“Sharon,” Rudy said. “She called me this morning raising hell.”
“Who’s Sharon?”
“My wife,” Steve said.
“She thinks you have some kind of vendetta for Steve and you’re targeting him and her family,” Rudy continued.
“Why would she think that?” Sean asked. “As I said, I could have arrested every person there last night if I wanted to.”
“Steve is one of the suspects in the murder of Boyd Thacker,” Rudy began, ticking off his fingers. “You’ve questioned Steve twice more after your officer questioned him, once at the plant in front of his employees. You stated in front of us both that he’d be the first person you’d arrest for questioning. Now you bring Ryan home in the back of a police car. Yeah, I can see where she might get that idea.”
“Let me explain some things to you, mayor. One. Consumption of alcoholic beverages in the park is prohibited unless they had a permit. Somehow, I don’t think that was likely. Two. The park was closed; therefore, they were trespassing. Three. Ryan admitted to providing the beer to minors and was himself under age. That carry’s possible jail time. Four. Ryan was clearly in no condition to drive. What if he’d been involved in a collision? You want to explain to someone why the Brunswick PD overlooked underage drinking because one of them happened to be the son of a city councilman? Or perhaps I should have arrested everyone but Ryan? Five. Questioning people who were seen at the scene of a crime is standard police procedure. Are you saying I shouldn’t question Steve just because he’s a member of the city council? And lastly, as I recall, it was you, mayor, that was pushing me to arrest someone for questioning.”
“Sean, I know you’re in a difficult spot,” Rudy said. “But you can’t go around being so heavy handed.”
“Heavy handed? So quietly taking the kids home is being heavy handed?”
Rudy sighed in clear exasperation. “All I’m saying is, you don’t have to go out looking for trouble. The kids were just out having a few beers. Ryan only had one. He—”
“Is that what he said?”
“Yes,” Steve said. “I know he shouldn’t have been out drinking, and he especially shouldn’t have been giving beer to minors, but I don’t know that you had to bring him home in a patrol car.”
“I assure you, Mr. Locoste, Ryan had more than one beer.”
“How do you know? Did you test him?” Rudy asked.
“No, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Because he’s underage, even if he did only have one beer, I would have still had to have taken him home, or taken him to the station. Would you have preferred picking him up at the station?” Sean asked, looking at Steve.
“No, of course not,” Steve replied.
“So, what’s the problem here?”
“The problem, Sean, is Sharon Locoste used to be Sharon Millbrooke,” Rudy explained.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“The Millbrookes are the most influential family in town. They’ve donated land to the city for several projects and are one of the city’s largest benefactors.”
“So, that means her son gets a pass?”
“No, that means I expect you to handle certain situations with tact,” Rudy said.
“Tact? As in just, you know, overlook certain things?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all,” Rudy said. “But did you have to take him home in a squad car? Why couldn’t you have called his mom and dad to come get him. All the kids for that matter?”
“It was two o’clock in the morning. I hardly think anyone noticed.” He looked at Steve. “You really think me calling you in the middle of the night and telling you to come get your kid before I arrested him is better than what I did?”
Steve frowned. “No, but he clearly wasn’t drunk and—”
“Allow me to remind you, in North Carolina, if you’re under twenty-one, it’s illegal to consume alcohol. The minute the wheels turned on his truck, I would have been obligated to arrest him for DUI.” Sean looked at Rudy. “Unless you’re telling me I should have just looked the other way.”
“Sean, I’m just saying Bill would have—”
“I’m not Bill,” Sean interrupted, his tone making it clear he was tired of having to remind people of that.
Rudy glared at him. “No, no you’re not. Thank you, chief. That’s all.”
Sean gave Rudy and Steve a perfunctory nod as he rose and walked out of the office. He trotted down the steps, sat down in his patrol car, and rubbed his forehead. He could feel a massive headache coming on.
“Mayberry my ass,” he muttered as he started his car and backed out of the parking space.
Brunswick was worse than Boston for the meddling of politicians… and that was saying something. While he could understand that Rudy saw it as his duty to listen to the concerns of the citizens of Brunswick, what he couldn’t understand was his unwillingness to stand up for what he knew was right. If Rudy didn’t like Sharon Locoste complaining about him bringing her son home in the back of a squad car, how would he like it if people found out city council members, and their families, got special treatment? That wasn’t a conversation he’d want to have, and he suspected Rudy felt the same way, or would if it ever came up.
He hardened his resolve as he wheeled the cruiser into the station parking lot. So long as he was chief, everyone would be treated the same, regardless of who they were. If Mayor Rudy Klinger didn’t like it, he could stuff it and find himself a new police chief.
Twenty-Two
“Sean? Maggie Neese.”
“Good afternoon, Maggie,” Sean said. “What can I do for you?”
“Steve is here again.”
“It’s only been two weeks since he was there last.”
