“Could be,” he said.
“There seems to be something going on in the Urban house and I’m wondering if it’s more than just a bad atmosphere for the young boy,” she said.
“Hard to say,” he replied, not meeting her eyes.
“Something?”
“No…no. As a matter of fact, Social Services is going after the boy, and wants me involved.
“You’ll be testifying?”
He stiffened. “Uh…we’ll see.” Then, “Andy, I’ve gotta go. See you soon!” He made for his car and was off to wherever that was.
~ * ~
“What?” Arnold Terry flipped his glasses back on top of his head and stared at Andy in amazement. “Dale Urban? The guy’s a civic hero! The business community loves him and loves his project. The council’s going to vote for it, or I’m Justin Trudeau!”
“Hear me out, for heaven’s sake!” Andy dumped her bag in the desk drawer, plopped in her chair. “Savos is definitely dealing opioids; probably supplied Hoyne’s habit and likely gave him something with too much fentanyl in it and nearly killed him. If true, that ties Savos to a fentanyl supply. Charles Bell told us Hobbs has the only supply of pure fentanyl in the area, and we can connect Hobbs to Savos.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with Dale Urban!”
“Nick Savos has to be getting fentanyl from somewhere! How long has Urban been in the Sault? I checked. Five years! What do we know about him? Say, for the sake of argument, he is the supplier. What better way to clean money than a huge construction project where you and your dummy companies are the builders? Remember the Bitcoin data in Savos’ computer You said it didn’t make sense for a local hood like Savos to dabble in digital currency…must be allied with someone more sophisticated.”
Terry said, “Okay, plausible, but it’s little more than conjecture.”
“And that, my dear partner, is better than anything we’ve sniffed out yet!”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll run that thesis by Hobbs as if we already have evidence to support it just to see how he reacts. You go ahead and poke into Urban’s past. We’ll compare notes.”
~ * ~
The annoying music played while Andy was on hold, but a pleasant voice came on the line. “Yes, I have the article. It’s from five years ago. I’ll fax a copy over to you.”
As promised, Andy was able to pull the newspaper article off the fax machine almost immediately. It was from the “Money” section of the Sault Star about the development of a defunct shopping center by a newcomer to Sault Ste. Marie, Dale Urban, citing Mr. Urban’s significant contributions to similar projects throughout British Columbia.
Andy took a flyer, and contacted her friend Bob Simon of the Vancouver PD.
“Andy Blake! Haven’t heard from you in a while,” he answered.
Simon had cooperated with Andy in tracking down a serial killer two years earlier. She reciprocated soon after by locating a missing person for him. “Bob, I’m wondering if you can give me anything about a Dale Urban living in your province five years ago, or more.
“Call you back!” he promised.
It was less than ten minutes before her mobile phone buzzed.
“Yeah. Lived here for about fifteen years. Employed as a pharmacist for five of them, then as a developer, according to the tax records.”
“Pharmacist!” Andy exclaimed.
“Mean anything?” Simon asked.
“It could. Was he a registered pharmacist, or merely worked in a pharmacy?”
“Can’t answer that one, off hand. The pharmacy was in a Walmart store. I can check and get back to you. It may not be today.”
She thanked him, wondering if this new information was relevant or merely coincidence.
~ * ~
“Dammit Blake, if you haven’t hit on something!” Terry burst into the office with the usual explosion of his presence.
“You mean I’m right again? What now?”
“Don’t gloat, but I bluffed Hobbs that we had evidence Savos was being supplied by none-other than Dale Urban. Mr. Tough-guy nearly wet himself!”
“Really!” Andy nearly came out of her chair. “Arnold, I talked to Bob Simon in Vancouver. This is beginning to get interesting.” She told him about Urban having a job several years earlier in a pharmacy. “I have him digging deeper into this man’s past.”
Terry gazed at the ceiling, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, let’s go down that trail. Hobbs admitted making deliveries to the Urban house…the same house Eddie Hoyne visited. There’s way too much going on here to ignore. What does Joe Riccia have to say about Urban?”
