by Gale Borger
I saluted him with my middle finger. “O-Tay Mr. Sherwiff. I’ll be waiting by the phone until you call. Pant, pant.”
“I heard that, Smartass,” he said, as he barreled into his office and slammed the door.
We followed him in, Mom was gone, and Mag had already begun the interview. She stopped Alejandro and turned off the recorder. She looked up and smiled.
“Great timing, folks. Alejandro needs a bathroom break and I’m thirsty. Grab a seat and we’ll get right back at it.”
She gestured to J.J.‘s office as she whisked out the door like she’d been interviewing subjects all her life. J.J. turned to me and pointed at the door.
“Okay, who is that, and what has she done with your sister?”
I was still staring after Mag, somewhat bewildered. “I don’t know, J.J., but something sure is different. Hey, Ian, didn’t we lose the old Mag somewhere back at the drug lab?”
J.J. loomed over me. “Are you telling me that Mag was at the Graff’s place with you? Are you out of your frigging mind? She could have been killed, Buzz; then where would you be?”
He whirled on Ian. “And you! You’re supposed to be a professional! Where in that fancy FBI handbook does it say it’s okay to take a Biology teacher on a shootout with some very bad men?” He threw up his hands and stalked toward his desk. He collapsed in his chair and rubbed his hand back and forth across his brow. “Wait. Hold on a minute. We’ll deal with this later. I need Montoya’s story right now.”
He glared at me. “I’ll just add this to my list of grievances for tomorrow’s pow-wow.”
He crossed his arms and spun his chair so he faced the window. One could almost see the green smoke coming out of his ears. Ian stood and made as if he were going to confront him. I grabbed his arm, shook my head and mouthed, ‘later’. We all turned at the sound of the door knob rattling.
Mag reentered the room, oblivious to the tirade that had just occurred. Alejandro followed behind her, and took his seat. Mag picked up the recorder, hesitated. She looked at the recorder and then held it out to J.J. “I’m sorry, J.J. I didn’t want to butt in, but Alejandro wanted to tell his story. I thought I would record it so he didn’t have to repeat it again.”
J.J. held up his hands. “No, Mag, that’s just fine. You started, you finish. You talk Alejandro through it and we’ll see if I have to have him explain further. I’ll be right here if you get stuck.”
Mag shrugged her shoulders and grinned sheepishly. She turned on the recorder and set it on the table near Alejandro. She took a deep breath.
“Mr. Montoya, your last statement before we took a break was,” she consulted the paper in front of her, ‘And then I ran out of the tack room and saw blood all over the stall’.
Alejandro looked at her with tears in his eyes. She put a calming hand on his arm and said, “Take your time, Alejandro. This must be very painful for you.”
He nodded and drew in a shaky breath. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Yes, I ran out of the tack room and saw my Princesa thrashing in the stall, screaming in agony.”
He continued his grisly tale. For the next two hours, we sat transfixed by the gruesome and shocking events that eventually led him to Sal’s diner and the meeting with J.J. His voice died with the last of his narrative. His look touched each of us as the silence in the room lingered.
Ian was the first to comment. “Wow. Drugs inside the mares. Does that not beat all?”
I was beside myself. “Those rotten, no good rat-bastards! Can you imagine what would happen to those poor horses if one of those bricks came open…OH MY GOD!”
They all stared at me. One by one it hit each of them. Alejandro sat for a second with a stricken look on his face. He jumped up out of his chair and shouted as he streaked toward the door, “I need my cell phone! Oh my God! I have to call Texas!” He ran to his truck and ripped the cell phone out of its charger. He frantically searched his address book and punched Donny Ray’s number. He reached the voice mailbox, and near hysteria, left a message. “Donny Ray, Montoya here. Check that sample for drugs. Illegal drugs! I know that is what killed the mare, and that is why they stole the body before you could autopsy! Call me as soon as you can, and be careful. If they find out you know, I think they will come for you.” He also read J.J.‘s number off the business card he had taken from the lobby. He flipped the phone shut and slumped against the truck door.
J.J. put an arm around his shoulders and steered him back to his office. He sat silently in the chair and stared straight ahead. We were all silent, trying to put it all into perspective.
