‘‘Oh,’’ I said, ‘‘I’m gonna have to go to Rumsford’s funeral on Monday.’’
‘‘Why so late?’’
‘‘I’m not sure, but I think it took ’em that long to find somebody other than his partner who gave a shit.’’
‘‘Too bad.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ I said, with feeling. ‘‘It sure is.’’ I figured he’d find out where the funeral was going to be shortly. Spice his life up.
The funeral lunch was excellent. I hobnobbed with Volont and Nichols, as well as Al and the other bigwigs. Everybody on their best behavior, polite, smiling. Volont even said I looked good in uniform. I got the impression he would be happier if it were something in, say, Foreign Legion blue… but I could have been wrong.
As soon as I got to the office, I found X1 there, with his laptop. I told him we really, really needed it to monitor something over the weekend, and maybe into Monday, and that I would clear it with Nichols and anybody else who needed to know. Cool with him.
I carted it to the back office, and set it up. Hester came in a few seconds afterward, and saw the laptop.
‘‘X1?’’
‘‘Yeah.’’ I turned it on. ‘‘That should do it.’’
‘‘Be careful, both Volont and Nichols are out front. Paying respects, so to speak.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ and I noticed that we had a message. ‘‘I think,’’ I said, ‘‘we’ve got a contact already.’’
We did, but it wasn’t really impressive.
FROM: AFREEMAN@xii. COMMONCOMMON. COM
TO: STRITCHHERMN@WIDETALK. COM
SUBJECT: RESPONSE
DATE: SATURDAY, JULY 27, 1996 10:21 AM
YES? GABRIEL
That was it. Oh, but it was a start. And we were widening the net, so to speak. This one wasn’t from ‘‘Bravo6,’’ but ‘‘afreeman.’’
Volont knocked on the open door and stuck his head around the corner. ‘‘May I come in?’’
Asking was more than he had done yesterday.
‘‘Sure,’’ I said, folding down the laptop screen. ‘‘Have a seat.’’
George followed him in, looking uncomfortable. ‘‘You too, George,’’ I said.
‘‘I’d better check in…’’ said Hester, starting to excuse herself.
‘‘Oh, please stay,’’ said Volont. ‘‘I insist.’’ He looked at me. ‘‘May we shut the door?’’
‘‘Sure,’’ I said.
Volont gestured to George, who shut the door and then sat on the corner of the desk behind his superior.
‘‘I understand,’’ said Volont, ‘‘that you have some idea about some sort of mission being conducted when they killed the two officers in the woods?’’
George looked guilty as all hell. Well, Volont had probably started to pry. We had known all along that George would have to answer up. The only problem was, neither Hester nor I had any idea how much George had been made to reveal.
‘‘Something like that,’’ I said.
‘‘I’m part of our antiterrorist intelligence unit,’’ said Volont. ‘‘Why don’t you run it by me?’’
‘‘Well,’’ I said, trying to buy a little thinking time, ‘‘Hester and I put this together from the physical evidence, mostly…’’
‘‘Let me save you some time,’’ said Volont. ‘‘Just tell me what you think happened, and we can get to the evidence later, if we need to.’’ He sounded like he was talking to errant children. On purpose, of course. Trying to get us to reveal more than we wanted. He was pretty good.
George looked up and down several times, very quickly. Nodding his eyeballs. It took me a second to realize that this was an affirmative sign.
‘‘Okay. What we believe is this: There was a right-wing group having a training session in the woods; they misidentified the narcotics officers for somebody from, say, your office who they thought were looking at them; they deliberately set out to ambush those officers the next day; a little doper named Turd inadvertently triggered the ambush prematurely, and they had to take him out; and tried for the cops too, because they were too close, to boot. They were going for a classic L ambush, but hadn’t quite got it set.’’ I stopped. George ‘‘nodded’’ his eyeballs again.
‘‘Have you identified this group who was having the training session?’’ asked Volont.
George’s eyeballs began frantically looking from left to right and back again. Shaking his eyeballs ‘‘no.’’
‘‘Not for sure,’’ I said.
‘‘Any leads?’’
George’s eyes went left and right so hard I thought Volont would hear them.
