by Marlow Kelly
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Jack was good until the conversation led to Booley,” Dana said, hoping a change of subject would bring her some much-needed control. They walked toward Tim’s truck in the Shady Pines parking lot.
“They never did get along, and now he associates the name Booley with all the pain I caused when I ran away.” He turned to stare at the facility grounds.
“You don’t blame yourself, do you?”
“I have days when I do, yeah.” He grabbed the door handle, avoiding her gaze. He obviously didn’t want to discuss what had to be a painful memory.
“It wasn’t your fault. You were set up.”
He opened the door, saying nothing.
He wasn’t going to talk about it. She understood, but at the same time she wanted him to confide in her and needed him to trust her enough to share his trauma.
Hah. Two days ago, she’d trailed him across the state because she believed he’d murdered his neighbor. There were no shortcuts. She would have to earn his trust, just as he’d earned hers.
“Can you drop me off at the police station on the square? I need to see Detective Ramirez.”
“You know they have this wonderful invention called a phone. You should try using it sometime.” He smiled, but once again it was his polite mask, not the real smile that revealed his dimple.
“It won’t take long. I want to apologize in person for interfering in the case, and I need to tell him about the changes in the Hopefalls Police Department.”
“Will this job work for you? You know with your…your…” He shrugged, not finishing the sentence. But then again, he didn’t have to. She knew what he was trying to say.
“I think it’ll be better.”
“How?”
“As chief, I will have more paperwork and won’t be on patrol unless it’s absolutely necessary. Plus, I’m only the interim chief. This position will give me time to get my act together and figure out my limitations.” A year ago, she would have thought nothing of using her SIG Sauer to defend herself and the citizens in her care. Now she had “limitations.”
He negotiated a left turn, heading toward downtown. “I know you’re having a hard time with what happened in Spokane, but you’re a cop. You’re not trained to kill. You’re trained to defend, and that’s what you did. You stood up to Booley in the name of justice, and you’re going to make an excellent police chief.” He placed his free hand over hers, offering her his strength and support.
She stared out of the window, watching the city streets go by. He was right. She wasn’t trained to kill. She was an investigator. Maybe that was the reason she couldn’t let Ben’s death go. She turned her palm up so they were holding hands. “Ben spoke to your father before he died—”
Tim sighed. “I don’t want Dad disturbed by this. Is there any way to leave him out of it?”
She shook her head. “It’s unavoidable. Ben was shot with a gun that was jointly owned by your father. I’m amazed Ramirez hasn’t been to see him, but I’m going to suggest he talk to Zoe Harris and Mrs. Anderson first.”
“Why them?”
“They’ve visited your father on more than one occasion.”
“I was terrified of Mrs. Anderson when I was in second grade. I would try everything I could think of to get her to like me, and nothing worked.” He smiled at the memory.
Mrs. Anderson had retired before Dana attended school, so she’d never experienced her as a teacher. But she understood what he was saying. Even as a retiree, Mrs. Anderson was a strong, dynamic, fearsome woman. “And now?”
“She’s the same. Tough and uncompromising, but thank God she’s one of the good guys.”
“Amen to that.” Dana stared out of the window the rest of the way to the police station. She was certain Jack had something to do with Ben’s Homicide, but the pieces just didn’t fit together. What if the gun had nothing to do with Ben’s death? Ben had the Colt. His death could have been a spur of the moment thing, something unplanned. The gun was lying there, waiting to be used. She wasn’t sure about that. Would a fancy Colt six-shooter, limited-edition, be lying around fully loaded? She didn’t know enough about Ben or how he stored his weapons. There were so many questions, and she didn’t know the answers to any of them.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Detective Ramirez met them in the lobby. He shook Dana’s hand first and then addressed Tim. “I was just about to call you.”
“Me?”
“Do you have time for an interview? It shouldn’t take long.”
Tim nodded and then frowned.
Ramirez led Dana to his desk. Although she had never set foot in the Granite City–Elkhead County police station, it felt familiar. Desks were crowded into the middle of a large central area, with interview rooms around the edge. The sound of officers talking on the phone, the slang used, and the sight of handcuffed suspects sitting with their arresting officers reminded her of her time in Spokane.
“What can I do for you, officer?” Ramirez pointed to a metal chair with a vinyl seat positioned next to his desk.
Dana made herself comfortable. “I’m replacing Levi Booley as the Hopefalls Interim Police Chief. Actually, I resigned last night when it became obvious that Chief Booley had used his position to cover up a probable manslaughter and victimize an innocent man.”
Ramirez whistled through pursed lips and then smiled. “That’s a lot of information. I heard rumors this morning there was a big to-do last night, but no one has shared any details. Congratulations.”
Dana smiled and nodded. The idea of being chief was both new and terrifying. “As I said, I was on my way here to talk to you. I need to apologize for interfering in your case.”