J.J.‘s voice was like cannon fire in the stillness of the room. “Well, that about wraps it up for now, folks. It’s getting on toward afternoon and we should call it quits for today. Alejandro, what kind of plans did you have for the next few days?”
Alejandro started and looked thoughtful. “Actually, I was hoping to stay around a while. I had thoughts of looking for a new job if I liked it here, and I do. I certainly cannot go home.”
J.J. nodded and picked up the phone. He asked Alejandro, “You’re staying over at Journey’s End Bed and Breakfast, right?” At Alejandro’s nod, J.J. finished dialing. “Hi, Cheryl? Yeah, it’s J.J. Listen, One of your guests is staying on for a few more days. Send his bill for the week to the Sheriff’s Department, okay? Yeah, he’s working with me on something through the end of the week. Uh-huh, Montoya, Alejan…Yep, you got it, and thanks, Cheryl. Talk to you later–what?” He turned his back to us and spoke in a quiet voice. “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so. Saturday? I’ll see if I can make it, uh, okay, you too. Bye now.”
He hung up the phone and Alejandro spoke right away. “Sheriff Green, you don’t have to pay my bills. I have money and credit cards. I’m okay–really.”
J.J. interrupted him. “Look, as long as you’re here working with me, I’ll pick up the tab on the room. We still have a lot of work to do on this. Number One priority is to try to get ahold of that boss of yours–Martinez. Next, we retrieve the horse trailer from the airport. We can probably park it out at Miller’s farm.” He grinned at me, “That will give your mom something else to lord over her friends.”
Mag jumped on her cell phone and called Mom. She nodded and waved that it was okay to J.J., and continued talking.
J.J. pressed the intercom on his desk. “Edie? Find Tom, Dick, and Harry. Get them in here pronto.”
“Right away, Sheriff Green,” came the disembodied voice of Edie, the dispatcher.
Ian raised a brow and looked at Mag and me. I whispered, “You know, the guys we call Moe, Larry, and Curly. Remember, at my place? I don’t know their real names. Everyone calls them something different.”
“Oh, uh, right. I wonder what J.J. wants with those guys?” Ian whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Oh, never mind.” Speaking louder, he said, “Hey, I need to call this latest development into Milwaukee. I don’t want to call Texas until I know who the good guys are in this play. J.J., what do you think? I’ll leave it your decision, but I have to let my superiors in on this.”
J.J. scratched his head. “I guess you have a point. The only guy we can trust down there right now is a country veterinarian. We need to make sure he’s protected, so we gotta trust somebody down there. I’ll work on it.”
Just then, the three deputies stumbled through the door. “There you are.” J.J. said. “There’s a change of assignments this afternoon. You,” he pointed at Moe, “go with Montoya up to Mitchell field. He has a horse trailer parked in long term. Pay the bill, then take the trailer over to Miller’s, and park it behind the barn out of the way.
“You,” pointing to Curly, “you get the evidence collection kit and meet me back here in 20 minutes.
“And you” pointing to Larry, “are on patrol. Go fetch Squad Two and gas it up. I’ll be at Graff’s if you need backup.”
He turned to me and his phone rang. He flipped it open. “Sheriff Green. Yes? He did? Thank you, I’ll be right
down.” He slapped the phone closed and narrowed his eyes in our direction. “Change of plans, everyone. That was the hospital. Rob is coming around and I need to be there when he wakes up. I’ll have to take a rain check on Chez Buzz.” He poked me in the chest. “But you and I are going to talk. Tomorrow. Got it?”
I rubbed my sternum. “Uh, yeah, got it, Chief.”
J.J. turned once again to Curly. “Forget the evidence kit for now. I need you at the hospital. They’re moving Rob out of ICU, and I am going to put you on the door. I want you to stand watch and not let anyone in that room. Questions? Good. Let’s get at it.” He chucked my chin as he swept past. We all breathed a little easier.
Ian broke the silence. “Well, why don’t we get going? I want to try to beat rush hour traffic.” He consulted his watch. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to at this point, but I need to get on the road. Is that okay with you and Mag?”
