Camels and Corpses

by G. K. Parks

  “Have you heard anything from Mark?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Okay,” the precinct was useless, “any leads on identifying the Camel? Have you gotten anything out of Claxton or Gregson?”

  O’Connell tossed a look at Martin. He wasn’t supposed to be discussing ongoing investigations in front of civilians, even if they were friends. Hell, he wasn’t supposed to be discussing them with me either, but that ship sailed a long time ago. “Not really.”

  “Take another run at them. If Riley needs to make a reappearance, I’m game, but in the meantime, I’ll check out my old stomping grounds and see where we are on finding the inspector.”

  “Be careful, Alex.” He nodded slightly. “And don’t forget your bodyguard.” He smirked. “Didn’t this start out in reverse?” I wasn’t in a playful mood, but Martin let out an amused snort. When Ryan was safe, then I’d chuckle.

  Nineteen

  “What the hell is this?” Mark growled. “And you,” he snarled at Martin, “if anyone could talk some sense into her, I thought it’d be you.”

  “Sorry,” he replied noncommittally, “she has a gun.” He pressed his hand against the small of my back and leaned in, whispering that he was going to get some coffee and wait in the car. “I’ll see ya around, Jabber.”

  We waited for the office door to close before speaking. “Any leads?” I asked.

  “Alex,” he slumped against the back of his chair, “this isn’t helping. You’re not even forty-eight hours sober yet, and you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Shit,” he sighed, “you’ve even dragged Marty into it. Who the hell are you and what have you done with the paranoid, overprotective, former federal agent I know?”

  I wasn’t in the mood for his rhetoric. “I haven’t dragged him into anything.” My words dripped venom. “And this is my business. Interpol asked for assistance on Donough’s case. I was supposed to have his back, and I didn’t.” I sighed, feeling the pain of failure and fearing the outcome. “Not to mention, you didn’t wake up on the floor with no recollection of how you got there and no goddamn idea who’s responsible. So don’t tell me this doesn’t concern me. Everything about this situation concerns me.”

  “They weren’t looking for you. They just wanted Donough. We’ve scrubbed the feeds from the time he left the OIO building. Apparently, he picked up a tail a few blocks from here. It was a dark colored Jeep with unmatched stolen plates. Two guys, based on build, but we never get a clear shot of their faces or any identifiers. Luckily, they probably thought he was on his way to visit his girlfriend, Alexandra Riley, and not planning a way to take down their operation.” He blew out a breath. “At least I did one thing right by sending you home early on Friday.”

  “Don’t.” My breathing was harsh. From Mark’s perspective, my well-being was more important than Ryan’s, and I adamantly disagreed.

  “DOT cams caught sight of two men exiting the Jeep and heading in the direction of your apartment a few minutes after you got into the cab. Twelve minutes later, the same men are carrying what appears to be a rolled up carpet, and they shoved it into the trunk. The footage is grainy and black and white, but it could have been Donough.”

  “Where’d they go?”

  “I don’t know. We lost them in traffic. We’re running facial rec and checking for reflections and better angles, but it doesn’t look promising.” He folded his hands and studied me. “There were no signs of a break-in at your apartment, so Donough must have let them in.” What if I left the door unlocked? Did I let them get the jump on him? “Parker,” his voice dragged me from my reverie, “there were no signs of a struggle either. The place was wiped, but Donough’s a decent-sized guy. Nothing was broken or damaged. The only blood we found was on your bathroom floor.” His eyes went to the butterfly bandages at my temple. “It wasn’t much, and it was yours. He would have fought. Plus, from the looks of things, they were only after him. They waited to get him alone.”

  “Chase Devereaux and Virgil Mallick,” I hissed. “Barlow’s guys. When we met with them on Thursday, it was a power play. Devereaux wants to take over. He must have taken Ryan.”

  “Parker,” his tone was authoritarian, “the drugs in the bottle are the same cocktail we believe the Camel uses.”

