Wolfman is Back

by Dwayne Clayden

  Brad stared at the body. Big guy, dressed in jeans and a tight T-shirt. Long hair tied back. His face was bloated, like a basketball. Brad moved as close as he dared. “Shit.”

  “What?” Devlin asked.

  “That’s one of Pickens’ bodyguards.”

  “Are you sure?” Devlin asked. “Hard to tell from here.”

  “I know. I saw him earlier today with Pickens. Let’s check the other guy.”

  At the next power pole they had a cruiser pull close and use the spotlight.

  “That’s the driver,” Brad said. “I’m sure.”

  “Well damn. Wolfe’s work?”

  “I’d bet on it.”

  Saturday Morning

  They waited until Griffin and Ident had investigated the scene. Sturgeon walked over. “You boys are keepin’ me busy. I wouldn’t mind a night off.”

  “They’re Hells Angels,” Brad said. “Any identification on them?”

  “No wallets, no credit cards, or driver’s licenses,” Sturgeon said. “They both have large tattoos on their backs, Gypsy Jokers. Hells Angels tattoo on their shoulders. Someone was pissed with them.”

  “You think?” Devlin said.

  “I don’t know where to start. You could probably see from here that their arms and legs were broken. The probable cause of death was a thin wire. They were both garroted.”

  “Shit.” Brad swallowed hard. “How’d they get here?”

  “There’s only one set of tracks to and from each pole, and drag marks. They were dead before they were nailed to the posts.”

  “One guy,” Devlin said. “Those are two big suckers.”

  “Yup,” Sturgeon said. “It would need to be someone bigger than them.”

  “Jeter Wolfe” Brad said.

  “A couple more things.” Sturgeon turned to them. “They were castrated and their tongues were cut out—before they were killed.”

  “Ah, jeez,” Brad said.

  “And the tongues are missing.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Sunday Noon

  It was noon when Brad met Griffin outside a house.

  “What’s up?”

  “Call came in as a check on the welfare of the occupant,” Griffin said. “First cops on scene met a lady who said she was a friend of the occupant, Linda. Linda missed two shifts of work, which was unusual for her. Linda’s friend called a bunch of times and no one answered. So, she came here today, but no one answered the door either.”

  Brad shrugged. “We do dozens of those calls.”

  “First responding cops found the front door locked and no one responded. They walked around and looked in the windows. Then they saw that the back door was broken with shattered glass. When they pushed the door open a foul odor wafted out. They called for backup, then stepped into the house. As their eyes adjusted, they saw dried blood on the floor. Then they saw a body in the bedroom doorway—obviously dead. They backed out and called me. Sturgeon is inside with his techs.”

  “What do we know about her?” Brad asked.

  “She works at a little bar on Seventeenth. She has always been a regular worker. She’s late twenties, long brown hair. Might have been pretty in a hardened way.”

  “Are you thinking it was Wolfe?” Brad asked.

  Griffin shrugged. “Too early to tell, but I’m suspicious of everything that happens out here. As far as I can tell, there was a big struggle in the kitchen. That’s where the blood is, a lot of blood.”

  “From Linda?” Brad asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Griffin said. “She’s ten feet from the kitchen and there’s no trail of blood between her and the blood in the kitchen.”

  “Two separate events?” Brad asked.

  “That’s the way I see it. Two days ago we found two of Pickens’ thugs beaten to a pulp and missing tongues. Tongues that were cut out while they were alive. That would leave a lot of blood.”

  Brad nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “Is this where Wolfe has been hiding?” Griffin asked. “Did he shack up with Linda? Pickens’ guys find him, they shoot Linda and Wolfe goes berserk?”

  “That’s a good timeline,” Brad said. “Most of that fits. What’s bugging me is Linda.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s got brown hair and she’s older,” Brad said. “As far as we can tell, she hasn’t been abused in any way.”

  “She was shot,” Griffin said.