We nodded like a couple of dumb sheep and followed him out the door.
19
The drive back to Mag’s was quick and uneventful. Over coffee, we compiled the notes and transferred them to the whiteboard. I uploaded the pictures onto Mag’s computer and made prints to add to our report on the evening’s events.
I also tried to come up with a believable story to tell J.J. There seemed to be no good way to tell him we planned and executed an illegal break-in, killed two guys, injured a third, and ran off before the cops could question us. I expected warrants would be issued for us by morning.
Nothing seemed to bother Ian as he went through the backpacks and retrieved all the materials we took from the greenhouses. We sat on the living room floor and separated each item by type.
Mag dug in her bag and produced a Ziploc which held a small metal tin with some sort of gook in it. Ian grabbed it from her. “Mag, is this what I think it is?”
She stuck her nose in the air. “If you think I grabbed it from the drug room, you’d be right! I scraped a couple more things too. In all the chaos, I didn’t think anyone would miss them.”
Ian looked perplexed. “Scraped?”
Mag laughed. “Lifted, took, absconded with, stole, pinched, copped, pilfered, filched, appropriated. What term do you prefer?”
Ian sighed. “I got it. Scraped. Geez, leave it to the school teacher. Here–let me have them.”
I sighed. Better add stealing evidence and obstruction to our crimes. Ian was elated. He looked like a kid with his first Tonka truck. He grabbed the bags from Mag and took off for the kitchen. He poked and prodded, held them up to the light and shook them up. He ripped open his backpack and pulled out a hygiene travel bag. I was about to make a smart comment when he unzipped it and pulled out several glass bottles and a few vials. He set everything out on the breakfast bar.
I mentally took a step back.
“Ian, do you carry drug testing kits around with you?”
He didn’t say a word but grinned like Wesley with a T-bone, held up a little test tube and twiddled it at us. He laid out the bottles in order and like a mad scientist, began testing. So totally absorbed in his task was he that he never heard Mag and me discuss tomorrow’s strategy while we put out the leftovers. He suddenly looked up from the table and held up a vial.
“Eureka!”
Mag and I both jumped. Mag took the vial (which had turned blue) from him, looked at it and shoved it back at him. “Eureka? Eureka what? So you were able to confirm that I snagged drugs from a drug lab. Whoopee, Ian. Wesley could have told us that. How is this significant to Carole and the investigation? Do you think she was murdered with drugs or because of them?”
Ian stuffed all his testing paraphernalia back in the travel bag. “Even not knowing her, I would guess because of.” He closed up the plastic bags and labeled them. Mag brought him a box and he packed everything away carefully. He talked while he worked.
“It might pertain and it might not. Either way I have got to get this stuff to a lab where I can work on it. I don’t want to get into it right now, but this may be related to more than just the garden center murder.
“I’ll see if I can get this connected up to a drug trafficking route we’ve been working on. I can also find out if they are dealing straight cocaine and heroin, or if this lab was making designer drugs. The guys at the M. B. Lab can find out every ingredient in this stuff. It’s really quite amazing.”
He must have interpreted our perplexed expressions correctly. He might as well have been speaking in a foreign language. He wrote furiously on a notepad.
“I’m leaving you the office number, my work cell, and my personal cell numbers. If anything happens while I’m gone, call me. I’m also leaving my mother’s number in case I get that far. I called her around 1:30 this morning and told her I wasn’t coming in. I’ll be back as soon as I can, probably as early as tomorrow night. The office can call me, or fax the results here.
“I’m sure J.J. will help us out with that.”
I stopped listening after he told us he called his mother. “You called your mom at 1:30 in the morning? Mine would have been yelling for 911!”
“Yeah, along about now, at daybreak she would have started worrying.” He zipped his bag shut and looked from Mag to me. He rubbed his hands together and smiled. “Now all I need is a ride back to my car and I’m off.”
I got up and dumped my coffee cup in the sink. “I got you covered. I have to go home anyway and it’s on the way. Wes, Hill, let’s go.” The dogs clambered out the front door. I turned to Mag.
“Oh, and Mag? You’re hired again. Nice work.”
