by Margaret Kay
“We get proof of how the product is coming in, where it’s kept, or how it gets passed to buyers. It’s usually a hand signal or password that triggers the buy. We get it documented and then send a buyer in with a camera. Or if we interfere with a delivery arriving, then we have the proof obtained through legal means to get the warrant.”
“Unlike my partner, I’m good with a few shortcuts.”
“Yeah, what’s with Vale?” Lambchop asked.
“She’s had a few too many cases kicked by the DA. I personally think the DA is on the side of the perps. There have been too many shenanigans with cases against hardened criminals leading to the dismissal of charges.”
“Bribery?”
Green shrugged. “Or just complicit prosecutors. I don’t know.”
Lambchop thought about that for a second. “Okay, let me loop my team in. I think it’s time to move forward with the next phase.” He tapped out a text message to Shepherd and Cooper advocating for the move. Shepherd text messaged back one word, APPROVED. Cooper’s text came next. He and Jackson would be there in fifteen minutes. They’d run it when they arrived.
With equipment in a bag on Jackson’s lap and a ladder in the back, Lambchop drove the SUV across the street to the strip mall. He parked in front of the convenience store. They entered the beauty shop. A dozen blue-haired women sat in chairs. Several were under big hairdryers. Six or seven sat in chairs facing mirrors with middle-aged stylists making conversation, which halted when the two men entered. All eyes focused on them.
“Can I help you with something, gentlemen?” A black woman in her early sixties called from behind one of the client’s chairs.
“Yes, thank you, ma’am. We need to speak with the owner, please,” Lambchop greeted.
“That would be me,” she said. “I’m Tonnia Dent.”
“In private, please,” Jackson said.
She tapped her client on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back, dearie.” She approached the men, looking aggravated.
Lambchop dropped his voice down to a whisper. Her back was to everyone in the shop. “We are federal agents wishing to use your shop to surveil the shop next door. We’ll show you our badges in the back. Can you please tell your staff and clients we are with your security service and bring us to your back room?”
“Wonderful,” she said with a big smile. “Thank you for coming so quickly. The access panel is in the back room.” She pointed to the back of the store. “I’ll be back to you in a few minutes, Minnie,” she said to the client in her chair as she passed her, leading the men to the door that separated the front of the store from the back. Once behind the closed door she turned to Lambchop and Jackson. “How was that?”
“Ms. Dent, you made an Academy Award worthy performance,” Lambchop said with a grin as Jackson flashed his DEA credentials.
“DEA, I knew it. Those mother-fucking crackheads next door are selling, aren’t they?”
Lambchop saw the smile form on Jackson’s face. He allowed his to form as well. “We’re not sure, ma’am, but we want to use your store to watch them, if that is okay with you.”
“I knew they were up to something! Of course, you can use my shop.”
“We need you to one-hundred percent keep this on the down low,” Lambchop said. “You cannot tell your staff or any clients.”
“Got it,” she guaranteed. “Make yourselves at home. I have coffee on in the kitchen through there,” she pointed to another door. “And the bathroom is through there. The shop closes at eight, but you are welcome to stay as long as you want.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jackson said. “We’ll let you know when we’re done.” He opened the bag and pulled out the equipment.
“Oh, are you going to spy on them? This is great! Will you tell me what you find? The comings and goings next door at all hours, screams that they are up to something,” she repeated.
“Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll fill you in later,” Lambchop said. He put his arm around her and ushered her back to the door that led to the front of the shop. She smiled at him and nestled in close to him fully enjoying his embrace. “Now remember, mum's the word.”
“I promise,” she said, making a motion in front of her mouth like she was zipping her lips.
Lambchop had to chuckle at her after the door was closed behind her. “That lady is feisty. I like her. She reminds me of my momma.”
Jackson laughed. He had the mini drill and the fish wire laid out. “Does your momma swear like that too?”
“Okay, she’s like my momma minus the mother-fucking,” Lambchop admitted.
“And does your momma flirt with you like she was?”
Lambchop chuckled. “What can I say, women of all ages like me.” He stood on the ladder and popped the drop ceiling beside the wall that ran between the beauty shop and the smoke shop. “Just as the building plans depicted this isn’t a firewall,” he whisper-spoke pulling his head from the ceiling space. “Hand me that meter.” He pointed to the bag. “And call Coop. I’ll be ready for him by the time he gets here.”
Jackson handed him the device and then sent a text to Cooper to advise that they were in position and ready for him to enter the smoke shop as the distraction.
Lambchop traced the wires, finding the one he wanted. He tapped into the line with the camera and mic feed. He moved the scant amount of insulation and found he was at the back plate of the light fixture. The end of the fluorescent tube was barely visible to him. All he could see was the glow.
Jackson’s voice came through his comms. “Hold position. It’s nearly there.” There was a pause that lasted a few seconds. “Okay, ease it forward. Cooper is in the shop.” Lambchop pressed it forward gently until he heard Jackson. “Freeze right there and secure it.” Lambchop wiggled his other hand into the space with the piece of black electrical tape. He taped the wire in place and then grabbed the second piece from his watch. “Ease the nose down slightly, maybe five degrees,” Jackson instructed.
