard from another source.”

Distracted, Mann took a second to recognize the voice. “About?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. He confirms. It’s solid, Mann. Real solid.”

“Where are you?” Mann asked.

“At a bar,” Dani replied. “It’s uptown along Banker’s Boulevard.
Short Sell
.”

“Isn’t that a clever name,” Mann said. “You still working on that piece?”

“Should come together for next week or so. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow night?”

Mann pretended to think about it for a while. “I guess so.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Mann looked at his watch. It would be at least an hour before anyone arrived from the school board. There was time to take care of a little side business.

“I think I’ll find Degget and have some wings.”

“How coincidental.”

“OK. I’ll see you tomorrow. I may be late,” he added, nonchalantly.

“I may not be there to notice,” she shot back.

Mann put the phone down and wandered into the main office. Even at eleven o’clock at night, all the desks were filled. Degget wasn’t there so he wandered over to The List. Everyone on the Task Force, like everyone on the force, had to leave a contact number for after hours. The List, since they often contained numbers other than a spouse’s, was sacrosanct.

Mann dialed Degget’s number. When he got voice mail, he left a message. By the time he had grabbed a can of Pepsi and wandered back into his office, his desk phone was ringing.

“Mann.”

“Lou, you called?” Degget sounded relaxed but his voice was pitched low.

“Ya, would you like to get some wings?”

“Uh, I’m sort of in the middle of something here.”

“Sure, I understand,” Mann said. “I just got some information about an old case you were interested in.”

Degget played it calm but understood Mann’s message. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing anything important. Just let me finish up here and I’ll meet you. How’s fifteen, twenty minutes?”

“Know Harley’s?”

“Sure. I’m not far. See you then.”

*

Harley’s was a cliché cop bar in Southfield Division. It was all dark wood, a long bar, private booths along two walls and tables in the center. No cops were in uniform but two minutes in the place and you could tell you were surrounded with cops. Girlfriends were not encouraged and spouses were virtually outlawed. Still a sexist, closed lot, most of the brotherhood still felt uncomfortable with female members of the force. Most of the women knew they weren’t exactly welcome but found a way to put up with the bullshit and give as good as they got. It was a work in progress.

Degget arrived as Mann was talking with some Southfield detectives who weren’t on the task force. They walked to a back table that cleared when word passed that Mann was in the bar. At the table, they had barely sat down when Linda bounced to their table, braless breasts prominent under a white T-shirt. “Hi, Lou. What’ll it be?”

“Give us a pile and a pitcher.”

She nodded and walked away. They watched her ample ass, barely contained in a pair of shorts. “I don’t know if we’ll get one glass or two. I’m not sure she even noticed me,” Degget complained.

“When you grow up and get to be a lieutenant, you’ll get noticed.”

Mann brought Degget up to speed on the latest break in the Slasher case while they waited for the food. Linda was back in a couple minutes with a pitcher and a large plate of wings. Degget pointed at the pitcher. “What kind of beer is that?”

Linda laughed. “The Pepsi kind.”

“Shit,” Degget said, the disgust clear in his voice. “Can I get a Bud Light?”

As Linda left, Mann told Degget about Dani’s snitch. “She says it’s solid. Whoever is working this for Angelino is high up.”

“Doesn’t track with what I’m working on,” Degget replied.

“Which is?”

“It is early yet. Give me a bit more time. I’m feeling stupid enough as it is that I missed it.”

“SOCU?”

“Gotta be SOCU. I was burned two days after the meeting. No way that’s a coincidence. Coincidences just don’t happen. Not after two years. It had to be someone in SOCU. I’ve narrowed it down and I think I have my guy.”

“So you think we are looking for two guys?”

“It figures. Angelino probably has ten guys. But I’ll make you a deal. You can have in on my guy if I get in on your guy.”

“To be honest, I was hoping my guy was your guy. Davis has been looking at it and has come up with nothing. You were our best lead.”

“Sorry. Tell you what. After I finish taking care of my problem, I’ll be more than happy to solve yours for you,” Degget offered. “I’m sure a younger mind would help you
seasoned
detectives.”

Hill worried the pick back and forth in the lock. His practiced fingers sensed the proper alignment and twisted the fine pieces of metal. The lock opened and he turned the door knob. Picking up the briefcase, he eased the door open. One minute and twenty two seconds after he started working on the three locks, he was standing in the front hall of the apartment.

A quick search of the apartment turned up an extra set of keys and about three hundred dollars. He took the keys but left the money. He went into the kitchen through the swinging door and saw what he needed. Setting the briefcase down, he began pulling several pieces of equipment out. He laid them on the floor and crouched behind the door.

Using a special epoxy, he attached a piece of flint to the bottom of the swinging door. Then, he carefully eased the door open until it was about half way – what he calculated as the point of maximum thrust. He laid a piece of metal on the floor so it was in line with the flint. He secured this to the floor. He stood up and nodded with satisfaction.

After waiting for the epoxy to dry, he tried the door. Pulling it open, the flint struck the metal. The piece of metal broke away from the floor but not before giving a large spark. Satisfied, he re-glued the piece of metal to the same spot on the floor and left the kitchen.

He sat down on the couch in the living room and opened his briefcase again. He removed a thermos of coffee.

