by Thomas Scott
“I don’t see us having the need to actually talk to anyone,” Rosencrantz said. “We’re mainly here to observe.”
“That’s fine with me. See those fat yellow lines out there on the floor?”
Both men looked out the window at the floor below and told him they did.
“That’s the safety zone. Stay between those lines at all times. If anyone asks—though they probably won’t—you guys are safety consultants. Join me at the production meeting and that’s how I’ll introduce you. Any questions? Good. Let’s go.” Then Green stood and walked out of his office. Ross and Rosencrantz followed him out and down to the floor.
The production meeting bored them almost to the point of tears, but both Ross and Rosencrantz were already taking notes, writing down descriptions of a few of the workers who looked like possible candidates to follow up on. They were fidgety, scratching their hands and necks, their eyelids open wide, their pupils the size of pinpricks.
When the meeting was over, they watched their targets move to their particular workstations, then spent a few hours walking the floor, looking for anyone else they might want to follow up with. When they had everyone they thought they needed, they went back up to Green’s office. He was on his way out.
“We’d like to ask you about a few people,” Rosencrantz said.
Green nodded wearily like he knew this moment was coming. “Give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ve got to run down and check on something. I’ll be right back.”
Once he was out of the office, Ross looked at Rosencrantz and said, “So….”
“So what?” Rosencrantz said.
“Don’t so what me, dude. Tell me about last night.”
“We had dinner. What’s the big deal?”
“No big deal,” Ross said. “I’d simply like to hear about it.”
Rosencrantz knew Ross wouldn’t let it go, so he said, “We went to some seafood place on the northern part of the city called The Chubby Trout. It was sort of a down-to-earth joint. Nice selection of craft beers. Like that.”
Ross shook his head. “I wasn’t asking about the dinner menu. I was asking about your night.”
Rosencrantz pretended like he hadn’t heard his partner. “I had Lobster, and it was delicious…all on the federal dime.”
“I’ll bet dessert must have been delicious as well, at least from what I saw. How long did it take to get her out of that T-shirt?”
“What? You were spying on me?”
Ross shook his head. “Nope. Pure coincidence. I went down to the end of the hall to get some ice. I was standing right there at the machine when you guys got off the elevator. Then just as I made it back to my room, I heard Martin’s door open. She looked pretty hot. Although with the way you pulled her into your room, I’m surprised you didn’t dislocate her shoulder.”
Rosencrantz shrugged. “What can I tell you? It was her idea.”
Ross was about to respond when Green walked back in. “Okay, who do you need information on…?”
When Miles walked into the Shelby County police station, it was two minutes past eight in the morning. He found a late-middle-aged woman with big hair behind the reception counter, a pair of glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. When Miles entered, she put on her glasses, looked at him, and said, “May I help you?”
Ron thought her voice might have cracked a little when she spoke. “My name is Ron Miles, with the state. I’m the new acting sheriff for Shelby County. You must be Betty.”
Betty stood up and said, “I am. And on whose authority are you the acting sheriff?”
“Judge Henry Parker’s. He swore me in last night after the discovery of Undersheriff Hall’s body, and the, uh, unfortunate sequence of events regarding Sheriff Holden.”
Betty got a little snippy with him. “Well, no one has informed me, and I’ve yet to see any paperwork come through.”
Off to a great start, Ron thought. “He…the judge, I mean, said he was going to turn the order in at the county courthouse this morning. Maybe he’s not an early riser.” He tried to keep a smile in his voice when he spoke.
Betty pointed to a bench that sat against the side wall of the reception area. “Have a seat over there. I’ll see what I can find out from the county.”
Ron sat down as instructed, while Betty went into the sheriff’s office and closed the door. A few minutes later she came back out with a faxed sheet of paper in her hand.
“Can I see your ID?” Betty said.
Instead of showing her his private investigator’s badge, Ron pulled out his driver’s license and handed it over. Betty compared his license to the paperwork, then, with enough scorn to make sure her point was made, said, “Sheriff Holden had open heart surgery last night. Thanks so much for your inquiry regarding his current medical state.”
“I’m aware,” Ron said. “And I checked with the hospital before coming in this morning, so how about you dial it back to ninety or so on the attitude meter? Can I have my license back now?”
Betty gave him the license back, then Ron said, “They tell me that the surgery went well. He’s recovering comfortably in the ICU.”
Betty gave him a half eye roll. “They cracked the man’s chest. I seriously doubt that he’s resting comfortably, as you say.”
“I’m only repeating what they told me. Are you always this cranky?”
“Who says I’m cranky? I’m worried, is what I am.”
Ron softened up a little. “I understand. I really do. But right now, I’m in charge of this department, and that means you work for me. It also means that I need your help.”
“Help with what?”
“I’ll need a uniform, a badge, and an unmarked squad car. Think you can handle that?”
“The only unmarked car we have is the one Sheriff Holden drives. We finally got him to get rid of that ratty old station wagon. As far as I know, it’s still out at the Mizner residence. I’ll have someone fetch it for you.”
