Back Track

by Jason Dean

  Neeson and Kate looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Specifically, ovaries,’ he continued, ‘which happens to be something the medical community hasn’t been able to achieve yet with any degree of success. Which means we could be talking big, big money. These are some very serious people who aren’t above kidnapping and murder, but don’t ask me for any more because I simply don’t know enough yet. Maybe you can help me with that later, Kate. But for now, does this Olander sound like the kind of man who’d be involved in something like this? What kind of person is he?’

  Neeson said, ‘Shady’s a good adjective to describe him. Olander’s been a part of our local government for more years than I can count. He was even mayor for a long stretch a few years back. Whispers of private deals on the side and the greasing of palms have followed him wherever he goes, but he always gets voted back in somehow.’

  ‘Right,’ Kate said. ‘He’s also a shrewd businessman with his fingers in lots of pies, and from what I’ve heard, none of them are exactly above board.’

  ‘So he’s an unscrupulous politician,’ Bishop said. ‘I need more than that to go on.’

  ‘I’m getting to it, Bishop. Now, about seven years ago this guy from the footage, Arjen Abraham, started working as Olander’s personal assistant when he was head of the town’s Economic Development Advisory Board. And any time Olander switched roles after that, he’d bring Abraham with him. Of course, everybody guessed he was the point man for Olander’s private deals, but nobody ever said anything. He’s a pretty scary guy.’

  Not any more, Bishop thought. But he said nothing.

  ‘He stayed in that role until about three years ago when he quit, but people have still seen him coming out of Olander’s office more than once since then. Now if what you said is true, with the kind of money you’re talking about it’s possible Olander simply decided to assign Abraham to this new business full time.’

  Bishop gulped the last of the water and threw the empty cup in Kate’s wastebasket. It was certainly possible. And the time frames fitted in with what Tatem had told him. But he had a feeling there was still more. ‘What else?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, about four years back,’ Kate said, ‘I interviewed this car dealer in Yuma. He said Olander promised him zoning permission for a dealership he wanted to set up in a sought-after section of Saracen. And all it would cost him was four brand new SUVs. Naturally, he’s still waiting for the zoning permission. Poor guy can’t prove anything, of course. Nobody ever can. But those SUVs he got stiffed on? They were white Mercedes Sprinter panel vans, just like the one in the footage.’

  ‘That’s a pretty common vehicle,’ Bishop said.

  ‘Maybe in the city. Not so common in these parts. And Mercs aren’t cheap. You’ll find just about every panel van you see out here has got a Ford logo on it.’

  Bishop looked through the window at the night outside. If Olander owned the vans before, it didn’t necessarily mean he still owned them. He might have simply sold them on at a profit. That was something else he’d have to look into. He turned back to Kate and said, ‘Was Olander making good money from his previous schemes?’

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ she said. ‘He’s never exactly been on the breadline, let’s put it that way.’

  Neeson said, ‘I believe he was a millionaire even before he entered local government. But he’s one of those people who always lives beyond his means and always has an eye out for the next big chance.’

  ‘And now? Any big changes in how he spends his money? Or any indication that he’s come into a lot more of it in the last three years?’

  Kate and Neeson looked at each other. ‘Nothing obvious,’ Kate said. ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.’

  ‘That’s why God invented overseas accounts,’ Neeson said. ‘Katie’s right, though. I’ve had dealings with Grant many times and I can vouch that he’s got very few scruples where money’s involved. And if we’re talking about a figure in the hundreds of millions, I’m not sure he could resist. Even if it meant being involved in something as awful as this.’

  Just then a phone started ringing in one of the offices. Kate picked up hers, pressed a button on her console and said, ‘Saracen Post.’ After a few seconds, she smiled at Neeson and said, ‘Yeah, Ange, he is. I’ll tell him,’ before hanging up.

  Neeson looked at her, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Your youngest,’ she said, ‘reminding you the recital begins in less than half an hour, so get your ass in gear. When you gonna get yourself a cell phone, Stan?’