  “Sure, but I don’t think that was Wolfe. That was Pickens’ goons.”

  Griffin nodded. “You’re right. He’s been consistent in his targets. This was a pure and simple hookup. Maybe he’s had a bunch of hookups. If he didn’t rape or beat them, we’d never know. Maybe he’s been with her for weeks. Knows her from before he went to prison. They got reacquainted when he escaped.”

  “That’s a lot of guessing,” Brad said. “It’s hard for me to accept that Wolfe has a normal side. Have you talked to Linda’s friend?”

  “Not yet. I was waiting for you. She’s over at that cruiser.”

  “Well, let’s talk to her.” Brad approached the woman standing with a uniformed cop by the cruiser. “I’m Detective Coulter. This is Detective Griffin. What’s your name?”

  “Alice.”

  “Last name, Alice?”

  “Alice Leggett. Am I in trouble?”

  Brad shook his head. “Not at all. We have a few questions for you.”

  “Okay.” She chewed on a fingernail.

  “How do you know Linda?”

  “We work together.”

  “How long have you worked together?”

  “About two years.”

  “Are you friends?”

  “No—well, kinda, I guess.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We hung out sometimes. Not like we went shopping or got our nails done together, but sometimes after work we’d go to a better bar for a drink or two and look for guys.”

  “Did she have a boyfriend?”

  “No. She’d hang out with a guy for a week or two, then she’d dump him.”

  “Did any of the guys get mad? Did they threaten her?”

  “Nah. They just chased another skirt.”

  “Has she been friends with any guys lately?”

  “Yeah. A couple of nights ago she was chatting up this big guy.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “No, I don’t think she told me. She just said they were going out for drinks after work.”

  Brad felt his heart racing. “This big guy, did he have long dark hair and beard?”

  “No,” Alice said. “He was completely shaven, hair and face. Linda said he looked like a big bowling ball.”

  Brad’s heart sank. “Did you see the TV press conference about the guy we’re looking for, Jeter Wolfe?”

  Alice nodded. “Oh, yeah. He was a mean-looking fuc … monster. Oh, I see, you think Linda was with him. No. Her guy was a lot different. His name wasn’t Jeter. It might have been Jim.”

  Deflated, Brad looked to Griffin, who shook his head.

  “Alice, did you give your name, address and phone number to the officer?”

  She nodded.

  Brad turned to the officer. “Be sure it is in your report and send me a copy.” He turned back to Alice. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  Alice shrugged, but Brad could see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Sunday Night

  That night the task team drove around the southeast looking for Wolfe. They hit every dive bar, massage and tattoo parlor, and cruised the alleys. Devlin had talked to hundreds of dealers.

  Just after midnight, Brad, Griffin, and Devlin met with Tina for a coffee. As Brad looked around the table, he saw exhaustion, defeat. They’d been working twenty-hour days without any success. He’d barely been home in the last four days, and then only to catch four hours of sleep before hitting the streets again. Even strong coffee couldn’t keep him focus
ed. He was sure the others were the same.

  “You guys look like crap,” Tina said.

  “And you think you’re ready for a fancy ball?” Griffin asked. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  Devlin sniffed. “You all smell bad.”

  “That’s funny coming from you,” Brad said. “You ever wash those clothes?”

  “Not since I bought them at a thrift store.”

  “When was that?” Tina asked.

  “About ten years ago,” Devlin said.

  “That would be funny if I wasn’t so tired.” Brad sighed. “This was a waste of a night.”

  “Not completely,” Devlin said. “A bunch of dealers I talked to are real happy. A week ago a big dude sold hospital-grade drugs to them. They’re making a fortune demanding a high price for the real stuff. They bought more off him Thursday, but haven’t seen him since.”

  “Wolfe?” Brad asked. “The hospital drugs he stole.”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Look, we’re all exhausted and no good to anyone,” Brad said. “If Wolfe walked in here right now, we likely wouldn’t recognize him. I say we pack it in for the night. Sleep in late and we can be back here in the late afternoon and keep looking.”

