by Doug Ball
The standing crowd applauded and dispersed.
“Let me tell you about that crowd we just left,” the former Governor said.
Chief Robinson let a large smile grow on his face as he walked behind the two women. Two of his men were not more than 30 feet on either side and two were posted up ahead.
Tan had heard of the swearing in and assumption of office on the radio and turned toward the capital to brief the new Governor if she wanted. Two blocks away, he changed his mind. She would have enough to do without him getting in the middle of it. He went back to I-10 and headed south as he and Matarese discussed the case, the emails, and next steps.
Arriving in Tucson, he changed directions again. He called the Inn and asked them to hold the rooms before he stopped at a major chain motel, ordered three rooms as close together as possible and booked a conference room for the next morning, with coffee and sweet rolls of some kind, donuts would do.
He had given Gravit a list of phone numbers to copy from his phone as he called their names to her during the drive. Now he said, “Call all those numbers and ask them to be here in the morning at ten. See you in the morning.” He took the folder of emails and notes and retired to his room where he called out for pizza and began reading.
He hadn’t read three emails again when his throw away phone buzzed on the desk. “San José.”
“San Gabriella. I have news for you.”
Tan grabbed his note pad, “Go ahead, my friend.”
“The wife of the driver of the truck in Naco says her husband did not steal the truck. He was hired to drive it north because he had the license to do so. He told her they were rich and tossed two thousand dollars in dollars on her lap as he left the house. Some gringo, her words, was dumb enough to pay him to take the truck to a depot in Tucson. There would be a car waiting in Tucson to bring him home. He was told the load was legal and no laws would be broken. She did add that he would have driven it even if it were illegal, they were broke and needed the money.”
“Interesting. A one way ride in the driver’s seat.”
“How’s she taking all this?”
“She is happy. She has money and no more husband. She is still young and nice looking.”
“Did you get anything out of your captive?”
“No. He died on us. I do not think he had anything we needed when he died. He was hired out of some bar where veteran soldados meet to drink and share war stories. The pay was good and he needed the money. His ex-wife was draining him. Car payments and all that. We have buried him honorably.”
“That’s about all we have, except one of ours has escaped to Tucson and is currently under watch. We will see if he leads us to anything new or just keeps running.”
“That is good.”
“I am having a little get together of all parties on this case in the morning in Tucson. You are invited if you’d like to come over.” Tan gave him the hotel name.
“Would that be wise, my friend?”
“I could introduce you as a friend from Yuma or some such thing.”
“I will come in civvies. Time?”
“Come at nine and I will buy you a great breakfast of good solid gringo food.”
“Oh, yummie. I will be there in the lobby.”
“10-4.”
Tan went back to reading as he laid the phone on the desktop.
Santa Rita Mountains
Brad sat in front of his fire contemplating his next move. Jacob would arrive the next morning if all went according to plan. His neighbor would be keeping him posted by text on the safety of his home. The neighbor thought he was a secret agent in the drug war and gave him the opportunity to use her whenever he needed to. She was sworn to secrecy on penalty of death by his agency and he knew he could count on her if anyone visited his home while he was gone. He’d give it at least a week before returning. It would all depend on what he heard on the radio.
In the mean time he’d have to find a softer rock to sit on.
Phoenix
The Colonel called his contact number. It did not ring. “The number you have dialed is not available and has a voicemail that is not set up. Please try again later.”
“Not available. The money I pay him should make him available.”
A call to a second number got the same response except the voice mail worked, “You are not doing as I told you, sergeant. I need you. Call.”
He put his phone on a coffee table before kneeling on his rug and bowing to Mecca.
Flagstaff
“Look, I don’t care if it is your jurisdiction. The governor has sent us up here to assist you. The Sheriff has given us the task of finding these crooks. We work seven days a week and it being Sunday just does not change our schedule. I’m sorry, but I need that information on the prints that you got from the car. You have had that for two days and it should be matched by now. Just give me a name and I’ll do the rest through my own channels.” Chuck had been playing these games since the train robbery.
“Sir. There is no one here with the authority to release that information.”
“Find someone and do it quickly, please. We have a bird in Kingman that is chirping and spending a lot of money he didn’t have a week ago. Our contact says this man is a homeless vet who is always mooching off of friends. Now he impresses them with lots of green. Who can I call to get that release of information?”
“The Sheriff.”
The line went dead.
Chuck spoke into the air, “That would be great, except this is the number I have for the Sheriff, the one he gave me. Oh well. I’ll just go check this out and if I hear one word that says ‘I’m your man’ I will arrest the guy and take him in.”
The man standing next to him turned to go to the car. Chuck followed.
Kingman
Chuck rolled the car into the turnoff he had marked on his map. “It ain’t much further,” said his navigator. “The map shows a couple of slight turns and then a right and we’re there.” The Aussie voice on the GPS told him to turn right ‘and your destination will be on the left.’ It was an old stucco covered house with at least three windows covered with cardboard. The color was supposed to be Desert Sand, but the years had modified the color to a pale pink. There was no sign of life.