  He stood up and kissed Kate on the cheek. ‘When you get yourself a husband. Besides, I’m too old school. I better go, but you’ll keep me updated on this?’

  Kate looked at Bishop. ‘If I can.’

  ‘That’s all I ask.’ Neeson said his farewells to Bishop and Vallejo and left them.

  Bishop said, ‘What does this Olander look like?’

  ‘Hold on,’ Kate said and rolled her chair back to one of the filing cabinets behind her. She opened a drawer and rooted around inside. After a few seconds she came back holding a large photo. ‘Here’s our boy. This was taken a few years ago when he was mayor.’

  Bishop took the photo from her. It was a typical publicity shot of Olander perched casually on his desk in an expensive suit, with the requisite American flag taking up most of the background. He looked to be in his early to mid sixties. Under a full head of light grey hair, he had a leathery face with small, dark brown eyes and a long, narrow nose. His teeth were white, even and plentiful. Bishop passed the photo to Vallejo and said, ‘I’ve seen more trustworthy smiles on time-share hucksters.’

  Kate grinned and said, ‘The smile of the self-righteous public servant is a glorious thing to behold. Now didn’t you say there was something else you wanted some help with?’

  ‘Yeah. I spoke to Tatem and one thing he mentioned was this doctor back east who died several years ago. All I know is he claimed he’d made inroads on a method for transplanting ovaries that didn’t necessitate the donors having identical genetic material. Is there any way of finding out his name?’

  Kate turned to her computer and said, ‘Let’s see, shall we?’

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  It was less than three minutes later when Kate turned to Bishop and said, ‘I think we got something. I found the story on the BBC site, although it’s on a few others, too.’

  ‘I’m all ears,’ Bishop said.

  She turned back to the screen. ‘Well, assuming it’s the same man, his name was Dr Kendrick Juneau and he had a tenure position at the Presbyterian in Manhattan. Specifically, the Columbia University Medical Center, where seven years ago he was granted government funding for ovarian transplant research. Then four years ago, he published a paper in the New England Journal of Medicine on the overuse of anaesthetics in modern medicine. In it, he also included a little footnote, hinting at how close he was to a breakthrough in organ transplant research that would aid ninety per cent of women with non-functioning ovaries. That footnote got him a fair amount of column inches for a while, but he refused to say any more. Probably didn’t want his peers stealing his ideas. Then nothing more until his disappearance seven months later.’

  That got Bishop’s attention. ‘Disappearance?’

  ‘Right. He was on one of those solo adventure vacations in Africa. Witnesses last saw him in a canoe on the Congo River, with a guide and an unidentified dark-skinned woman. A week later, the police found the canoe’s remains, but no sign of the three passengers. They put it down as possible croc attack. It happens a lot down there. Then two years ago, the day before this article was written, Juneau’s wife filed a petition and had him legally declared dead by the courts.’

  ‘What about his notes?’ Vallejo asked. ‘Surely somebody accessed his computer so they could continue his research?’

  Kate smiled. ‘Apparently he was a little paranoid when it came to computers. Only used them when it was absolutely necessary, so he wrote down all his
notes in longhand and kept them hidden at home. But medical experts went though all his paperwork after he was declared dead and found next to nothing concerning his ovary research.’

  Bishop sat back in the chair and looked at Vallejo. She stared back without saying anything. They were both aware of the implications.

  Kate was watching Bishop with a gleam in her eyes. ‘Are you thinking his death could have been faked?’

  ‘It’s one possibility,’ he said. ‘It’s also a possibility that he was leading everybody on about his supposed breakthrough, and that he and his companions really did get attacked by crocodiles.’

  ‘But you don’t think so,’ she prompted.

  ‘I don’t really know what to think yet. I generally try and stay clear of conspiracy crap, since I’ve found the simplest explanation’s often the one to go for. But I have to admit, this does kind of fit in with what we’ve seen so far.’ Bishop got up and walked over to the water cooler and filled another cup.