His brow wrinkled. “How did you interfere?”
“Under Chief Booley’s orders, I tailed Tim Morgan around on Saturday and Sunday. It was a waste of time.”
He gave a curt nod, acknowledging her words but didn’t comment on them. “It’s interesting to hear Booley’s been fired.”
“Why’s that?”
“He was on the phone this morning, demanding I detain Morgan for Ben North’s homicide. I told him to butt out of my case.”
“Did Booley say where he was? The town council wants to talk to him.”
Ramirez shook his head.
“In the interest of being completely honest, you should know I’ve just come from Shady Pines Care Facility. Shady Pine’s was my idea, not the chief’s.”
Ramirez pinned her with his assessing gaze. “What were you doing there?”
“I was visiting Jack Morgan.”
“I hear he has Alzheimer’s.”
“That’s right, but he’s a bit less muddled after his morning exercises. He told me Ben came to see him. I checked the sign-in book and, sure enough, Ben was there twice. The last time was just two days before he died. You might want to speak to Zoe Harris and Mrs. Anderson. They were there around the same time, so they might know something.”
Ramirez scribbled the names in a notepad. “Thanks. Anything else?”
“Jack said he gave the fancy Colt to Ben.”
“So when Tim said he hadn’t seen it in years, he was telling the truth.”
“Yes, but the gun’s just a prop, something to distract us.” She tugged at the ends of her hair, realized what she was doing, and brushed it back off her face.
Ramirez smiled. “You’re wasted as a small-town cop, and you’re right. He died of a heart attack brought on by poisoning.”
“It was the white powder on his face, wasn’t it?”
Ramirez tapped his keyboard, bringing up the report. “Devil’s breath, yes.”
“Is that a new street drug? I’ve never heard of devil’s breath.”
“It’s used by gangs, primarily in Columbia. They blow it in the faces of their victims. It takes away free will. People have been known to lead the criminals back to their homes and give them their belongings. There have even been cases where the target’s go to an ATM
and withdraw all their money.”
“So, in effect, they help the perpetrators steal their valuables?
Ramirez nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do the victims know what they’re doing?”
“Yes, but they can’t stop themselves.”
“Dear God.” Dana put a hand over her mouth, shocked at the consequences of having a narcotic like devil’s breath hit the streets.
“It can stay in their system for a week, and it plays with the mind. The devil’s breath causes a bad high, which includes nightmarish hallucinations and self-harm. It’s pretty awful stuff.”
“Are you telling me someone used a South American hallucinogen to poison Ben?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“If this stuff is used to control people, then we have to assume someone wanted to have power over Ben, but why?”
Ramirez tapped his fingers on his desk. “Maybe they wanted him to sign something, perhaps an authorization to mine Molly’s Mountain.”
Dana pictured the protesters at the gate of Ben’s Land. “That question leaves a wide pool of suspects. Half the town wanted that mine.”
“Okay, let’s approach this from another angle. Do you know anyone who’s been to Columbia?”
Dana shook her head.
“How about drug dealers?”
“I’ll have Xavier do the rounds, but it’s a small town. If something this exotic was available, someone would have said something.”
“And you haven’t had anyone hospitalized with these kinds of symptoms?”
“Nothing.” She had hoped the ME’s report would help discover who had killed Ben, but instead it had given her a new set of questions and no answers.
****
When Ramirez had finished his conversation with Dana, he had escorted her to the reception area and offered her a cup of coffee while she waited for Tim to be questioned. There had been camaraderie between them, an understanding.
With Tim, Ramirez was all business. The detective led him, in silence, to a cubicle-sized interview room.
“Do I need a lawyer?” He took in the scuffed, gray walls. The only furniture was a table and two chairs. A bar ran down the middle of the table, presumably to give the police a place to attach a suspect’s handcuffs.
Ramirez narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know, do you?”
Tim wasn’t playing games. “Tell me what this is about, or I’ll insist on a lawyer, and we will wait until she gets here before I answer any questions.”
The detective sighed and flexed his fingers as though he were giving himself time to decide the best course of action. “What did Ben want to talk to you about?”
“I don’t know. He left a message. He didn’t give details.” He buried his frustration. He knew from talking to Finn that the police repeatedly asked a suspect the same question in order to trip him up. All he had to do was keep his head. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
“How did he sound?” Ramirez snapped the question out like rapid gunfire.
“Old. We talked about this when you interviewed me in Hopefalls. What’s changed?” Damn it, the only reason he was even considered a suspect was because of Booley.
“Ben sent you a letter.”
“What? How do you know?”
“He gave it to his lawyer to mail to you in the event of his death.”
“What? Why?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” Ramirez was calm, in control. Which was only natural considering he knew what was going on.
“Ask the lawyer. Can’t he tell you?” Tim had a hard time wrapping his head around this latest piece of information.
