“Okay, we’ll work it same as before. If you get a location on him, first go ahead and alert the cops who work the area so they can get started sealing him off. Then call me and I’ll take care of the rest of the notifications.”
The waitress stopped to clear the empties.
“Okay, but I still want to be in on it. I don’t care where we find him; I want my shot at this guy.”
“How do you think I feel?” Al asked.
“We got to get you healthy first,” Rene said patting his back again.
Carla stopped the waitress from leaving and asked Rene if she wanted to order something to eat.
“Oh, I already did. Ben took my order. We women have it under control, don’t we? In fact, I think the four of us ought to get together when this thing is over with. Maybe a shopping trip …to Vegas.”
Great, Nick thought, Ellen with these three in Vegas.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Tsst.” Billings made that spitting sound again. “It’s been a week without any activity, zero, zip, nada …”
“That we know of Chief. Nobody’s watching it at night, remember. For all I know Moby’s been sleeping in her bed,” Nick shot back.
“Look, I just can’t justify it any longer,” Billings said. “And it’s not just the expense. I have to cut an available vacation slot to keep someone on her house and still maintain minimum staffing. That means someone who wants a day off can’t get it, which gives the police association something to snivel about. Then there’s the new school program we got going. We have to have an officer at each of the public schools at the beginning and end of their day. That also means staffing levels have to stay up. And that’s not the half of it. Your case isn’t the only thing we got going, Nick.”
“Moby’s still out there, and he’s still dangerous.”
“But he’s running. Tsst …He’s so hot his ass is smoking. There’s no way in hell he’ll show his face around here.”
“I’m not so sure about that. He’s not like your everyday crook. He’s challenged by the fact we’re looking for him. He wants to thumb us in the eye and keep on doing it every chance he gets. He gets off on it.”
“Tsst, tsst …I just don’t see it. His damn photo has been on the front page of every paper and on every news channel for the past three days now. There isn’t a blue and white in the city that doesn’t have his face taped to the dash. If he was in town, someone would spot him for sure. He’s gone, Nick, and he’s not coming back.”
“Moby’s different. I’m telling you, he’s gonna be back and it’ll be soon,” Nick said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Tsst …” Billings stared at him. “Maybe you’re right, but the facts say something else. This is what I’ll do. I’ll park an empty blue and white out front for a few more days and that’s it. Even if he does come back it’s not likely he’ll try anything in broad daylight. And the way I hear it, you’ve got her well covered at night.”
The Chief remained stone faced as he said the last.
So the rumors had even reached Billings. Nick decided to ignore it.
“When are you going to call it?” Nick asked. “How much time do I have?”
Billings looked at his watch. “The end of the day, so what, four o’clock I suppose.”
“Will you at least give the order to have the beat officer do frequent roll-bys for a few more days?”
“I’ll order up the roll-bys and an empty blue and white, but that’s it. Don’t ask for anything else. Are you always such a hard-ass?”
“Just when I’m trying to catch a killer. One more thing and that’s it; can we look at it again if things change?”
“Yeah …Tsst …of course. Now get out of here. I don’t’ want to talk with you anymore. Go. Go catch this asshole so we can be finished with him.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Nick couldn’t stand the thought of going back to his office and sitting at his damn desk some more. He needed some fresh air. He needed that and a cup of good strong coffee.
He left the building at a fast walk out onto San Pedro Street and turned towards Hedding. A marked unit passed by on the street. The driver double tapped the horn in greeting, but Nick couldn’t see who it was; too much reflection coming from the windows.
He felt antsy, anxious, full of energy but no place to go. He’d cleared the case, identified the killer, and the evidence just kept on getting better, but so what; so fucking what? Moby was still out there and still an ever present threat. Nobody was safe until the man was either dead or in jail.
He walked past a gang banger dressed out in red, a dummy sitting on the cement retaining wall outside the county jail building. A tattoo bloomed on his right arm. Spit landed next to Nick’s feet as he passed but he ignored him.
At the corner, he crossed the street, walking towards N First. He nodded to a Deputy District Attorney he recognized, but couldn’t recall his name. A man wearing a white apron, smudged dirty with ink, and a cockeyed ball cap was selling newspapers on the sidewalk. The newsy held up a copy of the Merc. Nick could see Moby’s smirking face staring out from the front page, which only deepened his mood.
He’s not going to be caught that way Nick thought. Somebody in a neighborhood convenience store isn’t going to recognize him buying cigarettes and a six pack and dial up the local cops. Moby was too smart for that. He had an escape plan in place long before he went on the run. A guy like him would have a new identity, plenty of cash, transportation, even a disguise ready to go. A safe house somewhere wasn’t out of the question either.
Nick climbed the steps in front of the county building, up onto the broad patio out front. A kiosk was there that hawked coffee and snacks. He lined up behind a woman wearing a violet colored dress and matching hat with a long feather tucked in its band and white mesh veil hanging down in front.
If I was Moby, Nick thought, I’d be in Mexico right now, or farther south, maybe even Brazil, just biding my time. And in a couple of weeks, maybe a month, when everyone had gone back to their routines and thought it was safe, I’d come around and wreck havoc.