  Kate said, ‘Could be the people behind this read that paper four years ago and got in touch with him. Maybe they offered him a choice he couldn’t resist.’

  Vallejo said, ‘You mean glory later, or untold riches right here and now?’

  ‘Doctors are human like the rest of us,’ Bishop said and took a sip of the water. ‘With the same temptations. If nothing else, that unidentified woman in the canoe suggests he liked the ladies. Maybe he liked the thought of money, too.’

  ‘Well, he sure wouldn’t be the first.’ Kate leaned back in her chair and stretched. ‘Look, I haven’t had anything solid pass my lips in hours. How about you guys? You want to go somewhere and grab something?’

  Vallejo stood up. ‘I’m not hungry, but you two go on.’ She looked at Bishop and said, ‘I think I want to be alone for a while, okay?’

  Bishop looked at her. She’d been pretty quiet since learning about Sam. Which was only natural. He didn’t think going to her room and brooding would really help her state of mind, but it was her choice. Everybody dealt with things differently. So he said, ‘Okay, but do me a favour, huh? Switch to one of the other rooms, but keep your car parked outside the old one. And don’t forget to take the thing with you. Maybe find it a similar home, you know, for safekeeping.’

  Vallejo frowned, then smiled. ‘Sure, I can do that.’

  Kate looked set to ask another question, but she saw Bishop’s expression and just shrugged instead. ‘Looks like it’s just the two of us, then. Come on, my treat.’

  FIFTY-NINE

  Kate took him to the Leaping Lizard, just off Saracen Road. Bishop wasn’t exactly sure why. The place was clearly geared towards the younger set. And it was getting on for eight o’clock on a Saturday night, too. The place was already starting to fill up with people of Selina’s age.

  The Lizard was a colourfully decorated bar and diner with tables and booths for dining at one end, a central bar area, then more tables and a second bar at the other end. Widescreen TVs everywhere. All showing games or music videos. Most of them were muted at present, although that was likely to change soon enough.

  They took a booth. Once the waitress finished taking their orders, Bishop said, ‘You usually come here to eat?’

  ‘Why, are you suggesting I’m not down with the kids any more?’

  Bishop smiled. ‘You’re asking the wrong person. So, is this where you met Clarissa?’

  ‘Yeah. I noticed she seemed quieter than usual back at the office. Something wrong?’

  ‘A personal problem. She’ll be all right in a few hours.’

  ‘Okay, if you say so.’

  The waitress came with their drinks. They each sipped their Budweisers and Kate said, ‘I heard something on the police scanner this afternoon. Another Bannings employee was found dead, this time in his apartment. A Jon Rutherford. You know him?’

  ‘No. Is there any reason why I should?’

  ‘No reason. I just asked.’

  Bishop doubted that. ‘So what was the cause of death?’

  ‘Well, he was found with his head in the oven and the gas turned on full. All the windows were shut. On the surface, it looks like suicide.’

  Bishop took another swallow of his beer and kept his expression blank. He and Vallejo sure hadn’t left Rutherford’s apartment like that when they’d departed.

  ‘But you don’t believe it,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t believe in the Easter Bunny, either. Come on, Bishop, I’m not stupid. That two-minute clip showed Abraham outside the Bannings place early this morning, just before the fire. Yet the police are already laying the blame at Rutherford’s door. The one person who’s in no position to defend himself.’

  ‘What possible motive could he have had to kill Hewitt and burn the place up?’

  ‘My police contact says he and Hewitt weren’t on good terms, that they came to blows a couple of times. They’re theorizing that maybe things went too far this time and ended with Hewitt getting his neck broken, after which Rutherford tried to cover up his crime with a fire.’

  ‘And the next morning, he’s overcome with remorse and sticks his head in an oven.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Doesn’t sound too likely, does it?’

  No, it doesn’t, Bishop thought. But it was a smart play. Since Bishop had an alibi for the fire, it looked like somebody had decided Rutherford shouldn’t go to waste. Somebody had to take the blame for Hewitt’s murder, and who better than a suicide?