After a few adjustments, Jackson finally said it was in a good position. Lambchop added a final piece of tape. He extricated himself from the cramped ceiling. He climbed down the ladder and took the computer tablet from Jackson to see what the camera view was for himself. “Looks good, got good coverage of the entire shop.”
“And the sound is adequate too,” Jackson said. He pulled the earbud from his ear that did not house his comms and then replaced it.
Lambchop watched Cooper gesturing and talking with Nate Ramos. Dawn Spinks was nowhere in sight. “What’s Cooper telling him?”
Jackson chuckled. “He’s claiming to be from the local Rotary Club, is inviting Ramos to join their group of community business owners. And he is telling him about all the great community humanitarian projects they are working on, including sponsoring addicts in a faith-based drug rehab program.”
Lambchop laughed. “Cooper has a sick sense of humor. I’ll shoot him the text and let him know the camera is installed.” He tapped it out, then watched Cooper check his cell phone and replace it in his pocket. Cooper nonchalantly glanced up at the camera, made more small talk with Ramos, said his goodbyes, shook Ramos’ hand, and then he left the shop.”
“Faith-based rehab, huh?” Lambchop broadcast.
Cooper’s chuckle came through his comms. “That was for you, knew you’d appreciate it.”
The men returned to the house across the street just as Linda Vale was getting dropped off by another set of agents. They entered through the back together. Green did a quick turnover to her and then he left. He’d get a ride out of the neighborhood from the car that brought Vale in.
“This is what we do to get proof,” Lambchop told her in response to her pissed off facial expression upon learning that they had installed a camera and mic. “They will never know about the surveillance we installed next door. Even the woman who owns the beauty shop doesn’t know what we installed in the ceiling. Once we see how the product is sold, we send one of us in with a camera and d
o a buy. That is on film and gets us the warrant.”
“We’ve got nothing concrete. It was time,” Cooper seconded. “Now we watch and listen.”
The remainder of the night showed no drug sale activity. The store closed at twenty-two hundred. Lambchop was relieved at zero one hundred hours by Sloan and Sherman. He went back to the hotel and went to bed in their room.
Charlie
On early Saturday afternoon when Lambchop returned, it didn’t take long for back-to-back buyers to give them what they needed. They watched as a twitchier than hell dude with long stringy hair entered the store and went to the middle of the display cabinet at the rear of the shop. He tapped on the glass three times. Ramos reached under the cabinet, below the displayed items and pulled out something, dropping it into a small brown bag. The buyer met him at the cash register. He paid and Ramos put the cash into his pocket.
The process repeated with a second man, an older, blue-collar looking dude. The mic feed picked up both men asking for the white pipe on the top row of the cabinet. About an hour later, a middle-aged woman in scrubs came in and did the same, however, she asked for the blue pipe. Ramos provided the same little brown bag from the same location.
“Different colors for different drugs?” Lambchop suggested.
“I’d like to send two of us in to ask for different pipes. I’ll bet you white gets you heroin, blue, fentanyl,” Cooper said.
“I haven’t been in,” Vale volunteered.
“We have to assume all local DEA are burned,” Lambchop replied.
“If we alter my appearance enough, I can pull it off. I like the scrubs that last woman wore. I could wrap a wide headband or a scarf around my head too.”
“Call whoever you need to get the disguise,” Cooper told her.
“They haven’t seen me yet either,” Lambchop said. “Blue-collar works for me too. I’ll put something in my shirt to make what looks like a beer gut bulge over my belt,” Lambchop said with a chuckle.
Cooper chuckled too. “Fat Lambchop goes in.”
The twitchy dude had walked to the strip mall. But the two others drove. They ran their plates. Otis Black was a forty-two-year-old construction worker. He looked much older, at least fifty-five. And Oriana Quinn was a thirty-one-year-old licensed practical nurse at a nearby assisted living facility. She too looked older than her years. They had the information they needed in case Ramos questioned them. Certainly, Ramos knew his buyers and would recognize that Vale and Lambchop were not his regular customers.
Two hours later, Lambchop and Mother watched Linda Vale walk into the smoke shop through the surveillance equipment. Lambchop said a silent prayer for her safety. Cooper and Jackson were situated as backup in the strip mall parking lot, parked in front of the bar and grill at the far end. Through the camera feed from the unit planted in the ceiling, they watched her walk up to the same display cabinet the others had. She tapped three times as the others had and asked for the white pipe.
Nate Ramos eyed her suspiciously. “You have a referral to my shop?”
“Yes, a friend I work with at The Pines.”
“Her name?” Ramos asked.
“I don’t know you. I’m not giving you that, and I’m not giving you mine either. You either can sell me the pipe or you can’t.” She stared him down.