“Said there was something ‘fishy’ going on over there.”
Her phone buzzed. It was Kevin Campbell.
“Andy, sorry I haven’t called to thank you for a nice weekend. I needed that break. Dinner tonight?”
The choice was between a quiet dinner with a charming man and going home to a microwave dinner with Throckmorton. She chose the former.
“Where and when?” she said.
Thirty-three
As is usually the case, it’s the out-of-towners who find new and interesting restaurants. Campbell picked Andy up at the detachment and drove west out of town to a new establishment on the bluffs overlooking Lake Superior. The sun was setting, and the sky was crimson; the few clouds, pink cotton candy suspended over emerald water.
“You know how to treat a lady,” Andy said. “That is spectacular.”
Decent enough food was augmented with excellent service and they tarried over coffees.
“You were quiet tonight,” Andy said.
“Was I? Maybe so.”
“Something on your mind?”
“Yeah…No! Really! I’m good. What about you? How’s your investigation going?”
She broke her own rule of not talking about work outside the office, deciding Campbell was almost a colleague. “I think we’re making progress. It’s possibly tied in with your interest in the Urban child.”
“In what way?”
“We know that your Mr. Hoyne made deliveries and other errands for Nicholas Savos. While not proven, we strongly suspect Savos and his henchman, a guy named Hobbs, distribute most of the opioids around here, probably the U.P. of Michigan, too, and seem to be the only source of pure fentanyl tabs. We know of at least four incidents in the past month when someone connected to Savos made deliveries to Dale Urban’s home.
“That got us wondering why, so we’ve looked into Urban’s past and found some interesting stuff.”
Campbell stared into his coffee cup, swirling the dregs for a long moment. “The Services are trying to remove his son from the home. Did you know?”
Andy admitted she did not.
“I’ve been asked to testify at the hearing.”
“You should know as much about the boy as anyone,” Andy said. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“No…no. It shouldn’t,” he said.
Andy thought perhaps he was not so sure.
~ * ~
Urban zipped up and moved to the line of sinks in the men’s room. He washed up, checking to see himself in the mirror. He’d arranged for Mrs. Pearl to stay with Joey, who had, at least temporarily, been removed from school until the hearing.
Calm down, for God’s sake! He was still incensed about having been served the summons. It would do no good to appear rattled. To appear at all would be humiliating, at best, but not to seem completely confident and unflappable would make matters worse. He took one last look, straightened his tie, and headed for the courtroom.
~ * ~
Terry greeted her that morning with an admonition. “You’re getting too old for all that, Blake!”
“What does that mean?”
“I can tell when you have your pick-up hockey games. Those bones of yours aren’t twenty anymore. You move like a cripple.”
“A little rougher than usual today, Detective. You should see the other guy!”
He laughe
d. “Christ! I don’t know how you do it. Get yourself together. The boss wants to get briefed.”
They spent fifteen minutes with Roberts, who seemed somewhat skeptical, but agreed they had no better options than to follow up on their lead about Urban.
Returning to their office, there was a message to contact Detective Robert Simon of the Vancouver PD.
“Let’s hope he has something for us,” Andy said, punching in his number. “Bob! Must not even be eight o’clock out there!”
She listened as he gave her a summary of a report he was assembling for them about Dale Urban, aka Daniel Champion.
“He changed his name! When did that happen?”
“Apparently shortly after he took the job in the Walmart pharmacy. It’s the same guy, all right. Tax records don’t lie.”
“I wonder why,” Andy said.
“I can guess. The application for the Walmart job cited his degree from the University of Alberta School of Pharmacy. We checked it out and what do you know?”
“He didn’t graduate?”
“He walked through the ceremony, but there was an ongoing investigation about missing drugs in the pharmacy. The university rescinded his degree, but there was no formal charge on a police record.”
“Was he hired as a pharmacist?” Andy asked.