‘‘Not hard leads,’’ I said. I had to stop looking at George, or I was going to burst out laughing.
‘‘You’re being evasive,’’ said Volont in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘‘Yep,’’ I said, just as calm. I smiled.
‘‘I can’t force you to do anything, nor would I wish to do so,’’ said Volont, ‘‘but you might reconsider withholding information. I could be of some help.’’
‘‘I can tell you this,’’ I said. ‘‘Herman Stritch shot Bud and Lamar because he thought they were coming to arrest him for the killing of the two officers in the woods.’’
I glanced at George, and he was near apoplexy.
‘‘Really? Why would he think that?’’ Volont leaned slightly forward, expressing sincere interest for the first time in the conversation.
‘‘Because William Stritch was in the woods, and with the ambush team, most likely as an observer.’’
George put a thumb and forefinger astraddle the bridge of his nose, and began rubbing his eyes in the subtlest way possible, and slowly shaking his head.
‘‘An observer?’’
‘‘Yep.’’ I paused, and said, deliberately, ‘‘Courtesy of his leader.’’
‘‘A leader?’’ said Volont. ‘‘That would be…?’’
I just couldn’t resist, of course. George had turned his back, so I didn’t get the guilt vibes from him anymore.
‘‘They call him Gabriel, but I don’t think that’s his real name.’’
Silence. George coughed after a few seconds.
‘‘Where,’’ said Volont evenly, ‘‘did you come up with that name?’’
I looked him right in the eye. ‘‘I’m not at liberty to tell you that right now. It’s a highly confidential source.’’ And then chickened out, at least partway. ‘‘Should be able to tell you in a couple of days, though.’’
‘‘Hmmm,’’ said Volont. ‘‘So, exactly what do you want from this?’’
Exasperating.
‘‘What I want,’’ I said slowly, ‘‘is this: The person who shot Lamar, Bud, and Rumsford; and I realize there may be at least two shooters here. Then I want the persons who shot Turd and Kellerman in the woods.’’ I leaned back away from the table, tilting my chair onto its back legs. ‘‘That’s what I want. That’s what I’ve always wanted.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Volont. He stood. ‘‘We’ll do everything we can to see you get that,’’ he said. ‘‘And now, I have to be getting along.. .’’ He turned to George. ‘‘May I see you for a moment?’’
As soon as they’d left the room, I looked at Hester. ‘‘He’s gonna be a lotta help.’’
‘‘Right.’’
‘‘Now,’’ I said, ‘‘how we approach Gabriel could be very, very important.’’ I said that I thought Hester should compose the messages from that point on, as she would bring what I hoped would be a convincing female touch to the correspondence.
‘‘What do you want, smiley faces, for Christ’s sake?’’ She glared at me. ‘‘You’re doin’ really good. Just get in touch with your feminine side, Buster, and you’ll be just fine.’’
Like they say, if you tend to rest your elbows on a keyboard, you’re bound to hit the wrong button some of the time.
‘‘Gee,’’ I said contritely, ‘‘I’m sorry, ma’am…’’
‘‘Housema
n,’’ she said slowly, ‘‘you shouldn’t do this when we’re both armed.’’
Point well taken.
The reply to Gabriel, although critical, wasn’t too much of a pressure deal, since we had plenty of time to compose it. After all, it would take Nola some time to get back to her attorney’s laptop. Or some other computer.
‘‘We might think about coming up with another computer for her,’’ I said. ‘‘If we need fast communications.’’
‘‘I don’t expect more than three or four,’’ said Hester. ‘‘But while you’re at it, think about this… Nola is our target, not Billy or Herman.’’
I considered that. ‘‘You’re right. She’s smart, and, like Sally said, may have a little resentment over her position.’’
‘‘Think we can see her?’’ asked Hester. ‘‘Or you think Volont will stop that?’’
‘‘If we go fast,’’ I said, ‘‘before he realizes she’s probably the key, I think we can talk with her. If she’ll talk with us…’’
‘‘I wonder,’’ said Hester, ‘‘what’s become of George?’’