The woman with the hat stepped away from the counter and Nick ordered. He paid for his coffee and stepped to the side where he went about putting one of those thin plastic lids on his cup. It was at this time that his cell beeped once indicating a text message received.
The text message was actually a picture message, and at first he didn’t understand what he was looking at. But then he got it. It was from Moby. It was an image of the tops of his bare feet. He must have been laying down on a chaise lounge with his ankles crossed, looking out at the ocean. Nick could see the lower part of his legs, the tops of his feet, an expanse of sand, the ocean, and blue sky. Moby was telling Nick that he was on vacation, enjoying life, but he still hadn’t forgotten about him.
It crossed his mind that maybe he ought to send a picture back; one of his bare ass, just to let him know what he was thinking of Moby.
Nick tried calling Rene’s cell phone but got her voicemail. He tried her at her office and was told she had stepped out for a couple of minutes. He needed to find out if she had been able to set up the trace on Moby’s phone. He picked-up his coffee and began walking briskly back to the office. After just a few steps the coffee was spilling out the sip hole and burning his hand. Frustrated and out of patience, he pitched the whole cup into a nearby trash can.
He hadn’t gone more than another twenty yards when his phone rang. It was Rene calling him back. His mind flashed on the full cup of coffee he’d just dumped.
“Hey, sorry,” she said. “I was in the bathroom when you called. What’s up?”
“I just got a message from Moby. Was your contact able to set-up the trace on his phone?”
“I don’t know. Let me call him and call you back.”
After hanging up Nick went back to the kiosk and bought another cup of coffee. The operator looked at him with curiosity, but didn’t say anything.
Nick was almost back to
the office when Rene called back.
“Got bad news for you. My contact is just the security guy. He’s not the guy who does the hocus pocus stuff to do the actual trace. That guy, the hocus pocus guy, screwed-up and either didn’t set the trace up or he traced the wrong number.”
“So we didn’t get it; is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s what I’m telling you. My guy was so pissed off I could hear him reaming the other guy out over the phone. It’s fixed now, though.”
“Great, perfect.”
“Well, we may still have a chance. If Moby left his phone on we should be able to track his location. I’ll give my contact a call back in a couple of minutes and see if they have anything.”
“Okay, thanks. Maybe I’ll send Moby a message of my own to see if I can stimulate some conversation and help things along.”
After hanging-up Nick thought about sending a picture of one of the range targets with the center shot out of it but quickly dismissed the idea because he didn’t want the photo showing up at trial as a twenty by thirty poster board display by the defense. So instead, he sent him: “You’re about to go international — America Watch. See you soon.”
After sending off the message, he slipped his phone back in his pocket, thought better of it because he was afraid he wouldn’t hear Moby’s call if it came, so took it back out again and held onto it as he walked back to the office.
When Nick arrived in Homicide, Fanucchi was there wearing a narrow brimmed straw hat with a little green and blue feather tucked in its wide satin band. Carla was standing facing him, holding a six inch mirror.
“I can’t believe you paid a hundred and fifty bucks for that thing,” she told him.
Fanucchi grabbed her wrist and raised it and the mirror she was holding to get a better view. He then turned his head a little to one side and then the other before saying, “It was a deal. This is a genuine Biltmore Madison Panabu. I’ve seen ‘em for two hundred …more even. Wearing one of these babies is like you toting a Louie Vuitton handbag.”
“I wouldn’t spend my money on one of those either. Hey Nick, some fed named Nesbit called for you. I left his number on your desk.”
Carla then pushed the mirror into Fanucchi’s hands and said, “Here, that thing makes you look like one of those guys in an old black and white gangster movie.”
“See, that goes to show you, you don’t know gentlemen’s fashion. Hats are making a big comeback.”
“That’s another reason not to wear it. You’re no flippin gentleman.”
Nick picked-up the message and asked, “How long ago did he call?”
“A half hour maybe. Hey Fanuch, you hear my husband and I are going to try and work things out. We’re going to our first counseling session tonight.”
Nick dialed Nesbit’s number.
“You told me yesterday, Carla,” Fanucchi said.
“Yeah? So what do you think?” she asked.
“I think it’s good because maybe if you get a better understanding of the man in your life, you’ll also get a better appreciation of men’s headwear.”
“There isn’t a shrink alive who’s gonna make me like that hat of yours, or my husband for that matter, that is unless he changes.”
Nesbit came on the line.
Fanucchi took his new hat off and set it carefully on his desk. Carla picked-up a case file and started reading it.
“Agent Nesbit.”
“This is Zajac. You called and left your number.”
“Who? Oh yeah, yeah. I guess I’ve been saying it wrong. What is that, Russian or something?”
“Polish. You get some information on Moby?”
“Yeah, but first we have an agreement right; to share information? You give me what you have and I give you what we have.”
Since Nick really didn’t have anything of real value to trade, he figured he didn’t have anything to lose by saying yes.
“That’s how I look at it. The point is to bag him, isn’t it? You’re not going to try and turn him into a snitch are you?”
“Hell no. He goes to prison.”