“I know. That’s why I called.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“No. I didn’t know if I should.”
“You did the right thing. Don’t do anything. I’ll be right there.”
He hung up the phone and rose. As Ian Fleming said, ‘Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.’ Steve Locoste was dumping for a third time when he should have only been there once. Something was off.
He hadn’t looked at the Thacker case in more than a week, since the night he trotted the kids home in the back of the police car. The case had become stone cold, but now he had a break. Steve’s dumping pattern had changed. Why?
He quickly walked through the lobby. “Have to check on something, Claire. Be back later,” he called as he banged out through the lobby door and hurried to his car.
As he drove to the plant he thought about what he wanted to say to Steve, and then decided not to say anything. If this was the break he was looking for, he didn’t want to spook him. He would talk to Maggie first and find out if there was any legitimate reason for Steve to be back again so soon, and then take it from there.
If Maggie had something, he could use that to pressure Steve. If she didn’t, he could always talk to him later if he decided it was necessary. The last thing he wanted to do was go in, guns blazing, only to find out there was a simple and logical explanation. The Locoste situation was still a touchy subject. He and Rudy had reached an uneasy peace, and he didn’t want to mess that up.
He pulled to a stop between two of the yard trucks in front of the wastewater plant admin building, using the bulk of the pickups to help hide his car. His car was unmarked, with its emergency strobes hidden, so it didn’t stand out like a regular patrol car, but every little bit of discretion helped.
He stepped out of his car and, for a moment, watched Steve standing beside his truck. Steve was on the far side of the plant, and it was difficult to see clearly, but he appeared to be looking at something in his hand, probably a phone, as his truck unloaded. He certainly didn’t act like someone trying to hide something.
Maggie was standing inside the door as he entered. “Thanks for calling me,” he said as the door slowly swung shut behind him.
>
“I didn’t know if it would help or not, but I figured better safe than sorry.”
“No, this may be the break I was looking for. Any idea why he’s back already?”
“No.”
“How unusual is it for him to be back so soon?”
She nodded her head down the hall. He followed her into her office, and then she closed the door.
“Very,” she replied as she circled behind her desk and sat down. “I checked to make sure I was remembering right after I called you. I was. Every six to eight weeks was his norm. Now he’s been here three times in six weeks, four times in nine, if you count the last load he dumped before the body was found.”
“Any reason you can think of to explain the change in his routine?” he asked as he sat down.
“Oh sure. He could be drawing down his storage tank for some reason. They screwed up a production run. His production could be up. He changed his formula or procedures and he’s generating more waste. It could be something else. Normally I wouldn’t have even thought about it, except what you said about patterns stuck with me.”
He gave her a nod. “Any spikes in the river test?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. It rains, we see spikes, but those are expected.”
“I’m going to ask you some questions. Can I trust you to keep them in the strictest confidence?”
She gazed at him a moment, her eyes wide. “What kind of questions?”
“Theoretical at this point.”
“I guess, why?”
“You’ll understand when you hear the questions. Do I have your word?”
“Yes.”
“The stuff Steve is dumping, could it cause the fish kills?”
“It’s an organic waste, so sure, if there was enough of it.”
“Would it take a lot?”
“Define ‘a lot?’”
“A truck load. A truck the size of Steve’s.”
She sat back, her eyes wider still. “You think Steve is dumping illegally?”
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t think anything. I’m just asking questions.”
She paused, clearly thinking about it.
“I’m not sure. I’d guess it’s right at the limit. If the conditions were right, yeah, it probably would.” She continued to watch him. “I see where you’re going with this.”
“Does it fit all the facts?”
She paused again. “Yes. But why would he do that? It makes no sense.”
“Follow the money. What do you charge him to dump a load?”
“We charge based on the amount of BOD contained in the waste. If I remember right, we charge him a thousand dollars a load. That’s for a full truck.”
“BOD… something Oxygen Demand, right? Biological?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall what she’d told him.
“Biochemical. The measure of how much oxygen the bugs in the water need to breakdown the waste.”
“So, if he disposes of three loads for every one he brings here, he’s saving three grand. If he does that eight or nine times a year, that’s twenty-seven thousand dollars. In a couple of years, he’s saved enough to buy a pretty nice new car. In ten years, over a quarter of a million.”
“Why would he take the risk, though? That makes no sense. If he gets caught, the fines would wipe out any savings he’s had, and he could go to jail.”
“People don’t think they’ll get caught. How long have these kills been going on?”
“I don’t know. Years.”
He looked at her with a faint smile.
“You think Thacker caught him dumping?” she asked.
“Think about it. No spikes in the river since Thacker turned up dead and Steve has been here two or three times more often than normal. It all fits.”
“It does fit, but you’re accusing a city councilman of illegal dumping.”
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything, yet. But for the first time in this case we have opportunity and motive.”
“If you’re right, how are you going to prove it?”