  ‘Who called it in?’ he asked.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Was it a Detective Shaw?’

  She frowned at him. ‘Yeah, it was.’

  Which pretty much confirmed what Bishop already knew. There was an inside man in the department. Shaw must have received orders to make sure he was first on the scene and make sure everything went as planned. But didn’t cops always travel to crime scenes in pairs? What did he tell Levine to ensure he got there first?

  He realized Kate was talking to him. ‘What was that?’ he asked.

  ‘I said, how did you know it was Shaw?’

  Bishop shrugged. ‘I didn’t. He was one of the cops interrogating me about the fire this morning. I just threw the name out, that’s all.’

  Kate snorted. ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who just says things at random.’ She watched him for a long moment as she slowly slid the side of her forefinger down the beer glass. ‘You really need to give that footage to the police, you know.’

  Here we go again. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s a two-minute clip showing an indistinct man outside a garage that just happened to be set on fire shortly after. The very definition of circumstantial evidence. And Abraham’s got no obvious motive. Any half-decent lawyer would get it thrown out in a second.’

  ‘But it would point the police in the right direction, at least.’

  He shook his head. ‘If an innocent guy was facing a murder charge, I’d consider it, but Rutherford’s beyond caring. And I’m not about to risk Selina’s safety by alerting these people I’m on to them. Not yet.’

  She seemed about to say something else, but just then the waitress came back with their meals. Cheeseburger, salad and fries for Bishop. BLT sandwich and salad for Kate. They spent a quiet minute adding various condiments. Then Kate took a bite of the sandwich and said, ‘So tell me, what was it like in prison?’

  That little thunderbolt threw Bishop for only a moment. He launched into his burger and said, ‘You know about that?’

  She nodded. ‘When you first came to the office there was something about your face that struck a chord with me, so I did a little checking. You sure make interesting reading. So how was it behind bars?’

  ‘About what you’d expect. I’ve been in worse places, but I’ve been in better. You really want to talk about that while we eat?’

  ‘What shall we talk about, then?’ she asked, taking a sip of her beer and smiling playfully at him over the glass rim.

  He looked at the hands holding the glass. They were nice hands. And K
ate had a nice face. Especially when she smiled. Bishop knew there were plenty of subjects they could talk about. But he also remembered why he was here and said, ‘You mentioned Olander’s business dealings before. Has he got his own company set-up?’

  Kate sighed and put down the glass. ‘Uh huh. Catalyst Incorporated, it’s called.’

  ‘And do they have offices around here?’

  ‘Kind of. Olander’s got a whole warehouse just outside of town.’

  Bishop nodded. Even better. For what they were doing, they’d need someplace large. He’d already given it some serious thought, but up till now hadn’t really known where to start. There were warehouses practically everywhere you looked in Arizona. But now he remembered the industrial park he’d passed on Highway 60. Just outside of town. There’d been a sign by the road with a name on it. What was it again? After a few seconds it came back to him. ‘Gareth Rhodes Business Park? That the place you mean?’

  ‘That’s right. Olander has part ownership in the place. He’s also got one of the biggest warehouses all to himself, fenced off and away from all the others. I hear he employs security guards to keep watch, day and night. People around here have always wondered what he gets up to in there.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ he said.

  They both ate in silence for awhile, lost in their own thoughts. Bishop polished off the last of his burger and said, ‘That car dealer in Yuma. Do you still have his number?’

  Kate smiled, her salad fork halfway to her mouth. ‘I’ve got everyone’s number, don’t you know that by now? Why?’

  ‘Can you call him and get him to give you the licence numbers for those four vans?’

  Kate put down the fork and pulled out a small electronic organizer from her shoulder bag. ‘I can try,’ she said, and started pressing buttons with an expert’s touch. ‘There you are,’ she said a few moments later and pulled her cell phone from her bag. Bishop watched as she keyed in a number and put the phone to her ear.