Fetch? “That’ll be fine,” Ron said. He handed her a piece of paper with his measurements. “Something close to that will do for my uniform size. Don’t forget the badge.”
“Anything else?” Betty said, a little exasperated.
“Yeah, get Deputy Henderson in here as soon as possible.”
“Why?”
Ron closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he said, “Because I need to speak with him. I’ll be in my office.”
“Where’s your gun?” Betty asked.
“In my holster.”
“Sheriff or not, don’t get smart with me, mister. Where’s your holster?”
“On my right hip.”
“Well, at least you’re doing something right.” Betty grabbed her purse and said, “I’ll be back with your uniform as soon as I can. Answer the phone if it rings.”
Ron walked into his office and sat down behind Holden’s desk. “Christ, that went well,” he said under his breath to exactly no one.
From the lobby: “I heard that.”
After Sandy left for the statehouse, Virgil spent the better part of the morning with his boys entertaining the fish. When they first got down to the pond, Virgil remembered that he’d left his beer bottle sitting on his father’s cross the previous evening, but when he went to retrieve it, he discovered it was no longer there. In its place was a flat, smooth stone. Message delivered, Virgil thought. He grabbed the stone and skipped it across the surface of the pond.
After they were done fishing, Virgil let the boys go play with Larry the Dog, and he went into his office and called Rick Said.
“Hey, Jonesy. How are you?”
“I’m well, Rick. And you?”
“Busy, as always. What can I do for you?”
Virgil spent a few minutes bringing Said up to date with his case, specifically the deaths of Graves and Mizner, and the fact that their shares of the royalties would revert back to the partnership he and Said controlled. He finished with, “Carl Johnson says he doesn’t want any of t
he split. He told me to have any shares and royalties associated with them to go to the cultural center. I’m going to do the same.”
“I’m very sorry to hear about those guys, Jonesy. I guess I’ll donate mine as well.”
“I think Patty would be pleased to hear that, Rick.”
“I’ll have my people get the paperwork started immediately.” Then, “Any idea who did the killings?”
“Yeah. We know who. All we have to do is find them.”
Said, who was about as loyal a business partner as anyone could have, said, “Well, when you do, kill the bastards.”
Virgil snorted through the phone. “Carl told me the same thing.”
“Carl said that?”
“Yep.”
“Well there you go, then,” Said said.
Ron’s uniform ended up being a tad on the small side, his pants about an inch short. He secretly wondered if Betty had done it on purpose, though he wasn’t about to ask her. He finished changing, and just as he did, there was a knock on his office door, and Deputy Henderson stuck his head in. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did,” Miles said. “Take a seat.”
Henderson sat down and adjusted his gun belt. “How can I help you?”
Miles got right to it. “Three ways. The first one is easy. You’ve got the most seniority on the department’s roster, so effective immediately, I’m promoting you to undersheriff of Shelby County.”
Henderson gave Ron a sad sort of grin. “Thank you. Wish it didn’t have to be under these circumstances though.”
“So do I,” Miles said. “Second, I’d like you to get the word out to all the other deputies and inform them that I’m the acting sheriff. At some point we’ll try to get a meeting scheduled, but right now we don’t have time for a meet and greet.”
“I can handle that, no problem.”
“Good. Finally, you and your men know this county better than anyone. I want everyone…and I mean every single deputy to put together a list of known assholes…the drunks, the dopers, the trouble makers, the wife beaters…all of them. I want to know where they hang out, and who they hang out with. We’re going to shake this county and shake it hard until something breaks loose. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. I’ll expect to have everyone’s list by this time tomorrow.”
Henderson nodded. “You’ll have it. Might be quite a bit of overlap though.”
“That’s okay,” Miles said. “Overlap doesn’t matter. We just need to start leaning on people. I want the patrol officers to start getting in people’s faces. No one gets a break on a busted headlight, a speeding ticket, or a drunk and disorderly unless they’ve got something useful for us.”
“Sounds like things are going to get interesting,” Henderson said.
“Let’s hope. The state’s Major Crimes Unit will be assisting us as needed, but if we can break this thing loose quickly, we’ll save some lives.”
“Anything else?”
Miles nodded. “Have Betty run a report on all recently released convicts who were either arrested within the county or have taken up residence here after their incarceration ended.”
“I can ask her to do that, but I thought we were primarily looking for these two guys, Hawk and Dakota.”
“We are. But the ex-cons are the ones who have their ear to the ground, and if any of them know where they are, with their record hanging out in the wind, we’ll have some leverage.”
“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve done this sort of work before.”
“I wasn’t,” Miles said. “I’m not much of a kidder. Let’s get to it.”
Chapter Thirty
Henderson had only been out of Ron’s office for about two minutes when he stuck his head back in and said, “Betty says she doesn’t have the kind of access you’re looking for regarding the ex-cons and all that. Says that the information would have to come out of both the county and state databases, as well as some of the prisons themselves. Think the DA might be able to help us?”