“He’d hung on to the diploma they handed out at the ceremony. The company never verified it with the university.”
“Once a crook, always a crook, I guess. Thanks, Bob. This really gives us enough for a warrant.”
She bade him good-bye and repeated it all to Terry, who already had the paperwork started.
~ * ~
If Urban expected a courtroom venue for the hearing, he was mistaken. Room 317 was a midsized conference room where, at the head of a long table, a man in a business suit sat reading from a file. To his left sat the Bryant woman from Social Services. Opposite her, another woman sat with a recorder and open laptop at the ready.
The man stood. “I’m Judge Alan Carpenter, Mr. Urban. If you will…” He gestured to an empty chair.
Urban sat next to the computer lady.
Carpenter said, “You already know Mrs. Bryant. This is Ms. Daly, who’ll be recoding the meeting. We’re waiting for one more.” He looked expectantly at Mrs. Bryant.
She was tapping her pencil and looking through the open door into the corridor. “Something must have delayed him, Judge. I saw him in the car park.” She checked her phone. Seeing no message, she walked to the door and peered up and down the hall.
The steno said, “I told Dr. Campbell Room three-seventeen at ten.”
“He’ll be here,” Bryant assured.
After fifteen minutes, Urban said. “This is long enough, sir. If I may…”
“We’ll have to set a new date, I’m afraid,” Carpenter said. He flipped open his calendar. “I have an hour open slot on…Wednesday afternoon of next week. Two-thirty.”
The steno was busy making a note of the new date while Urban made it for the hall and stairwell.
~ * ~
Driving home, Urban mused how it had always been like that. He was gifted with a charmed life. Skating on a formal charge of selling drugs at school was an example. Then, those idiots accepting his worthless diploma for the job that led to the perfect setup he now enjoyed.
Now this. In another week he’d be a goddam celebrity around there. He was confident he could work something out about the kid, even a boarding school somewhere. Good things just seemed to work out for him.
The heady feeling burst at the sight of four cars in front of his house. Three of them were police patrol cars.
He pressed the garage remote and pulled the Lexus inside. A big, bald-headed man greeted him there with a badge as he exited.
“Mr. Urban, I’m Detective Terry, Province Police. I’m going to ask you to allow us to search your premises.” He produced paperwork that looked real enough.
“I’ve already let you people through the place. Besides, the custody hearing is called off!”
“This has nothing to do with custody, sir.”
Other officers were following into the garage, including a woman flashing her own ID.
“And that would be what?” Urban demanded.
“The illegal distribution of drugs, sir,” the woman said.
“That’s absurd!”
The big cop pushed past him to the door from the garage into the house. “Not according to the magistrate who signed the warrant, Mr. Urban. Will you unlock the door, please?”
“It’s unlocked. Go ahead…suit yourself! I know nothing about any drugs except what’s in my medicine cabinet.”
He relaxed a bit. They’d find nothing, of course. His real concern was what evidence justified that warrant. The door opened into the kitchen where, to his utter surprise, stood Mrs. Pearl! He hadn’t noticed her car among the others.
“Um…these people seem to feel there’s something here worth their time to find, Mrs. Pearl. Let’s afford them every courtesy.”
Sophia Pearl stared wide-eyed as the two detectives and four uniformed constables marched through the kitchen. Joey appeared from the next room to watch the parade.
“I thought you would be longer at the hearing, Mr. Urban,” Mrs. Pearl said.
He ignored the comment. “Joey! Stay out of everyone’s way. Go back to your room.”
The woman cop said to the bald one, “Tony and I will start with the bedrooms.”
Urban said, “Help yourselves! I’ll just relax while you waste your time.” He headed for the wet bar in the living room and poured himself a whiskey.
Thirty-four
Andy and Crucianni worked as a team, following the protocol of not working alone lest being accused of planting evidence. They’d found nothing after searching Urban’s bedroom, master bath, and the room he’d converted into an office. They arrived in the boy’s room to find him reading—of all things—a math textbook.