She and I drafted our response, after carefully considering what it would be that Nola would want, and how she could think that Gabriel could possibly help her. At the same time, we wanted to flush Gabriel out, if we could.
TELL HERMAN TO KEEP QUIET. MY LIAR TALKS ABOUT DEALS. I DON’T HAVE MY ADDRESS BOOK.
N
Personally, I thought the ‘‘N’’ was a nice touch. As I said to Hester, I was sure it had come from my feminine side. The ‘‘liar,’’ of course, was extreme-right talk for attorneys. They have a tendency to latch on to an old, and not particularly witty, joke and evolve it into jargon. The lack of an address book was Hester’s idea. That way, we just might be able to ask for an address in the future.
Anyway, we figured that implying that Herman wanted to talk would get Gabriel to make some sort of contact, both to reassure him and to tell him to shut up.
After that, I made a phone call to Melissa Stritch. I told her we really needed to talk with her, about Herman and the dope, and if he was involved with it in any way.
She said he didn’t have anything to do with dope, nor did the rest of the Stritch family. Never. Not at any time. But she would be very happy to come in and chat about it. I told her to plan on tomorrow afternoon.
I talked to Art for permission, changed out of my uniform into blue jeans and a pullover shirt and tennis shoes, and I was on my way to the Linn County jail in Cedar Rapids. The nearest federal holding facility.
Hester was going to spend the rest of the weekend at home, after we talked to Nola. I, naturally, was coming back to Nation County. We had to take two cars. The only bad thing, if you overlook cost to the ubiquitous taxpayer, was that we weren’t able to discuss things on the way down to see Nola. I’m always afraid that I’m going to have a solid thought and forget it before I get someplace… Slim odds, but it could happen.
As soon as we got to the interview room in the Linn County jail, we were met by a man named Victor Miller, attorney-at-law. He wasn’t happy about being there, but there he was. Nola’s ‘‘liar.’’ I noticed that, if he really did own a laptop, it wasn’t with him.
When Nola was brought in, resplendent in jail orange, I was the only familiar face in the room. A slight advantage. I introduced Hester.
‘‘Before we say anything more,’’ said Miller, ‘‘I want Nola to know that she is not required to answer any questions.’’
Nola nodded.
‘‘Maybe,’’ I said, ‘‘I can save us all time.’’ I looked at Miller. ‘‘I assume you want written questions, so you can advise her prior to the asking?’’
‘‘I’d prefer that.’’
‘‘Forget it,’’ said Nola. ‘‘I’m not answering any questions at all.’’
I held up my hand. ‘‘Wait a minute. Hester will write out five or six questions.’’ I looked at Nola and her attorney. ‘‘I’m not going to ask any right now. All I want is to tell Nola what I know, and let her know that.’’ I grinned. ‘‘Sort of a prediscovery discovery, so to speak.’’
‘‘I’ll tell you now that that’s acceptable,’’ said Miller, ‘‘unless I begin to feel it’s an intimidation tactic.’’ He looked at Nola. ‘‘We’ll stop it at that point. Oh, yes, don’t think you can just read back the indictment, to buy time,’’ he said.
‘‘Of course not.’’
Nola had clamped her mouth shut. No matter what happened from now on, she was going to assume her ‘‘liar’’ and I were conspiring against her. Well, that was her business.
‘‘Nola,’’ I said, in my best monotone, ‘‘I want you to know just where things stand. I’m telling you this because, in the next few days, you may be approached by us again, and I want you to be absolutely clear as to what we’re talking about.’’
‘‘I just want to know what that nice insurance lady is doing here,’’ said Nola.
Oops. Hester. Late of Lloyds of London. I’d already introduced her as DCI, and she’d shown Nola her ID.
‘‘That was an authorized ruse, Nola,’’ I said, as matter-of-factly as possible. ‘‘It was done for the sole purpose of saving lives.’’ I looked her squarely in the eye. ‘‘Yours, as well as mine.’’
‘‘Hold it right there,’’ said Miller.
It took about two minutes to explain it to him. I made my points when I said, ‘‘I said I want to let Nola know everything that’s happening. I would have gotten to that. If you think I’m not telling the truth, why would I bring Hester here at all?’’
