“Misty, I would really like to see that bathroom again,” Mack said. “I’m curious about the closet space …”
Misty nodded but seemed distracted by Kyle. Everyone was distracted by Kyle.
“Is he okay?” Misty whispered to Mack.
“He’s fine,” Jesse said. “I may be the bad blood, but you broke Mother’s heart when you started smoking. Don’t kid yourself. Look how your hands are trembling. We all know you’re trying to quit, but you just can’t do it, can you?” Jesse pulled out the pack of cigarettes he always carried with him on undercover jobs. A cigarette and a lighter could get you a long way. He offered one to Kyle.
“I, uh … I …”
“Mackenzie can handle the questions from here,” Jesse said, shoving the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into his hand. He wasn’t about to let Kyle ruin the exercise for them, and he wasn’t going back to Sergeant Yeager without a completed rental form. “Stop acting like you don’t want this. Go outside and get it out of your system. Can’t you see you’re making the women nervous?” Jesse smiled again at Misty, mostly for the effect and to get her attention away from the startled expression on Kyle’s face. Misty’s body language told Jesse that she was about ready to ask them all to leave.
“Misty, I want to thank you for the wonderful tour you’ve given us. I will be sure to tell my uncle.” Mack said suddenly.
The word “uncle” snapped Misty back into focus. “You’re quite welcome,” she said, her eyes shiny with the prospect of who this uncle might be and what this uncle might do for her real estate career. “Let me show you how many shoes can fit in that closet.”
Mackenzie followed Misty out of sight and Jesse grabbed Kyle by the shirt, shoving him into the hallway. He punched the Down button on the elevator. Kyle was about to open his mouth.
“Shut up,” Jesse said. “Don’t say anything. Just go downstairs and stand outside and wait for us. Do you hear me?”
“But—”
“But nothing. I don’t want to hear it. You nearly blew it in there. What if, instead of a cute girl, you were facing a thug with a gun who is high on meth?”
“I’m so sorry. I really—”
“Go have a smoke.” The elevators arrived.
“I don’t smoke,” Kyle said, looking down at the cigarette.
“Maybe you should.”
“You really want me to smoke?”
Jesse sighed loudly, reached into the elevator, and punched the first-floor button. “Kyle, just go down and do whatever it is you do to calm yourself when you’re on edge, okay?”
As the doors closed he heard Kyle say, “I eat ham sandwiches.”
Chapter 18
Bologna. No mayo, extra mustard.” Mason shelled out the money and waited for his name to be called. As he stared out the deli window, he thought about Brandi. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to sell every ounce of his blood for a ticket out of jail. He’d never trusted her. He didn’t really trust anyone. But he missed her. He regretted planting the money and drugs on her. He didn’t mean to get her in trouble. He merely meant to hide the money in her purse and make an excuse for why he didn’t have all of it. He didn’t like to give all the money up front. Sometimes the smaller dealers wouldn’t even come back for the rest. He’d read that guy wrong. Really wrong.
His name rang out in the small shop. “Mason …” He picked up his sandwich and walked outside to an umbrella-covered table. He unwrapped his sandwich and scarfed it down, which killed about three minutes. Rhyne was still up in the high rise, undoubtedly thinking he was some kind of big shot, leaving Mason with nothing better to do than figure out how to get a bigger cut of the pot of gold Rhyne had been lucky enough to discover.
He leaned back and tried to relax. Next to him a man fiddled with a packet of mayo, trying to tear it open with his fingers for a good minute before giving up and using his teeth. He squirted the mayo on the sandwich, then stared at it for a moment. Mason watched with amusement as the man got up, went back inside for a plastic knife, then returned to his sandwich.
What an idiot, Mason thought. Who leaves a sandwich unattended? He could’ve snatched it in a heartbeat. He sure wouldn’t have left his sandwich just to get a knife. He would’ve spread the mayo with the packet. Or his fingers. The man smiled and said hello as he sat down. Mason hated that. There was no reason to talk to somebody you didn’t know. Unless you wanted something from them. And he did … a cigarette.
“Nice weather today,” Mason said out loud, maybe to himself, maybe not. If the man responded, Mason would have his cigarette in no time. If he didn’t, then he’d—
“Yes, it is. Sometimes it’s a blessing, you know? Things can be going badly, but the warmth of the sunshine, a breeze in the air … it just settles things, puts things into perspective.” He looked down at his sandwich. “But there’s a lot to be said for a good ham sandwich too.”
“Uh … right.” Mason was regretting starting this mess, and he wondered what additional “happy feelings” nonsense he would have to endure just to get a cigarette. But he did need a cigarette. And badly. “Hey, could I bum a smoke off you?” Mason asked, nodding to the package on the table.
The man looked confused, then glanced down at the table. “Oh … a cigarette. Um …”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t really need a fix. I’m having a bad day, and my bologna sandwich doesn’t seem to be working wonders like the ham.”
“Well, it is bad for your health.” Suddenly the man smiled and tossed him the package and lighter. Mason was never one for dry humor, but he could fake it for a cigarette.