“Some heavy reading, there,” Andy said to the boy.
“I…t’s Eddie’s. Mmmm…He’s my friend. Whh…what…you lookin for?”
He was a nice-looking boy of eight or nine. Andy could see why Marly Quinn and Eddie Hoyne might have warmed to him. She remembered Marly talking of the boy’s intelligence. Also, his challenges.
“Joey, right? We really don’t know, Joey.”
“Is it a g…ame?” He kept his attention on the book as he spoke.
Well, kind of…”
“Secret places?”
“Yes!” Andy said, giving Crucianni a hopeful glance.
“The h…hole.”
“The hole?”
“Be…hind the desk.”
“Show us,” Crucianni said.
“No!” Joey Urban clearly shut down, putting his hands over his face, and turning away.
“Well, thank you for that, Joey,” Andy said, and led Crucianni back into the office.
It took them a while, but under the credenza behind Urban’s desk chair, two parquet tiles came away, exposing the steel lid to a box in the floor. Crucianni got on hands and knees to lift it up to the desk. Inside was more than one hundred thousand US dollars, and a manila envelope inside of which were several lists of numbers that looked much like those in Nicholas Savos’ computer.
“Arnold!” Andy called. “You might want to see this!”
Terry arrived with Urban at his heels. Terry took his time examining the box’s contents, then looked at Urban.
“So! I keep a lot of cash at times,” Urban said. He began to return to the living room.
“What about these?” Terry held the list of cryptic numbers.
“Transactions with my suppliers and contractors. It’s really none of your business.”
“Trouble is,” Andy said, “these look awfully familiar.”
“I’d have no opinion about that,” Urban said and disappeared.
“I think this is about as good as we could have hoped, Blake,” Terry said.
Andy told Cru
cianni to secure the box and began to fill out a receipt to give to Urban.
Terry said, “I want to confront Savos with these numbers. If we’re lucky, we can get him to sing us a song.”
On the way out, Andy stopped by the boy’s room where he was still engrossed in the textbook. “Joey, thanks for the hint about the ‘hole.’ We found it.”
“Aa…and the washing muh…machine.”
She remembered having missed a sock or a hand towel in her own washer and finding it stuck to the drum. She returned for another inspection, but they’d missed nothing. No matter. The search had given them plenty.
~ * ~
Darrell Eaton pursed his lips. He’d just heard Detectives Blake and Terry’s summary of the evidence they’d brought to the lead prosecutor for the Ministry of the Attorney General, Sault Ste. Marie. “And you say this man Savos won’t implicate Urban?”
Terry crossed his arms. “Unfortunately, no. It’ll cost him if we ever convict Urban. He could have cooperated and helped himself a lot.”
“Officers, without more than this I don’t think you have enough to convict any of these people. What you have here is very compelling circumstantial evidence of wrongdoing. But I’d be averse to bringing this to trial without the proverbial smoking gun.”
Andy said, “Namely, a cache of drugs!”
Eaton said, “Exactly. Not just the drugs, but clear evidence of their link to Urban. You have enough to go after the guy with the pill machine, and maybe that man Hobbs. After that, it gets to be more a question of speculation, not hard evidence.”
Andy had intuitively expected this outcome, but Terry had suggested they bring it to Eaton anyway. “At least we’ll know where we stand,” he’d said.
Eaton said, “Look. I think you have the right guy, and I think the jury would be on your side, but any judge would instruct them to give a guilty verdict only if there was irrefutable evidence. That you haven’t got.”
Andy slumped a bit in her chair. “He could have stashed the stuff anywhere in a fifty-kilometer radius of town.”
“That, Ms. Blake, is why they pay you folks the big bucks.”
Neither Terry nor Andy laughed.
~ * ~
Back in Terry’s Buick, Andy said, “So even if we do find a bag of fentanyl somewhere, it does us no good unless we can tie it to Urban. What are the chances?”
Steel Town Page 16