Thank God for Angelino’s pipeline into the police. If not for that information, he would not have been able to clear up this loose end so easily. Between Angelino’s rat and his own network, finding his man had been a simple task. Hard to believe the lowlife was the Slasher but if the police thought so, who was he to argue?

He felt his phone vibrate in his chest pocket and then go still.

Taking the phone out, he glanced at the text message.

10, was all it said. He had ten minutes until he arrived.

Hill returned to the kitchen and went to the stove. He dowsed the pilot light and turned on the elements. He could instantly smell the gas. He eased out the kitchen door, making sure the flint did not make contact.

Picking up his briefcase, he casually left the apartment. Using the extra set of keys, he relocked the door. He left the apartment building but lingered in the neighborhood. Finally, his prey turned up. He didn’t look all that strange. Sure didn’t look like a crazy killer.

But Hill didn’t look like a hit man either.

*

Drabick came in the apartment and set the pile of mail down on the sideboard. He took off his jacket and tossed it over a chair.

The pile of mail was large but most of it was junk and bills. A quick look through showed him only two interesting pieces. He placed them at the top of the stack and went for a beer.

He could smell the gas before he even got to the kitchen.

Instinctively, he hurried into the kitchen, shoving the door open hard.

*

“They said to wait for SWAT,” the patrolman behind the wheel cautioned after they saw Drabick walk into his apartment building. “They don’t want to lose this guy. Think one of us should check the back?”

His partner never answered. The explosion from the second story window cut off his words. They both instinctively ducked down as bits of building showered down on the car.

Seeing which apartment had exploded, the driver responded first and reached up for the radio mike. “Omega watch three to Omega central. Omega watch three to Omega central.”

“Omega central, go ahead.”

“We have an explosion at fifteen thirty Water Street. Request fire and ambulance. Plain clothes detectives on scene.”

“Roger.”

“Central? Get me a secure to Lieutenant Mann, immediately.”

While he waited for the patch, his partner got out of the car. He leaned back in through the open door. “Mann’s gonna shit.”

“Maybe the tax payers just saved a whole lot of money on a trial.”

“As long as Drabick was the Slasher.”

Leonard Beverly.

Degget began to think of himself as a closet sexist. He hadn’t really expected Flem’s assistant to be a man. But here he was following a man in his late twenties out of SOCU headquarters.

Unfortunately, because Beverly did have a good alarm system in his home, getting any information that way was out. But although Degget’s own alarm system was sounding loud and clear, he just didn’t know if he could trust his intuition anymore.

Two years spent with nothing but bad guys made you very suspicious of everyone’s motive. It hadn’t been so much as if a guy was guilty; it was
what
he was guilty of. Besides, he wanted someone to be bent. He needed to find the person that had handed him to Angelino. That person needed to pay and so Degget was suspecting guilt where it might not exist. Still, Beverly just seemed wrong.

First, there was the car, a Lexus IS 250. Great car, not an SC 450, but still way too rich for Beverly’s position. Degget had run the plates and couldn’t find anything against it. DMV revealed that it wasn’t a lease so how did Beverly afford it on his wage? Especially along with the rather nice condo that he also owned – apparently free and clear from what Degget could find out. There was too much money flowing unless he had won a lottery or inherited a lot of money.

And then there was the fact that Beverly didn’t like to be followed.

Three nights running, Beverly had lost Degget by parking his car and getting lost either in pedestrian traffic, once in a mall or by taking a passing cab. The first two times, Degget blamed himself because he just hadn’t expected the moves. The third time was just bad luck that he couldn’t get a cab to follow Beverly. Getting back to his car in time was impossible so Degget had given up and again waited for Beverly to show up at his car. The first two nights, Beverly returned to his car sometime well past midnight. The third night, he hadn’t come back to pick up his car until eight the next morning.

Degget would have sworn he hadn’t been made. Beverly just seemed to want to disappear. The real question was why and what was he doing that required such behavior. Although determined to find out what that reason was, Degget was finding his additional investigations difficult. With things really heating up on the Slasher case, Degget’s coverage of Beverly was spotty at best. Nevertheless, he was sure that he had his mole.

“Yes, sir. Can I help you? Excuse me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No problem,” Preston said, hoping he didn’t look guilty. “I’m looking for a bathing suit.”

“Of course. Let’s see what we can find.”

The saleslady turned to the rack of swimsuits and started to shuffle through them. “Was there a particular suit you had in mind? A style or a color?”

He shrugged and smiled. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. I’ve never bought anything like this before. I, well, you know how it is.”

Della smiled in return. She had seen many men come in wanting to buy a gift but not really knowing the first thing about what they were buying. Still, at least they would come in and make the attempt. Her own husband wouldn’t even come in the store to pick her up.

“No need to be embarrassed, sir. I’m sure that we can find something she will like.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

He smiled again and she smiled back. Such a courteous man, she thought to herself. Nervous, but that was understandable. “What size is she? A larger girl?”

“She takes a size six dress.”

She averted her eyes and blushed.

“Yes, of course,” she said, angry at herself for assuming he would be with a large woman. “Sounds like you know her size quite well. That helps. The suits aren’t returnable, you see, for sanitary reasons.”

“Certainly. The size is no problem,” he chuckled. “I’ve been snooping.”

She nodded knowingly and he relaxed. He’d had to guess at the size but that wasn’t important. Not like she was going to wear it forever – just the rest of her life.