“Thanks.” He shook one out of the pack.
“Take them all.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s a pay-it-forward kind of deal.”
“Right. Thanks.” Mason lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “You’re trying to quit, huh? I wish the sunshine would do more for my mood. My business partner thinks he’s smart, that he doesn’t need me. So I’m supposed to wait down here while he calls all the shots.” Mason shrugged. “What a jerk.”
“I’m kind of in the same boat.”
“Really?” Mason blew smoke. “What kind of business are you in?”
The man looked down. “I’m planning on opening an auto parts store. A body shop, I mean.”
Mason studied him. He definitely didn’t look like the kind of man who would be willing to pay for parts with no questions asked. But then again, if Mason could tap into a new body shop, maybe he could rake in more money. Sunshine might be on his side today after all.
“So … do you already have dealers? And do you have a source yet for … for things you couldn’t ordinarily get under usual business circumstances … ?”
The man leaned forward and engaged him with a grin. “Look, I don’t want to mislead you. I’m not really opening up a body shop, at least not in the conventional sense.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I’m not really portraying myself as who I really am. I’m playing a part. I’m not really that good.” He gestured to his slacks. “Take these, for instance. They don’t exactly match my persona.”
Mason finished his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot. “So you’re trying to make people think you’re someone you’re not.”
“I know, it sounds weird. I can’t really divulge details. But let’s just say it’s much easier to be who you are than try to be someone else. That’s why I’m down here eating a ham sandwich. I nearly blew it for my friends up there because I accidentally—” He looked at Mason. “Anyway, forget it. I’m not making any sense. It just amazes me what kind of paper trail you have to work around to do this stuff. ”
“No, man, I’m tracking with you. My business partner is always thinking about himself. He’s got a huge ego. He thinks he can do bigger and better. But there is money to be made right here and now, if you know where to look.” He tried a smile. “Like with you, for instance. Maybe we can work out a deal.”
&
nbsp; “A deal?”
“Sure. You’re in this for the money, right?”
“Uh …”
“Look, there’s no pressure here, okay? But there’s also nothing wrong with working things to our advantage. I bring the goods to you, you pay less than what you’d pay wholesale, you sell it at top price, we nix the paper trail, and we’re both winners.” Mason reached into his pocket for a pen and scratched down a phone number on a napkin. “Think it over. We can keep this between us. Nobody else has to know. Believe me, the fewer people involved, the better.” He handed him the napkin. “What’s your name?”
The man didn’t answer. Mason smiled. This guy was for real.
“Call me when you’re ready to do business. Keep this number to yourself. And keep up that clean-cut image too. It works for you. Maybe I’ll give it a try.” Mason laughed and held up the cigarettes. “Good luck turning over that new leaf.”
“Can I come in?” Ron asked. Captain Gates looked up and waved him in.
“How’s the training?”
“Good so far.”
Laura set aside what she was working on. “You’re keeping a good pace, I hope. I want well-trained officers, but we don’t have much time.”
“They’ll be ready. We’re still setting up the body shop.”
She sighed. “I miss the streets. I miss that adrenaline rush. That’s what kept me invigorated.”
It’s what kept him alive all those years. “Captain, I have to say, you don’t really seem like the kind of person who would enjoy working in property crimes. Not that there’s anything wrong with it—”
“Don’t even get me started,” Laura said, waving her hand. “Dad probably would have handpicked this job for me. But I wanted to work narcotics.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“Why aren’t you?”
“I’m too old.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m too female.” She folded her hands together. “Sergeant, let me ask you a question.”
“Sure.”
“Let’s say you get a domestic call. Neighbors heard screaming next door. On your way to the scene, you get word that the offender is an officer. When you arrive, police are there, an ambulance is loading a woman covered in blood. She looks about five or six months pregnant. Once inside, you find the husband, and he’s the brother of your former partner.” Ron watched the scene play out in her eyes. “He’s sitting in a chair, crying. You call for the watch commander and a domestic violence detective. You’re trying to find out what happened from this guy, and then over your radio, you get word that the baby has died and the mother is in critical condition.”
“Okay.”
“The guy asks you to call his brother. His brother turns out to be your former partner. You make the call and tell him what happened. Your former partner arrives at the scene about ten minutes later, and the two men ask you for permission to go to the hospital to see the woman.” Captain Gates paused. “So, Sergeant Yeager, what would you do?”
Ron thought the scenario through, trying to understand what she was getting at.
Then she laughed like its importance had just diminished. “Forget it.” She leaned forward. “What can I do for you?”
“Um … okay, just wanted to give you an update. The National Insurance Crime Bureau has agreed to loan us two people who have experience in collision repair. They’ll work perfectly as court witnesses too, since they know what they’re talking about with the cars. Also, Auto Insurance Group of America has agreed to supply the heavy equipment we need. I just need your signature so we can move the paperwork through quickly.” He handed the folder to Laura and watched her sign.
“What do you have your gang doing today?”
“Taking their UC identities out for a little walk.”
Laura shook her head and handed the folder back to Ron. “You’ve got some wacky ideas, Sergeant Yeager.”