“Wilson, you take the back door. I’ll give you time to get around back and then I’ll announce my presence. Nobody leaves.”
“Gotcha. Be careful. That front door doesn’t look like much.”
“You be careful. If this place is rigged like I think it is, there will be no door in the back or it will be hanging open.”
“I’m gone.” Wilson disappeared around the side of the house as Chuck made for the front door. Standing beside the door, he waited. When he figured Wilson had enough time he reached over and pounded on the door which swung open. “Police. Come out with your hands in plain sight and empty. I just want to talk to you.”
He waited.
He repeated his call. “Come on out. Make it easy on both of us.”
No response.
He entered, fast and low, gun leading the way. “Wilson, I’m inside.”
“Comin’.”
They met in the arch between living room and kitchen and moved down the hall way clearing each room as they went. The bath room stunk of the feces and urine that filled the bathtub to just short of the top. Maggots and other unnamed creepy crawlies moved in and on the mass. The master bedroom contained a mattress on the floor. On that mattress, a man and a woman, both naked laid sound asleep or dead. Wilson checked the adjoining bathroom to find the same kind of mess that was in the hall bath. Chuck moved around to check for weapons and breathing.
The woman’s eyes came open. “Who are you?”
“Police.” He held out his badge.
One of her eyes was black and blue. There was a larger bruise on her left ribcage. Chuck thought she might have been pretty at one time, but not anymore. Dirt was crusted in the wrinkles; her hair was the color of straw and a tang
led, filthy mess. The only part of her that he could see that looked clean was the area around a hickey on her neck.
“Please get up and cover yourself. We want to talk to the man with you if his name is Manny.”
She kicked the body next to her. “Manny, wake up. The cops are here and want you.” She got up grabbing what was once a colorful sun dress, tossing it over her head and pulling it down her body before walking into the bathroom and relieving herself in the tub.
“Ah, that feels better,” she said as she came out. Grabbing a huge purse full of everything she owned, she headed for the door. “I don’t do cops. Catch ya later.”
“Ma’am. I need you to stand very still and put that bag down. We want to talk with you also.”
“Why? I ain’t done nothin’.”
“Just set the bag down and move to the corner. Have a seat. What’s your name?”
She took on a flirty stance, “They call me Curly cuz I got such curly hair. Ain’t ya gonna search me first. All the cops in town do.” She sat the bag down, assumed the position at the wall, and giggled.
“Miss Curly, I’ve seen all there was to see of you and a lot I didn’t want to see,” Wilson replied. “Just take a seat in the corner there while we check out lover boy.”
“His name is Manny, not Loverboy.”
“Yes, ma’am. Just sit.”
Chuck kicked the man’s feet, “Come on, Manny, wake up. We want to talk to you.”
The body on the mattress rolled a bit and pull its feet up. “Uuuuuu,” it said.
“Manny, the cops are here. Get up you bum.” Curly yelled.
“Miss Curly, you just be quiet and we might just let you go. You keep interrupting and I’ll haul you in.”
“Haul me in. Then I get three hots and a cot for free. No more places like this castle and no more having men, ha, like this one pawing me just to make a living. It ain’t easy bein’ a woman alone, ya know?”
Chuck kicked again, “Wake up, Manny. I want to talk with you.” As he did, he saw what appeared to be fairly new camos on the floor in the closet. They were the older green on green forest camo the witnesses to the robbery had described.
“Let me alone. I need to sleep. Take a couple bucks from my pants and get us some coffee.”
“I don’t want coffee. I want to talk with you about a train. We can do it here or at the jail house.”
“Wha? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” His eyes came wide open in fear and he sat up trying to cover himself.
Chuck pulled the trousers from the closet and checked the pockets, dropping their contents on the floor near the door. He found a wallet in a leg pocket. The driver’s license identified the man on the floor as Manfred Crouts. “You Manfred Crouts, otherwise known as Manny?”
“Yeah, so what. You ain’t got no warrants on me,” he paused like he was thinking, “do you?”
“No warrants, yet. How much did you get for the train robbery, Manny? You been spending big.”
“Them jerks didn’t …” he stopped, looked around at the two men and Curly in the corner. “What train robbery?”
“Get up, Manny. We’re goin’ places.”
Chuck dug in Manny’s wallet for two twenties and tossed them to Curly. “Here, Curly. Go get your hair done or something.”
She said, “Gee, thanks. I need a new dress. That jerk tore this one last night. My nails need done and I’m hungry.”
“Forty bucks will get you a good meal and a new dress at Wal-Mart. Your next boy friend can get you the rest.”
“Nah. These clowns around here ain’t got no money. Manny was my way out of this dumpy town. We was going to San Francisco.”
“Shut up, you two bit tramp,” Manny said in a low voice as he started to get up.
“Sit, Manny.”
“Take your stuff and get out, Curly.” Wilson was feeling sick from the stink in the house.
She grabbed her bag and skipped out the front door saying, “Bye, sucker, I’m outta here, off to get fixed up.”