“Probably, but I don’t want to waste time on the politics.”
“You got a better idea?” Henderson said.
“I do. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”
“How?”
“You don’t want to know,” Ron said. “Trust me. You really don’t.”
Henderson shrugged and walked out of the office. Once he was gone, Ron closed the door, then sat back down and called Becky. “I need your help.”
“Sure. Say, how’s it feel, by the way? The new job.”
“A little odd, if I’m being honest with you. It’s a pretty sudden change.”
Becky laughed. “Well, don’t let it go to your head. You technically still work for me. Anyway, what’s up?”
“I was hoping you could do what you do and get me a list of all convicts released in the last year or so who were either arrested in Shelby County or have taken up residence here after their incarceration.”
“Sure. Piece of cake. When do you need it?”
“End of day?”
“How about fifteen minutes? I can run that kind of query in my sleep.”
“Ah, that’s great Becky. Fax it to my office will you?”
“You got it, Ron. Good luck. Virgil and Murton left quite a while ago. They should be there any time now.”
“Thanks, Becky.” Ron heard Betty out in the reception area arguing with someone. He shook his head, then said, “Listen, you wouldn’t be interested in a temporary assignment, would you?”
Becky laughed again, then hung up on him.
Ron walked out to the reception area to see what all the fuss was about. When he got there, he discovered Virgil and Murton standing on the visitor’s side of the counter, listening to Betty as she tried to send them away.
“The sheriff is much too busy to see anyone right now, state agents or not. If you’d like to make an appoint—”
“Betty?” Ron said.
Betty snapped her head toward Ron and said, “What?”
“I’m expecting these gentlemen. How about you let them pass?”
“Well, no one informed me. I wonder who should have done that?”
Ron looked at Virgil and Murton, and said, “Come on in, guys.”
Virgil and Murton made their way around the counter. As Murton walked past Betty, he gave her a wink, along with a big toothy grin.
But Betty wasn’t playing. “Try winking at me again, handsome, and see where that gets you. Nice shirt. Did you just get back from the Bahamas? At least your partner looks like he’s ready to do some real work. Although he could use a haircut.”
Everyone knew their best chance of survival was to get to Ron’s office. They hurried in and closed the door behind them.
Murton looked at Ron and said, “Wow. How’s the first day going so far?”
Miles let his eyes droop. “Like clockwork. I’m still trying to figure out whose side that woman is on.”
“My guess would be her own,” Virgil said. “The good news is I think she’s probably just under a lot of stress.”
“That’s the good news?” Miles said.
With the basic cop bullshit out of the way, Virgil said, “Got a plan in place yet?”
“The basics. I was looking at the county plat maps, trying to get a feel for the place. The latest census figures show that there are over forty-four thousand residents of this county, and we’re looking for two guys. It’s not going to be easy.”
“Where do you plan to start?” Murton said.
Miles pointed at Virgil and said, “By taking this one’s advice. I’ve promoted Ed Henderson to undersheriff, and I’ve told him to speak with the other deputies and get me a list of all the known idiots and trouble makers. Like to know who they hang out with and where. I should have that by this time tomorrow. Also, I’ve got Becky putting a list together of all recently released convicts who were either arrested within the county or have taken up residence here at the end o
f their incarceration.”
“Making a full-court press, then,” Murton said.
Miles nodded. “I am. The hope is we might be able to leverage someone who knows something about Hawk or Dakota. Any word from Ross and Rosencrantz on their end?”
Virgil shook his head. “They just got started in earnest this morning, but I’m guessing it won’t take too long.”
“Ross is motivated, that’s for sure,” Murton said.
“Did the crime scene crew finish up out at Mizner’s?” Virgil asked.
“I’m not exactly sure.” Miles looked at the phone on his desk, then instead of trying to figure out all the buttons, stood from his chair, walked over and opened the door. “Betty, has the crime scene crew finished up at the Mizner residence yet?”
“Very early this morning. Why?”
Miles ignored her question and said, “Get me the report.” Then he closed the door. When he sat back down at his desk he looked at Virgil and Murton and said, “If I’m here for more than a week, that woman is getting replaced.”
Murton laughed. “If you’re here for more than a week, that woman will kill you.”
“You’re probably right,” Miles said. “One of the first questions she asked me was where I keep my gun.”
“Where’s this county map you were speaking of a moment ago?” Virgil said.
“Pinned to the wall in the break room, or conference room. I think they’re one and the same.”
“Let’s go take a look at it,” Virgil said.
“Why?”
“You said it yourself, Ron. This county has over forty-four thousand people. Maybe we can narrow the search grid.”
When they stepped out of Ron’s office, Betty was standing by the fax machine, pulling pages off one by one. They were almost past the lobby when she said, “Sheriff? Here’s that list you requested. I don’t know how you got it so fast, which makes me think you state people are up to no good, but I try to keep my opinions to myself, in case you haven’t noticed.”