“It’s a wacky world out there.”
“All right. Let’s get this stuff pushed through. We can’t lose an hour on it. The Title 3 paperwork is ready, right?”
“Yes. I’ll keep you updated.” Ron wondered if he should bring his concerns to the table. He hadn’t been able to let them go. When his gut did the talking, it meant one of two things: either he was going to get himself into a lot of trouble, or he was about to find a big piece of the puzzle that could turn an investigation around. He called this gut feeling his Second Wife. She nagged twice as much and was worthless in the kitchen, but she had a gift for seeing through bull. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
“Yes?”
“I was going over the reports you gave me. I was wondering why some of the files were pulled.”
“What makes you think files were pulled?”
“A good detective doesn’t rely on other people’s research. I wanted to review all the stolen vehicle reports linked to this investigation, and I noticed there were several missing.”
“I pulled the ones that seemed irrelevant. Remember, we’re on a time restraint.”
“Do you have them?”
She went to a file cabinet and took a stack off the top. “Here. I can’t imagine what you’d want them for.”
Ron sat down and opened them up.
“Just what are you looking for?”
“As you know, cars are stolen for four reasons.” Ron said, holding up four fingers. “One, they’re stolen and shipped internationally. Those are mostly exotic or high-end cars, sometimes muscle cars from the sixties. Two, they’re stolen by desperate people who need transportation. The recovery rate for those is about 80 percent.”
Laura interrupted him. “We’ve really lowered the crime rate for that. Since we started handing out bus tokens, we’ve seen a 45 percent drop. Uh, sorry.” She smiled. “I forget I don’t have to keep selling the idea that those tokens work.”
“Three, they’re stolen by kids looking for a joyride. These usually end up trashed. Four, and probably most commonly, they’re stolen for profit. They’re stripped for parts.”
“Exactly. Which is why we set up the body shop.”
Ron pointed to the folders. “But these don’t fit the norm. Minivans and a station wagon?”
“There are always exceptions.”
“These aren’t stripped. They’re not vandalized. And they’ve all been recovered—completely intact—within a few days.”
Gates folded her arms. “So this is what you’re going to focus on? Recovered vehicles?” Then she held up her hands. “I trust you, Sergeant. If you think you need to look into these, then look into them. Now, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Ron turned to leave the office, but his Second Wife nagged at him. “Captain, I have to ask … what did you do?”
“What are you talking about?”
“With your partner’s brother. What did you do?”
A thin smile spread over her lips. “The same thing you did, Sergeant.”
“I didn’t really have a chance to think about it.”
“Neither did I.”
“You have to make split-second decisions sometimes. You do the best you can.”
“Yeah? Tell that to the narcotics guys.”
Misty held out a hand and said, “Thank you, Mackenzie. It was very nice to meet you. I’ll be in touch in a few days. Here’s your copy of the paperwork.”
Jesse stood in the corner like a snotty teenager and watched as they shook hands. Outwardly, he looked like he couldn’t care less, but inside he was breathing a deep sigh of relief.
Mack said, “All right, Tony. Let’s go.”
Jesse trailed behind her out of Misty’s office. Then he heard, “Tony.”
Both he and Mack turned. “Yeah?”
Misty held out her hand for him to shake. It threw him for a moment. But when he looked at her, she was smiling cordially. Maybe she was worried about impressing “the uncle.” What would Tony do? He wasn’t used to dealing with upper-class types.
He stretched a m
enacing grin across his face. “So I finally won you over. Maybe next time you can show me your apartment.”
She kept an even expression. “Take care, Tony.” She cupped his hand with both of hers, then turned back to her desk. Jesse walked into the lobby and opened up his right hand. Inside was a folded piece of paper.
“What’s that?” Mack asked.
Jesse unfolded it.
“I scored her phone number.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Too bad she had to meet Tony instead of me. Although Tony does have a way with women.”
“Why would a woman be attracted to that?” She gestured toward him.
“What’s not to like?”
“This is why I don’t even try the dating scene anymore.”
“You date?”
“No.”
“You just don’t seem the dating type.”
“I’m not. Aren’t you listening to me?”
Jesse held up his hands. “All right, settle down. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”
“We need to find Kyle,” she said through clenched teeth.
Jesse pointed across the street. “There are some shops over there. Maybe he’s—”
Mack was five steps ahead of him. She walked—no, stomped—across the street. Jesse hustled to catch up with her. “You know, Mack, you did a really good job in there.”
She stayed quiet but seemed interested in what he had to say.
“That was no easy task, but it was good practice. You’ve got to be able to think quickly on your feet. You did that. We really pulled it off. At least you and I did. Kyle, well, that’s another story.”
“He just had one bad moment.”
“Why are you always defending him? I’ve never seen such a disaster.”
“Sergeant Yeager must see something you and I don’t.”
“Right. Maybe Kyle has superpowers.”
“You’re a really cynical guy, you know that? Everyone has to live with evil in the world. We have to deal with bad people on a daily basis, but at least we’re trying to do something about it.”
Snitch Page 13