  “So let’s get complete profiles of these guys. We need a full workup. Are they being monitored now? If we have eyes on them, more than likely, they’ll lead us to Ryan. You need to have another chat with Barlow. Hell, I need to chat with Barlow. I can make him talk.”

  Jablonsky exhaled uneasily, before firmly adding, “Farrell and Interpol are monitoring the situation.”

  “You promised we’d find him.”

  “No. I promised that I would find him. Go home with Marty, and let me do my job.” Petulantly, I refused to move a muscle. “And stay the hell away from your apartment. Right now, you’re still not thinking clearly, and the last thing Donough needs is a liability.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I warned. “Please,” I pressed my lips together, trying to stabilize my breathing, “you taught me everything I know. If anyone can find him, Mark, it’s you.”

  “I will.” He stood and ushered me to the door. “I will.”

  I took the elevator to the garage; my mind was already piecing things together. If Barlow’s guys had Ryan, then there must be a way to rescue him. I climbed into the back of the town car and rubbed my eyes. Robert Gregson seemed like our best bet to figuring out where Ryan could be stashed. If he knew Barlow personally, or even if it was solely a business relationship, he might know where the cars or car parts were kept prior to transport. Maybe Barlow had some safe houses or other locations that no one discovered. Any one of them could be used to hold Ryan captive.

  “How’d it go?” Martin asked, handing me a cup of coffee, my first one in two days.

  “Can you drop me off at the precinct? I’m sure one of the detectives will give me a ride.” I took a sip and continued to process through my thoughts. He sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t be allowed to continue this outing for too much longer. I swallowed. “They took him from my apartment. They waited until I left, and then they came for him.” I thought about the rolled up carpet comment and my missing blanket. Poor Ryan.

  “Sweetheart, you’re not to blame for this.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.” Why didn’t Ryan fight back? Why would he drink anything they brought? No, the water bottle must have been from my fridge. It must have already been on the counter when they mickied him. Dammit. Why did he even let them inside? “Shit,” I swore, “his cover’s been blown. Mark practically said as much upstairs, but I missed it.”

  My mind raced. This wasn’t about taking over; this was about revenge. They tracked him out of the OIO building. They knew he was Interpol. How did they find out? Did Grenauldo say something before they killed him? Or did something recent tip them off?

  I dialed Mark and waited for an answer. “What is it now?” he asked.

  “They know he’s Interpol. Do we have a leak? Or does this track to Grenauldo? How long have they known? Have you swept for bugs at his hotel?” A new thought formed in my mind. “What about tracing his phone? Hell, you could trace their phones.”

  “It’s still too soon to know anything, but I don’t think it’s a leak.” He exhaled. “Not from our end, anyway. His phone’s been turned off, and we don’t have enough information on Chase Devereaux or Virgil Mallick to positively identify their phone numbers or carriers. They probably picked up anonymous burners when they arrived. And we haven’t found anything yet, so maybe they’ve been tailing him all along. If they were, that’d explain how they determined he was working against them instead of with them. After the arrests, they probably got paranoid.”

  “Listen, you and I go in circles, but if there is something I can do, tell me.”

  “Frankly, I don’t know yet. We’re still gathering intel, so get your head on straight and get some rest. I’ll pu
ll you off the bench if I need you.”

  “Thanks.” Well, at least that conversation went better than the one in his office. Unfortunately, I wasn’t planning to listen. There was no reason to sit out another inning when I had some cop friends who might let me play.

  “What are you going to do?” Martin asked. He heard most of the conversation and knew I wouldn’t sit around and wait. I was incapable of such action.

  “I’ll start at the beginning. This began with a couple of car thieves. With any luck, they’ll lead to a couple of thugs, who will lead to Ryan.”