“That’s a different problem, but at least now I have something to pursue.”
Maggie slowly shook her head. “Sean, you need to be careful with this. This will cause a huge stink. You’d better be sure.”
“This is all theoretical at the moment. I have no evidence he’s done anything wrong and I’m not going to accuse him of anything unless I’m sure. But I think a little more checking on Mr. Locoste is in order. Who would I talk to if I wanted to find all the places where a truck like Steve’s could get to the river?”
“I showed you where we sampled.”
“I know, but I mean someplace more private. Someplace you’re not likely to be seen.”
“For illegal dumping?” she asked.
He smiled and pointed a finger at her.
“Let me ask around.”
“Keep the why to yourself. Tell them I’m looking for…” He paused, twisting his lips to the side as he tried to think of a plausible excuse.
“Kids partying?” she suggested.
He grinned. “Perfect! Yeah, we’ve had complaints of kids out cutting boats loose and tearing up property.”
She smiled. “I’m sure someone around here would know, or knows someone who does.”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
“What are you looking for?”
“At the moment, is it even conceivable there is a place this could happen? If there isn’t a place, or I can’t find it, if everyplace is too public, or too easily seen, or too rough for his truck to get into, I can drop it right there. I’m not convinced it is Steve, but I’ve finally got something to work with.”
“I understand.”
“Thanks.” He stood and looked out the window, craning his neck to see the dump pit, but it wasn’t possible from his angle. “He should be about done. I wonder if he’s left already? I don’t want him to know I was here, if possible.”
“Want me to check?”
“Would you? Thanks.”
“Wait here,” she said as she stood and stepped out of her office. She was back a moment later. “It looks like he’s washing his truck down. Give him another ten minutes or so. He’ll have to stop in and sign the dump log book, but then he’ll be on his way.”
“Where will he come in?”
“Front door.”
“Shit! He’ll see my car for sure. I need to go. Thanks for the help, Maggie. Let me know if you find someone who can show me around,” he said in a rapid-fire cadence as he stepped out of her office.
He hurried down the hall, and as he stepped through door, he could see Steve looping the garden hose around the holder. He didn’t slow, threw himself behind the wheel of his car, and quickly backed out of the space.
As he turned to exit through the gate, he saw Steve crawling up into the cab of his truck. He smiled to himself as he floored the throttle to make his getaway.
-oOo-
When he arrived back at his office, Sean pulled the Thacker file and thumbed through it again, looking over the information it contained. Adding Steve’s name into the mix didn’t clarify anything and didn’t make some obscure or confusing bit of information suddenly snap into focus. There simply wasn’t anything there. Even if he was right, and it was Steve, he had no evidence, not even enough for a search warrant. He needed something else, something to tie Steve to the body, even if it wasn’t conclusive. He was onto something, he could feel it, but hunches and gut instincts wouldn’t get him a warrant.
He reached over, picked up his phone, and quickly dialed a number.
“Maggie Neese,” she answered.
“Maggie, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to bill all the testing you’re doing on the river for me to my department.”
“You want me to do that?” she asked, her puzzlement clear. “I think I can eat it.”
“No, I’d actually like you to bill me for it. Also, the next time Steve is in dumping a load,
please give me a call.”
“Okay, if that’s what you want. Can I ask why?”
“Better you don’t know, just in case this comes back and bites me in the butt. If anyone asks, tell them it’s because I have the budget for it, it’s part of the Thacker investigation, and leave it at that.”
“Okay, but there’s another reason?”
“Yes, Ms. Junior Detective. Any more than what I’ve told you, you’re better off not knowing.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Thanks, Maggie. I owe you.”
“Always glad to help law enforcement. Anything else you want me to bill to your department? I’ll be happy to help even more.”
He chuckled. “No, that’ll do for now.”
“When this is over, you’ll tell me what you’re up to?”
He grinned. “Nosy. Yeah, when I can.”
“I’m going to hold you to it.”
His grin turned into a smile. “Yes, I’m sure you are. I’ll talk to you later.”
He hung up, and then immediately dialed again.
“Sean McGhee for Mayor Klinger,” he said when Rudy’s receptionist answered the phone.
“Certainly. One moment, chief,” she said before she was gone.
He listened to on hold music for thirty seconds while waiting on Rudy.
“Sean. What can I do for you?” Rudy asked, his voice cool but polite.
“I just wanted to let you know I’ve asked Maggie to keep testing the river every day, looking for spikes in BODs. That’s going to affect her budget. I’ve told her to bill it to my department as part of the Thacker case.”
“Why are you doing that again?”
“Part of my investigation into the death of Boyd Thacker. I have an idea on why Thacker may have been killed, and testing the river is part of trying to prove, or disprove, the idea. I just wanted to let you know the extra costs were coming and why.”
Deadly Waters (A Sean McGhee Mystery Book 1) Page 19
