by Alex Harris
Chapter 9
Oriole and Fred checked in with the fingerprint tech for progress of the real Mr. Smith to discover Mr. Smith was actually Stephen Walsh, formerly a guest at the California State Prison system and points east. Charges ranged from burglary to drugs. It seemed worth another trip to Paulden to inquire of Mr. Smith/Walsh and his change of name.
“Mark, I’m warning you, you need to stay out of it.” Janelle Jankowski implored the crew chief over lunch in the employee trailer.
“Butt out Janelle. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Everybody has stood by and been raked over the coals by Stutz and now by Smith, who thinks he’s going to take over. Just leave it be.” Angrily, Mark shot back.
The door opened and Marlene walked in followed immediately by Smith. “The detectives are on their way out to get some more information. I need you all to stick around.” The authority with which Marlene delivered the order was not well received by any of the three listeners.
“Well, they can just come find me, I got work to do.” Smith retorted.
“Marlene, it’s time to get something through to you, you ain’t the boss. Your daddy was project manager and you’re nothing but the accountant. So don’t go acting like some high and mighty control freak.” Mark pointed a finger at Marlene while moving toward the trailer door.
Smith hurried out to his truck, picked up a duffel bag from the front seat and moved it to the locked tool box in the bed of the truck, then left for the job site half a mile away. Oriole and Fred arrived to see his dust settle.
“Marlene, how are things going?” Fred greeted the discombobulated daughter of the deceased.
“I’m thinking about moving on. Maybe Tucson or Riverside. I don’t much like it here anymore without Dad.” Tears formed as she spoke.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Has something happened?” Oriole comforted Marlene.
“Everybody is so rude and mean. I only took this job to be close to Dad. I can get a job with any of the accounting firms. There’s nothing to keep me here now. I just can’t stand it.” Her voice rose with emotion.
Fred and Oriole looked at each other for a moment. “Detective Wolfe, why don’t you talk to Marlene and Janelle and I’ll talk to Smith and Littleton?” Fred suggested by way of escaping Marlene’s whining. He took off to the job site after being told where Smith and Littleton most likely were, leaving Oriole to deal with the office staff.
Fred could see the two men toe to toe next to Littleton’s truck engaged in a heated argument. He was pretty sure Smith would come out on top regardless of what the argument was about based on sheer size and attitude. “Gentlemen, just the two I’m looking for. I have a few more questions. Could I impose on you to help me with some more information?” Fred used his most diplomatic tone.
“What the fuck do you want now?” Smith all but yelled.
“Actually, I’m here to see you, Mr. Walsh.”
Smith’s face turned red and he stiffened. Littleton took a step back to get out of harm’s way. “My name is Smith. I dropped Walsh years ago. I got the paper work to make it legal. So bite me.” Mr. Attitude sneered at Fred.
“Why didn’t you tell us that yesterday when we were here? It makes it look real suspicious, know what I mean?
“Cause it’s none of yer business. I did my time. You got no reason to hassle me.” Littleton faded back into the scenery as Smith/Walsh argued with Fred.
“We just want to know why you lied to us that’s all. Put yourself in my shoes. If someone lies to you, don’t you want to know why?”
“Listen, I’m clean, I got nothing to hide. I just don’t like cops. Now leave me alone I got work to do, mine and Stutz’s.” Smith/Walsh started walking off and Fred let him go knowing he could get to him whenever he wanted. Returning to the office trailer, he found Oriole stepping down the rickety stairs.
“Get anything from him?” Oriole greeted Fred.
“Makes me suspicious. Mr. Attitude’s hiding something even though he was quick to tell me he wasn’t. Let’s go back to the office, I’ve got some ideas to follow up on and we’ve got a new case to start.”
“Another DB?”
“Naw, just fraud. No blood and guts. Just heartache and headaches.” Fred hated fraud scheme cases more than he hated doing dishes and he stocked his house with paper plates.