  * * *

  “We’ve been over it and over it,” O’Connell griped. After hours of research, he found me sitting in the corner of the evidence room, reading through everything APS provided the precinct, the interview transcripts with Barlow, Gregson, and Claxton, and the manifest of the items found during the raid at Robert’s garage. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”

  “I’m looking for leads.” I gave him a dirty look. “Gregson must know Barlow. It has to be more than just a business transaction; if not, he’d have flipped on him. What do you have on Gregson? I can’t find his rap sheet, but the precinct’s computer system doesn’t acknowledge me as a valid user. Can you believe that?”

  “Parker,” he sighed, “the brass isn’t happy that you’re camped out in evidence. You’re not a consultant, and a week ago, you looked good for a few counts of GTA. You need to clear out of here.” I stared wide-eyed at him. “I’m off the clock, but most things are computerized nowadays. We can take this party elsewhere.” He offered his hand and helped me off the floor.

  After everything was replaced on the shelves, and the officer working desk duty in evidence wished us a good night, Nick drove to my office at the strip mall. I unlocked the door and turned on the computer. This wasn’t the ideal place to work, but my apartment was out of the question.

  “Did you ever identify the manufacturers and distributors of the drugs?” I asked, surrendering the chair, so he could log into the precinct database and open the relevant case files.

  “It’s a fairly complex compound. Narcotics is busy identifying street dealers who sell the stuff, and major crimes has been placing calls to dozens of companies who manufacture this shit. But as of yet, we can’t trace it to one supplier. Honestly, it’s probably not a single supplier since it’s made from three different compounds.” He opened the Gregson interview files and scooted away from the desk. “What are you thinking?”

  “That this is the worst time for my brain to be fuzzy,” I muttered. “Robert Gregson and Reginald Barlow have to be connected. Maybe Gregson can identify the Camel or lead us to Donough.” I clicked through the various interview transcripts. “How many passes did you make at him?”

  “Four. I think Thompson and Heathcliff might have tried once or twice.” He leaned over my shoulder. “They should all be listed.”

  “They are.” I skimmed but didn’t see anything useful. “What were your impressions? You know there’s so much more behind an interview than what gets recorded as verbal communication.”

  “He’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but with a killer for hire and Donough missing, it could be anything. Originally, I thought he had other garages or chop shops that he was protecting, but clearly, the game has changed.”

  Considering his words, I blew out a breath. “Maybe not.” I shut my eyes, recalling my encounters with Robert and Tommy. “Tommy always stayed in the neighborhood. He lived, worked, ate, chopped, all within a ten block radius. But maybe Robert has other garages elsewhere.”

  “Wouldn’t that be very entrepreneurial of him?”

  “Okay, Tommy said that after Barlow gave Robert the initial shopping list, six more cars were added. We thought that was because he found an additional buyer.” C’mon, think, I coaxed my brain to work. “What if one of Robert’s other chop shops couldn’t deliver, so he passed it along to me and Tommy since I’m apparently a kick-ass car thief?”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” O’Connell picked up his phone. “Let me call around to a few of the other precincts and see what kinds of busts they’ve made recently.” He narrowed his eyes. “You think one of Gregson’s other locations is where they’re keeping Donough?”

  “I don’t know. They need someplace secluded.” Why didn’t I ask Ryan about this before? Since he went everywhere with Barlow, he might have had valuable insight into the car theft ring, but I didn’t care. My job with APS was over, and he was busy working on identifying an international hitman. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I keep thinking Barlow’s buyers or clients or whatever the hell they are somehow link to the Camel. Like maybe that’s how the money is transferred when a hit is ordered, or it’s code for something. After all, there were two homicides with the same M.O. that also linked to stolen car parts.” I paced my office. “We need to take another stab at Barlow.”

  “Why don’t you ask Jablonsky for some assistance?” O’Connell replied, waiting for his call to be redirected to burglary. “They’ve taken custody of Barlow, or at least some federal agency has.”