“Thanks, Buzz. Some vacation, huh?”
“Yeah, some vacation. See ya in the morning.”
“Night, Buzz.”
“Night, Maggot.”
By the time I got the dogs settled, Ian was ready to go.
“I appreciate what you guys did tonight,” he said. “You’re good, Buzz. You can be my partner any time.”
“Thanks, Ian.” I rubbed my hip. “I’ll sure be a hurting unit tomorrow! I’m really worried about Mag, though. She flew by the seat of her pants tonight and got lucky. I don’t want her to start getting all cocky and thinking it goes down this easy all the time. I don’t want her hurt or, Heaven forbid, killed.”
Ian chuckled. “I don’t think she’s going to run off and join the police force or anything, Buzz, so don’t worry. I’ll see what the lab boys can find out and I’ll give you a call later on today.”
“It’s a deal, partner.” I was about to back out of the driveway when Mag yanked the back door open. I slammed on the brakes and the dogs and Ian flew forward.
“What the hell?”
Mag grinned and held up a Thermos. “I’m going to Milwaukee. Uh, Ian might fall asleep and needs someone to keep him awake. I can also help him with the plants. I can be a very useful mammal when I want to be.”
I looked at Ian, who was looking at Mag. I noticed both wore big sloppy grins on their faces. I sighed.
“Get in, Mag.” She flew through the door. She nudged Wesley over, but he just grunted and pushed back. Mag happily rode across town sandwiched against the car door by a big hairy butt.
I pulled into the morgue parking lot. Ian opened the rear door and Mag exploded out into the parking lot–ass over tea kettle.
Wesley’s butt hung out of the car, his fluffy tail waving slowly back and forth. We got everything transferred to the Beemer. Ian turned and stuck out his hand. I shook it. He said, “Later, Buzz. Get some sleep.”
“You too, Plant Boy. Be careful driving.”
Ian laughed. “Thanks, Buzz. Mag brought along some of that truck driver coffee she made. Milwaukee’s only a 40 minute drive, but I’ll probably be good until noon.” He checked his watch. “Damn, got to get going, rush hour is coming on fast.” They jumped in the Beemer, both waving as he took off down the empty street.
I walked back to my car. Wes had jumped into the driver’s seat and was grinning and panting like he was driving home. I wedged my butt in next t
o his and heaved him over far enough to reach the ignition. I rubbed his ears and sighed. He let out a big doggy sigh and flopped down. Tail waving, he leaned into my hand and grinned.
“Come on, kids, let’s go home.” Even Hilary grinned at that.
20
Ian sped toward Milwaukee thinking of the connections to a case the FBI had been working on for almost a year. If he could connect the seeds to the ones Jeff Fuller from the Molecular Biology Lab had traced from Mexico across the southern states, they could work on how the drugs jumped from the south, to the northern Midwest. There was no trail leading north, yet the drugs had turned up in Chicago and Milwaukee, then Portage, La Crosse, and Minneapolis, on up through Duluth into Canada.
Mag stretched and yawned loudly. “You’re very quiet Ian. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He glanced at her. “If these seeds and the cocaine connect up to another case we’re working on, we’ll have a new connection on where the drugs are going. We need to find out how the heck the drugs jumped from the south to the north, without traces of them in between. Right now, they’re traced through Texas, Mobile, Atlanta, Charlotte, Philly, Buffalo, and into Canada, but nothing up this way. The Mexico connection is why I think they might be linked. I just can’t figure out how to connect the dots in between.”
“Ian, didn’t Alejandro talk about the men pulling the bricks out of the horses? Wouldn’t that make the connection?”
“I guess in all the confusion I never gave it a thought. Holy Cow Mag, do you think they could transport that much cocaine that way?”
“I suppose they could if they sent it pure and cut it up here.”
He blew out a breath. “Wow. At any rate, we’ll take the poppy plants we confiscated to the Molecular Biology boys. They can put them through what’s called amplified fragment length polymorphism, or AFLP. AFLP is based on polymerase chain reaction, or PCR, just like the RAPD test I explained to you and Buzz, but it’s more sensitive than RAPD and can tell us even more.”