Manny looked at the cops, “She doesn’t mean a manicure, either.”
“Manny, my boy, let’s take a ride. Stand up, put these pants on, and assume the position.”
“Dumb cop. You done seen all of me and frisked my trou, what more you wantin’?”
“For your enlightenment, I want to search the rest of the clothes in that closet and the house. Do what I told you and we’ll get along fine. If you don’t I’ll cuff you to the tree out front and then get it done. You’re in trouble, don’t make it worse.”
“Dumb cops,” he grumbled, but he did what he was told.
All they found in the clothes or the house was filth, and one ball point pen with a scrap of paper wrapped around the ink cartridge inside the body. On the paper was a phone number.
“Who’s number is this, Manny?”
22
“A friend’s.”
“What friend?”
“Just another GI looking for work like me.”
“Work heisting trains and such, Manny?”
“Naw, we just do home repairs and yard work. Last week we painted a house and that’s where I got the money.”
“You got over two thousand bucks for painting a house?”
“Yeah, it was a big house. Took us all day.”
“Okay, put your hands behind your back, we’re goin’ for a ride. You are under arrest.” Chuck read him his rights and then walked him to the car.
Wilson did a final look around in the house, finding a pistol under the sink tied to the water lines with wire wraps. Using his pocket knife he carefully cut the wraps and let the gun fall to the disturbed dust on the bottom of the cabinet. He pulled a large plastic bag from his pocket and placed the semi-auto in it. Jotting a note on the white part of the bag before he carried it out to the car.
“Lookie what I found, Chuck.”
“Nice.”
Tucson
Tan looked around the room. There was a lot of firepower and knowledge looking at him expectantly. His friend, One, sat in a back corner sipping coffee from an insulated paper cup and sucking up on his second donut. The low mumble of many voices reminded Tan of the briefings he attended before they went on patrol or into battle during his war as a Marine. He was waiting for the representative from Cochise County.
A phone rang. He saw Matarese answer his phone and step into the hall. Putting her in charge of all communications had relieved him of many wasted minutes talking in unnecessary conversations. If it was an important call for him, she would hand him his phone to do the talking. When it was just information, she would make notes and add them to the pile. When he got around to reading it, he put a scribbled B on the bottom the page. Simple streamlining of his work. He was reviewing a few of those pages when she walked back in and handed him his phone.
“Tan.”
Chuck told him of his find.
“Keep me posted.” Tan hung up and handed the phone back to Matarese. He really hadn’t given it much thought until he watched the male heads in the swivel as they followed the deputy’s path as she left the room. She was a good looking woman, tall, dark hair, very well built, and a very feminine walk. ‘It’s the gray eyes that draw these guys,’ he thought.
“Tan.” The voice calling his name broke that train of thought.
“What?” he turned to find the undersheriff from Cochise standing in front of him.
“She is a nice looking deputy, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, just realized that. But, there’s no time for sightseeing. Have a seat. Glad you could make it.”
“I got hung up in road work on the Ten.”
Tan walked to the podium with his notes. “Lady,” he bowed to Sara, “and gentlemen. Thanks for coming. We are ready to start. Grab a cuppa and whatever else you need it’s time to wrap up this mess.”
He waited until they got seated or at least quiet and then brought them up to date on all information, listed the leads, and ended his intro with the news f
rom Chuck. “Therefore, we are tentatively considering the shootings in the south, the train robbery, the downed power lines, the Sky Walk fall, and all the bomb scares to be a result of one focal point. It may be one person or a group, but we feel now that it will all come together and point in one direction as it continues to unravel.”
“My assistant has copies of all pertinent info for you as you leave. She has my phone and hers. Her number is,” he turned and wrote it on the white board. “That number is only for official business. She is not available for anything else. Her husband is a linebacker for the Cardinals, and is a very jealous man.”
The room went silent.
“Let’s hear from you. Anybody got any additional info?”
Two hours later they scattered, each knowing what the others were willing to share. Tan had listened to all their info and questions. Matarese had taken notes. There was a feeling of accomplishing something positive amongst the players.
Tan walked back to One and said, “Let’s go do lunch. Mexican food okay with you?”
“The breakfast was good, how about a steak? The Mexican food this side of the border has no bite.”
“Let’s go.”
He turned to his assistant. “You want to join us?”
“I will never pass up a free meal. And, where did you get the idea I was married, let alone to a linebacker?”
“Figured it would keep the wolves away.”
“Nice. Let’s go.”
One was laughing as they exited the building.
Tank and Abdul walked out of the greasy spoon they ate breakfast in and headed even further south. They were tired of bar hopping and the taste of beer. The one vet bar they found had turned out to be a gay vet bar. It took them over two hours of to get out of the place without offending any of the patrons. Being hit on isn’t something either of them was comfortable with. They did get one nugget of information when one of the patrons asked Abdul if he had ever been in the Jungle bar in Sahuarita. The man said that’s where the tough ones liked to go.