  I let out a bitter laugh. “He said Interpol’s handling it. Mark doesn’t want to assist me or let me help. Do you know how many times I’ve walked out of that building, proclaiming to quit and refusing to come back? Apparently, I’ve used up all of my influence by acting like a spoiled brat. After the last time,” I thought about yet another of my fuckups, “it makes sense why Mark isn’t helping.”

  He held up a finger, speaking into the receiver and asking for information on chop shops. After a time, he disconnected, having been given another precinct to check with. “Funny, he showed up to work your apartment before Martin even got you out the door, so I’d say he’s helping.” He dialed another number and opened a search box in the police department’s database. “Here, I’ve found Gregson’s record. You said you wanted to take a look earlier.” Squinting my eyes, I hated how I forgot this between the drive from the precinct to my office. At least O’Connell was doing a decent job acting as my sticky note reminder.

  Sitting down in front of the desk, I began reading as he continued placing calls. Maybe it wouldn’t lead anywhere, but it made me feel better to think I was doing something. Waiting around was much more painful than running through dead end leads. Plus, something substantial could be gained. There was no way to know for sure.

  Robert Gregson had a record for assault and theft, but nothing serious and no auto-related crimes. It seemed strange, but maybe he was just that good. Drumming my fingers on the desk, I performed a search for his property records, hoping to come up with some additional locations he owned or operated, but it came up blank.

  When the phone calls were concluded, O’Connell pulled up my client chair and sat down. “Now what do you want to do?”

  “I know you’re in the middle of countless investigations. The cars, the drugs, the dromedary killer, but can you tell me what you know?”

  “When I lose my badge because of this, I’m hoping Martin will pitch in to support me and Jen when I’m unemployed or in jail.”

  “Bonus, I’ll make sure he tosses in legal fees for some high-powered defense attorneys,” I added, grinning.

  “That really doesn’t help.” He studied me for a moment. “All right, make a pot of coffee. We’re going to be here awhile.”

  The two bodies that were discovered with the stolen vehicles suffered from extreme dehydration followed by a sudden excess of fluids which caused the cells to burst. It was painful, slow, and a horrible way to die. It was also the method used by the Camel. Based upon missing person’s reports, the double homicide victims were identified as frat boys who disappeared during a weekend getaway almost a month ago. TOD occurred somewhere within a two week time span.

  “Any idea why someone would want to put a hit on two college kids?” I wondered.

  “Well, it turns out they were Ivy Leaguers. Their parents have tons of money, power, and could buy the
ir sons out of trouble, which they did.” He rolled his eyes. “A year ago, they were accused of aggravated sexual assault. It looked like the local police had a decent case.” His cheek twitched with disdain. “Hell, they had a rape kit, DNA, and photographs, but the charges were dismissed. The case was dropped.”

  “Small town?”

  “Close-knit community. Things were handled out of court.”

  “Well, what about the girl’s family? If it was my kid, I’d hire a hitman too.”

  “We’re checking, but they’re just as affluent.” He shrugged. “Without solid evidence and zero proof that they hired someone to do the job, we can’t get a warrant or subpoena.”

  “That’s why you need to see their financials.” That was the trick. The evidence needed to obtain the proper paperwork could only be obtained with the proper legal paperwork. “What about tracking their internet history and seeing what turns up?”

  “Same problem.” He looked away. “We need to stop this killer, and we need to get your friend back. But,” he shook his head, “under the circumstances, I can understand seeking a third option.”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” I understood too. There was a psycho on the loose, and he might have Ryan. “Okay, so we’ll assume the two frat boys are the most recent kills on the Camel’s list.” I stopped, a thought suddenly flashing brightly in my brain. “What kinds of auto parts were found with the bodies? You said they were rich.”

  “Audi parts, I think.”

  “What did they drive?”

  “The parts weren’t from their cars. The parents said all their vehicles were accounted for.”

  “But what did they drive?”

  “I don’t know.” The light bulb clicked on, and he opened the DOT database. “Let’s find out.”