  “I’m all for that,” Griffin agreed.

  “It’s still early,” Tina said. “Maybe a couple more hours.”

  “No, Tina. I’m bagged,” Brad said. “See you tomorrow.”

  “One more hour?”

  “Sure,” Devlin said. “Let the pretty boy go home and get his beauty sleep.”

  “Thank you,” Griffin said.

  “Not you, asshole. I meant Coulter.”

  “Now I’m hurt,” Griffin said. “I’m outta here.”

  “Let’s go, Tina,” Devlin said. “I’m good for a few more hours.”

  Pickens was working late in his office. Hells Angels National wanted a report on his business and they wanted it tomorrow. On the good side, they were doing well, very well. National would be happy with that. On the negative, the cops were making things difficult in their hunt for Wolfe. He dropped his pen, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes. The cops would do more and more raids and hassle dealers and hookers until they found Wolfe. That was not good for business and next month’s report would not make National happy.

  A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Pickens rocked forward. “Come.”

  A young biker whose name he didn’t remember came in. “Sorry to bother you, boss, but this package was at the front door. It’s addressed to you and marked urgent.”

  Pickens sighed and reached for the package. It was smaller than a shoebox and light. “All right, thanks. You can leave.”

  Pickens placed the box on his desk. It was addressed to him, but there was no return address or postage. Curious—and suspicious.

  He carefully examined the packaging. On the outside he found nothing amiss.

  Cutting the tape on the brown paper wrapping, Pickens slid it away. Still nothing.

  He sliced the tape holding the lid in place and slowly lifted the top.

  A putrid odor escaped. Gagging, he put the lid aside and peered into the box.

  Set in a bed of tissue were two chunks of brown, rotting meat.

  Pickens recoiled and his stomach rolled. After a few deep breaths he dared look in the box again. He’d seen this before—a message about traitors—their tongues.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Tina and Devlin drove around for an hour. They saw fewer and fewer people on the streets. “Even the bad guys are asleep,” Devlin said.

  “Are you bailing on me?” Tina asked.

  “Not yet, but soon. It looks like Brad is taking to this detective gig.”

  Tina stared ahead and nodded. “He does what he likes and gives it his all.”

  “True, he took to TSU. That first team was excellent.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Nah. It was fun, but narcotics is my thing.” Devlin shifted in his seat so he was facing Tina. “I hear you and Zerr have been on a few dates.”

  Tina swung her head to Devlin. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I wasn’t sure, but you just confirmed it.”

  “Ass.”

  “So, how’s it going?”

  “What’s with the personal questions?”

  Devlin grinned. “You’re the one who wanted a partner for tonight, so I’m getting to know my partner.”

  Tina drove in silence, then said, “It’s early, but we get along. We’re both kinda feeling this out. Cops dating cops or cops marrying cops seldom ends well.”

  “Wow! You’ve talked about marriage!”

  “That’s not what I said! We aren’t rushing into anything.”

  “But?”

  Tina turned to Devlin and smiled. “But it’s going great. He’s hard to read. Most cops don’t do emotion well. Add into that his military experiences and it’s even worse. But I’m breaking down a few walls.”

  “That’s awesome. He truly is a great guy. He’s very dependable and honest.” Devlin’s head jerked to the side. “Stop here.”

  Tina stopped at the curb. Devlin rolled his window down and waved a woman over.

  She leaned on the roof of the car and looked in. “You lookin’ for some company—” She leaned in, saw Tina, then looked back at Devlin. “Ah, shit. Cops.”

  “We don’t want you,” Devlin said. “I need you to look at a photo. Tell me if you’ve seen this guy.”

  “You ain’t gonna arrest me?”

  “Nope.” Devlin passed Wolfe’s picture to her.