Lambchop was impressed. Linda Vale was fierce under pressure. She pulled a few bills from her pocket and held them in her hand on top of the display case. Ramos eyed the bills and his gaze bounced back to Linda’s face. He reached below the case and dropped a pack of something into a small bag. Vale followed him to the cash register near the door. He took the bills, handed her the bag, and then stuffed the bills into his pocket.
“Thank you,” Vale said curtly before exiting the store.
They waited for her to return to the surveillance house. She handed over a bag with a dozen oxycodone pills in it. “So, Oxy is a white pipe.” She took the camera and mic, which was imbedded in a button, from her jacket and handed it to Mother. He got busy concealing it on Lambchop. “I don’t know if you saw how wary he was. I wasn’t sure he was going to sell to me. FYI, he had a gun peeking out of the waistband of his jeans, didn’t even try to hide it.”
“Good to know,” Lambchop said.
“Be careful,” Linda warned. “Two strangers in one day might just push him over the edge.”
“Thank you for your concern. I’m always careful.” He left the house and took the other vehicle. When he pulled up in front of the smoke shop, he took a second and said a silent prayer for a successful operation with no injuries. His weapon was at the small of his back. He didn’t want to have to use it. He entered the smoke shop, acknowledged Ramos, and went right to the display case the others had. Ramos met him there. He tapped the glass three times. “Can I see the blue pipe?”
“Blue?” Ramos asked. “I’d peg you for more of a white pipe kind of guy.”
“I use several pipes, need a blue one today.” Lambchop focused his gaze on him. Ramos seemed twitchy. It looked like it was coming up on the time for him to get a fix.
“I don’t think so,” Ramos finally said.
“My buddy, Big O referred me here to buy my new pipe. Fuckers hit my regular shop.”
“I don’t know a Big O,” Ramos said.
“Yes, you do. He was going to come in earlier today, don’t know if he made it in or not. I guess I should have come in with him when we got off, but I had a couple of stops I had to make when we left the jobsite.”
Ramos’ eyes traveled over Lambchop’s face and then down his torso, focusing on his belly for a second. Then his gaze came back and met Lambchop’s. “Let me see your green.”
Lambchop took two twenties from his pocket and held them against the glass top of the display case near his body. Ramos still looked guarded.
“Double that and I’ll sell you the pipe,” Ramos said after a long pause. Lambchop nodded. “And didn’t Big O tell you the store hours? You’re about a half hour late. Next time, get in here before four on a Saturday.”
Lambchop shrugged. “I don’t recall hours. I’ll touch bases with him, though.”
Ramos reached beneath the display case and produced a small brown paper bag. Lambchop followed him to the cash register and handed him the eighty dollars. He took the small bag with him and went to the vehicle. Inside, he saw blue pills. They’d most likely test out as fentanyl. He drove back to the house across the street. By the time he’d entered, Dawn Spinks was in the front of the store. He wondered if the hours Ramos spoke about were when Dawn was not in the store. Maybe she was not part of the operation, though he doubted Ramos could be running it without her knowledge.
They ran a quick field test. The pills popped positive for fentanyl. “He ripped me off. It cost me eighty.”
Jackson chuckled. “Consider it a service fee for showing up after hours.” He clicked on the equipment keyboard. “These two tapes and the field test results should be plenty to get us our warrant.”
Vale sent the tapes and conversed with her boss on her phone. At nineteen hundred, Lambchop watched the open sign flip to closed and the store lights dimmed. “I hope Vale’s boss will get the warrant and give us the green light to execute it tonight. I’m thinking around midnight,” Lambchop told Cooper and Jackson.
At twenty-one hundred, Vale was notified that the warrants for both the smoke shop and the house in Laurelhurst were issued. There would be a pre-raid briefing at the DEA garage across town at twenty-two hundred. Lambchop placed a call to Sloan and Sherman, waking them up. He gave them the address to the DEA garage.
Lambchop drove with Mother seated beside him. Mother was on his cell phone with Annaka. “Love you too, babe,” Mother said into his phone and then disconnected the call. “Annaka is doing so much better today. I’m glad I didn’t send her back to Chicago on commercial.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She had to feel rocked by what happened.”
“I know you made mission assignments t
o allow me to spend more time with her. Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“I know you do. I’ll work you harder on the next Op,” Lambchop said with a laugh. He pulled into the garage. No less than six other vehicles were parked there. A group of about fifteen men and women sporting DEA windbreakers milled around a table with a large monitor and two easels with maps flanking it. “Looks like this will be some party.”
“Yeah. I’m going to assume the guy with the pointer is the agent in charge.” He chuckled. “How come they all look the same?”
Lambchop laughed. “I think we’ve been doing this too long. We’re starting to sound jaded.”
“No, Vale is the one who is jaded. I think I would have to be too if the DA kicked as many cases as she’s said have been kicked of hers. It sucks. You get a scumbag dead to rights and they decide not to prosecute. If people weren’t dying from the shit, it wouldn’t matter much.”