Now, he might have been thinking ‘‘because you’re so dumb,’’ but he would have been wrong. ‘‘Forgetful’’ is the word he should have used. I had thought of this on the way down. Along with too many other things, apparently.
That out of the way, I began again.
‘‘Nola, what we know is this…’’ I ran through the training exercise, the ambush as well as I could, and told her that we were relying on forensic evidence for some of the reconstruction. I really had Miller’s attention, but I wasn’t sure about Nola. She had large blue eyes that showed absolutely no expression. When I talked to her, I looked right between them most of the time, saving solid eye contact to make specific points. I had the distinct thought that, a few years ago, when her hair would have been black, she must have been very striking. The question of how Herman had ended up with her flickered through my mind.
Then I did the events at her house. The fact that Lamar and Bud were serving a paper which she and Herman should have known was coming. That Herman had shot both the officers. Making it very clear that she, as far as we could tell, had not shot anybody. Not yet. I also threw in the fact that Lamar wanted to ask Herman some questions, as the DCI team had missed him the first time around. All matter-of-fact. All low-key.
Then I did the shooting of Rumsford, and saw her eyes flicker. I said that the angles hadn’t been fully described as yet but we believed that the first shot had come from the second floor and the second shot from the ground floor. Where she was.
At that point, she started to speak and I held up my hand before her attorney did. ‘‘Personally, I don’t think that was you.’’ I looked directly into her eyes. ‘‘But I don’t know for sure, so we won’t talk any more about that aspect of this.
‘‘But now,’’ I said, ‘‘I want to let you know some things you probably think we don’t know. Just to let you be aware…’’
I reached behind me and grabbed the handle of the old square-cornered attache case my grandmother had given me when I went off to college. It looked pretty well worn, but it was still going. It was my favorite. I opened it and got out a couple of sheets of paper, as well as a small case containing my reading glasses. And a small pack of tissue.
‘‘Just a sec here,’’ I said, doing my little nervous act, ‘‘want to be able to read this.’’ I smiled apologetically. You have to be careful with this sort of tactic, because if you let it go a second
too long, you lose their attention, and may never get it back.
I put the glasses on. ‘‘There!’’ I looked over them at Nola. Still had her.
‘‘Okay,’’ I said, looking at the paper in my hand. ‘‘We know your son Billy was with the ambush team, as an observer. But, hey, you knew that. What we also know is all about Borcherding.’’ I paused, looking over my glasses at her again. ‘‘You also know him as ‘Bravo6’, I believe.’’ That hit home.
I looked back down at the paper for an instant. You do that to make sure you’re the one initiating the eye contact. It’s a control thing.
‘‘That brings us,’’ I said slowly, ‘‘to Colonel Gabriel.’’
Nola’s anxiety became audible at that point. Just a little gasp, but it was there.
‘‘Well,’’ said Miller loudly, to break the spell, ‘‘I think we’ve heard about enough at this point… and we seem to be getting well on toward ‘menacing’ here…’’
Perfect. ‘‘Sure,’’ I said, removing my glasses. He’d just saved me. I really wasn’t sure of where I was headed after Colonel Gabriel. ‘‘If Nola has any questions…’’
She did. Now, you have to understand, she didn’t particularly like me, but I appeared to have my shit together, as they say. She didn’t like Miller, didn’t trust him for a whole bunch of reasons, none of which were true anywhere but in her own mind. She also thought he was in my pocket, which was very, very wide of the mark. But she had some pretty solid concerns. She was a very bright woman, but once the paranoid mind-set gets going, it’s virtually impossible to turn it around. A shame, in a way.
‘‘My Bill didn’t shoot anybody. Not in the woods. Not at the house. Nobody.’’
‘‘All right,’’ I said.
‘‘I didn’t either.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I said. I believed her, especially since she’d placed Bill Stritch first on the list.
‘‘What Herman does is his business, but he never shot anybody in the woods.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
Miller started to speak, but she held up her hand. ‘‘Just a minute. He knows Herman shot Lamar and Bud. Nobody else could have.’’ She knew them by name. Well, so much for community policing. But she was right. There was nobody else who could have.
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