“Or to the execution chamber.”
“Better. Okay I’ll go first.”
“Fair enough,” Nick answered.
“One of our surveillance operations in a nowhere place named Why Arizona, spotted him, only they didn’t know who they were looking at. It was only later, after the photos were sent to Mesa, that he was identified.”
“What the hell was he doing there?”
“He was meeting with a mid level dope smuggler in a bar called Doctor Charlie’s. I’ve actually been there before and it’s a real dump. I think it used to be a barn or something. Got an old metal roof; you can even feel the air coming through the wallboards. I think the dress code includes packing a gun. Anyway, we’ve kept an eye on it for years to see who is meeting who, whom, whatever. Sometimes we even get a seizure out of it. In fact, that’s the weird thing about all this. The time he was busted bringing in a load and talked his way out of it, well that whole operation started in Doctor Charlie’s. He has to know we’re watching the place.”
What are you up to, Moby, Nick wondered? Did you want to be seen?
Al lumbered in making his first appearance of the day, looking a little beat-up. He picked-up Fanucchi’s hat and tried it on.
“When did all this happen?”
“Yesterday.”
“Do you think he’s staying someplace around there?” Nick asked.
“Unlikely. Our guys hung with him as far as the little airport they got there and then pulled off, so he probably caught a flight out or maybe even flew himself. Just to be safe, though, we sent a couple more agents down to see if they can sniff him out. Now how about you; you have anything?”
“Careful,” Fanucchi told Al. “That’s a Biltmore Panabu. I got it in Vegas. Hey, I have those coupons for you.”
“Not anything as good as yours.” Nick then told Nesbit about the photo text message Moby had sent him, the message Nick sent back and the trace they’d set-up on his phone, if only he’d turn it on.”
They ended the conversation with an agreement to talk again soon.
Just as Nick hung-up with Nesbit, Rene walked in.
To Al she said, “You don’t look so good; you feeling okay?”
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “I stopped the pain meds. It was a little hard to sleep last night is all.”
She put her hand on his arm, leaned in and then whispered in his ear. Nick saw his partner smile.
Now what’s going on there, Nick asked himself.
Rene finally addressed Nick. “Hey, I guess Moby must have turned off his phone because they can’t pick him up.”
“Figures.” Nick wrote Nesbit’s phone number on a scrap of paper. “If they do locate him, and he’s somewhere we can’t get to him in a reasonable time, call this guy with DEA. He’ll send some people after him from their closest office. We’ll just have to catch-up.”
“So what’d he say,” Al asked. “The fed.”
“He says a guy they later identified as Moby walked into a DEA surveillance in a little Arizona town near the border.”
“Was he doing a dope deal or something?”
“Or something is more like it. He says that Moby should have known he’d be photographed.”
Fanucchi dropped into his chair and swiveled it around to face Nick. “Well if that’s true, he was screwing with us again.”
“Trying to mislead us somehow,” Nick said.
“Or maybe it is what it is; he was there to do a dope deal,” Rene said.
Carla sat on the edge of Fanucchi’s desk. “He’s a man, you can’t trust him. He’s up to something.”
“Give me a break.” Fanucchi picked up his new hat and put it on again.
“Have to agree with Carla,” Al said. “He’s too smart to walk into a DEA surveillance”.
They all sat quiet for a second.
“So what do we know for sure?
” Rene asked.
“Well, we know he’s not hiding out and lying low,” Nick said. “We also know that he’s probably getting around by airplane. Maybe we can work with that somehow. We know that he was in Arizona yesterday. And we know that at some point, probably in the last couple of days, he was on a beach where it was sunny and clear.”
“Why don’t I check the airport and see if I can get anything on the plane?” Fanucchi suggested.
“I got a crazy idea. How about if I check the weather reports and see if I can figure some possible coast areas where it was clear and sunny? It might be a place to start looking,” Carla said.
Nick grabbed the background folder on Moby and headed towards the door.
“Where you going?” Al asked.
“I gotta let Ellen know that we’re going to pull the surveillance on her house.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
An officer was still parked out front. Only thing though, he had his face buried in the morning paper.
Nick knocked on the door and waited. A minute later he knocked again, only this time louder. He told himself that he ought to just go on in, they were long past knocking.
After another thirty seconds or so the pinch of fear tweaked him. He pushed the front door open and called her name. Unconsciously, he touched the grip of his pistol and when he got no response, he looked back at the beat cop who appeared to be working a crossword puzzle.
“Son of a bitch,” he murmured. And then to himself, is this what Moby was up to, making us think he is somewhere far away?
Nick whistled once and saw the cop’s head snap around. He then pointed down the driveway and drew his pistol.
The officer scrambled out of the car and ran towards the driveway.
Nick went into the house afraid of what he might find and with a rage building murder.
When he reached the dining room he saw two cameras, a tripod, a battery pack, and a stack of Ellen’s business cards on the table. There was also a coffee cup more than half full of coffee and still warm to the touch. He looked to his right and saw a dish towel lying on the floor below the sink, and the water dribbling out of the faucet.
Touched By Blood Page 23