  She turned the picture toward the streetlight. “Yeah, I seen this guy around. I seen him late at night selling drugs to dealers. The dealers tell me it’s good shit. Real shit, like from a pharmacy.”

  “When did you last see him?” Devlin asked.

  “Maybe three days ago, I guess.”

  “Do you know where he lives? Or a bar he hangs out in?”

  “No clue where he’s stayin’. Can’t say about the bars. I’m mostly on the street.”

  Devlin nodded. “Thanks for your help. Stay safe.”

  The woman leaned into the car again. “I seen him a couple of times hanging out at the convenience store a half mile east. I think that’s where he meets the dealers.”

  Devlin grinned. “Thanks.”

  Tina pulled away from the curb, drove down the street, and pulled into the store’s parking lot. “Let’s see if the night clerk recognizes Wolfe.”

  “You go,” Devlin said. “I got the info. You confirm it.”

  “You lazy shit.”

  “I’ll wait here. Unless you get something really good, we’re calling it quits for the night. Nothing is happening out here.” Devlin slumped in the seat and closed his eyes, arm hanging out the window.

  “Fine.” Tina walked to the store.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Brad weaved around the southeast. He’d said he was beat, and he was, but he couldn’t bring himself to head home. He could barely keep his eyes open. Finally, he turned toward home. He was crossing Deerfoot Trail when the radio blared “Code 200, officer down. Seventeenth and Thirty-Sixth Street.”

  He swung his Firebird in a U-turn and sped across the city. The minutes passed. All he could do was listen to the radio and reports as cops arrived at the scene.

  The first crew on scene said they found one officer outside the car unconscious. He requested EMS.

  When Brad arrived, the scene was filled with police cars and an ambulance.

  He jumped out of his car, raced over to the ambulance and yanked open the back door. Paramedic Willie Dixon glared as Brad looked in. “A little busy in here, Coulter. Wait outside.”

  Brad’s eyes stared at Devlin, unconscious on the stretcher. “How is he?”

  “He took a nasty beating. He was unconscious when we arrived. We gotta get out of here and get him to the hospital. Come with us if you want, but we gotta go.”

  “I’
ll catch up to you later.” Brad jumped out of the ambulance and closed the door.

  He wandered over to a group of cops standing around the unmarked police car. “Who’s in charge?”

  A sergeant stepped away from the group. “I am.”

  “Briscoe. What happened?”

  “The owner of the store called it in. He said a cop was in his store showing him photos of a guy she was looking for. There was a scuffle outside. She told him to call 911 and say a cop is code 200. After the call, he looked out the window and saw a man on the ground beside the car. A big guy was fighting with the lady cop.”

  “Tina?” Brad’s gut rolled. He already knew the answer.

  “Yup. He tossed Davidson into a van through the sliding door. Then he went back and put the boots to Devlin. He jumped in the van and peeled out of here.”

  “Do you have a description of the van and a plate number?”

  “Yeah, not much to go on. He said it was a van with a sliding door and dark blue or dark gray. He wasn’t sure. The van left the parking lot and headed east. That’s all we’ve got so far. I put a BOLO out on the partial plate number. Got cops cruising around the area doing what we can.”

  “Was it a robbery?” Brad asked.

  “Not likely.”

  “Anything missing?” Brad asked.

  “Tina’s badge and radio. Devlin’s gun, too.”

  “Where’s Tina’s gun?” Brad asked.

  “I found it under the car on the driver’s side.”

  “Mind if I take a look around?”

  “It’s all yours.”

  Brad walked over to the open passenger’s door. Blood was spattered on the inside. Outside the car on the ground was the debris left behind by the paramedics. He wandered around to the driver’s side. This door was open as well. Tina’s purse was on the driver’s seat. He shone his flashlight in and waved it around. On the floor mat he saw lip gloss, tissue, keys, a brush and gum. He searched the rest of the car, but didn’t find a badge case, radio, or Devlin’s gun.

  A few feet away from the car he saw what remained of a pager—smashed.