“No. It was already sealed.”
“And you can’t interfere with the US mail.”
“If something criminal is going on, I can.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Ben obviously wanted to talk to me about something. But seeing as I didn’t have a chance to see him before he died, I have no idea what it was about.” Tim ground his teeth together. He wanted to scream, yell, and rage against the injustice, but he held his tongue. Lashing out would only make things worse.
“Do you know what’s in the letter?” Ramirez asked.
“No idea, and no, I didn’t kill him, and I definitely didn’t murder him over a stupid gun.”
“We will need to see the letter when it arrives. I can get a warrant—”
“That won’t be necessary. I have nothing to hide.”
“Whatever Ben North wanted to talk to you about must’ve been pretty important. If you think of anything or come across some knew information, let us know. Thank you for your cooperation.” Ramirez stood, nodded goodbye, and left the room.
Tim stared after him. The door was open. He wasn’t in handcuffs. He was free to go for now, but he was obviously still a suspect in Ben’s murder.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Finn enjoyed the feel of warmth on his back as he stood in the sun outside the upscale Sharp’s Inn and Resort, the most expensive hotel in Granite City.
Kennedy joined him, staring up at the red brick building with masonry dating back to the end of the nineteenth century. “Lance Ackerman probably won’t even speak to us.”
“We can ask. What’s the worst that can happen? Besides, it was your idea to talk to him.” It was a beautiful day, and he wasn’t going to let Kennedy’s apprehension get to him.
“I know, but I have this feeling we’re about to get sued.”
Finn looked her in the eye. “What’s our motto?”
Kennedy straightened, standing to attention. “Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity.”
“So?” He wanted her to fill in the blanks and understand they had to do this because it was the right thing to do, even if they got sued.
Kennedy frowned. “Are we displaying bravery or integrity?
He smiled. “Both. Let’s go.”
They headed toward the hotel.
Finn continued to make his case. “We know the Syndicate is real, and I have a hunch that something is going on here that’s bigger than Ben North’s homicide and more important than the acquisition of Molly’s Mountain—”
“You think the Syndicate are involved.”
It was a statement more than a question, but he answered anyway. “Yes, I do.”
“Do you really think Ackerman’s going to admit being part of an alliance of billionaire businessmen? And what is their goal? To control the world? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Yes, I know it sounds nuts, but what if it’s not so much about the world as it is about money?”
A doorman opened a polished brass door as they approached.
“Explain,” Kennedy demanded.
“What if they want to manipulate events so they can make more money?”
“Let’s say you’re right, and there’s a group of rich businessmen trying to gain control of industry and policy makers. Where would they start?” Kennedy pressed a button to call the elevator to the lobby.
“We know they were behind Marshall Portman’s attempts to stop Marie Wilson’s solar panel—”
“Because everyone would be off the grid.”
“Yes, and the power and oil companies would fold.”
Kennedy gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money right there. But Ben North’s homicide doesn’t connect.”
“Doesn’t it?” The elevator doors dinged open, and they stepped inside. Finn pressed the button for the top floor. “Ackerman owns Pent Up Media. People believe what the news outlets tell them. Do you remember that security guard who found the bomb in the stadium and the press said he’d planted it himself?”
“That was years ago. That poor guy got crucified.”
“He was a hero who was condemned because the newspapers ran with a sensational, but false, story.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t get the relevance.”
“Owning the newspaper and television outlets isn’t enough these days. You have to own the Internet too, beca
use no matter what the papers say, there’ll be someone on social media contradicting them.”
“Still?” She wasn’t convinced.
Finn held up his phone screen so she could see it. “I did some research on the way over here. Tantalum, which is extracted from coltan, is mainly used to manufacture capacitors. Millar wasn’t kidding when he said the stuff was rare. It’s a conflict mineral, which is primarily mined in the Congo. There is a shortage caused by an embargo over human rights violations.”
“So you’re saying this stuff is more valuable than gold.”
“Imagine if you controlled a major ingredient needed to make computers and smartphones.”
“Are we talking about a bid to take over the tech companies?”
Finn nodded. “I think so.”
“But like you said, it wouldn’t matter. You could make all the smartphones you want, and it wouldn’t make a difference because you can’t control the net.”
“I’m not so sure. If you had a monopoly on the manufacture of all computers, smartphones, and other data-collecting equipment, you could put a backdoor in every device, a portal that would allow access without the user’s knowledge.” He tapped his phone with his knuckle. “What if Lance Ackerman and his friends had the power to use our phones to listen in on our conversations? There would be no more freedom. All law enforcement investigations would be compromised. There would be no such thing as doctor-patient confidentiality. And all he has to do to achieve this goal is to take Molly’s Mountain from Ben North.”
Kennedy paled as the scope of Finn’s idea sunk in. “Special Agent Callaghan, you’re the scariest man I ever met.”