Waiting for them back at the sheriff’s office was Joe Best from the Phoenix DEA office. In the past, the three had worked a number of drug cases given that Yavapai County was a major drug corridor, to the north I-40 and to the east I-17. Best like to work cases in Yavapai County being a former football player at Bradshaw Mountain High School and his ailing parents still living there, he knew people and knew the intricacies of working with various agencies. Best stood 6'2", lean, but muscled, with gray-blonde shoulder length hair (certainly not agency approved), looking more like a construction worker than a drug expert, comfortable in Prescott or Phoenix.
“Hey, Best, is that your agency issued Dodge Ram out there?” Fred joked with Joe. “And what brings you to God’s country?”
“Ah, you know, I gotta come up here ever so often to keep you on your toes and check to see what kinda drugs flow through.” Joe’s smile covered most of the lower part of his face.
“Come on Joe, you’re here for something specific, we all know that. Who did we pick up you want? Who’s running stuff through here now?” Oriole smiled at knowing she was on target with his reason for being in town.
“Well, actually, we got word there’s a bunch of meth flowing right now. An informant gave us info about an operation moving up to a couple pounds a week. I wanted to check in with you guys see what you’d heard and maybe run a joint operation to shut ‘em down.”
“Wow, couple pounds a week. That’s a bunch. Usually it’s by the gram. Where do you hear it’s at? The last big operation shut down about eight big dealers. The biggest thing we got going right now is marijuana.” Oriole and Fred were both excited by the opportunity for a change up in their case load.
“Our source says its north, up near Chino. Our confidential reliable informant (CRI) believes it’s coming in by way of I-40 down 89A. There’s some kind of stopping point to break it up and then it’s moving back up 89A to I-40 and down 89A to Prescott, Camp Verde and up I-17. We got some names and tentative locations I want to run by you to see if you heard of ‘em. DEA contacted the Sheriff and he agrees to do a joint op. I asked for you two because I don’t want to work with the Narcotics Task Force. I want someone out of the loop. I’m concerned it might be connected to an undercover. So we’d have to be on the sly. You’d still have your regular case load and then work with me on this. I told the sheriff I wanted you two ‘cause I can trust you. He said it was up to you to decide and if you said no, no harm, no foul.OK? In or Out?”
Fred looked at Oriole and raised his eyebrow in question to her. “Yeah, I’m in, Joe, can’t speak for Fred even though I do most of the time.” Oriole winked at Fred and rubbed her hands together with the possibilities of fun and games.
“Well, then don’t speak for me. Crazy woman. I was busting druggies long before you were out of diapers and will be long after you’re rocking on the porch of the retirement home. I don’t want ya thinking you’re going have all the fun. I’m in for a pound or two.” Fred laughed at his own joke.
“Good, I knew you’d both be up for it. Want to grab some lunch. Then we’ll see what we got to work with. I was thinking maybe the Prescott Brewing Company; I love their bread bowl. It’s within walking distance.”
“Walk? What’re you saying? I got a horse, a motorcycle, a quad, a truck. Why would I walk anywhere?” Fred good naturedly chastised Joe.
“Alright, I been sitting for two hours. I need to move. You drive, I’ll meet you there. With parking, I’ll probably be there first. What do you want to drink? Oriole, you riding or walking?”
“I’ll walk down the hill with you. I got questions for you on the op. It’s a good opportun
ity to get info since we can’t talk at PBC.”
Down the hill, Oriole and Joe caught up on times and people. He asked about Chalcey and couldn’t believe she was already 13. She asked about his son and was surprised he was in college at California Davis. He inquired about Summer and Oriole asked after his ex-wife, Carole. In general, the walk down hill was too short, but it gave each of them the opportunity to re-connect. Joe explained about the latest drug interdiction he was working on and the reason he had asked to have Oriole and Fred assigned to his task force. Methamphetamine was being smuggled across the border at a increasing rate and being transported through Arizona to points north, east and west. The DEA had informant information that Yavapai County was a major transfer site based on I-17 and I-40 transversing the county. Joe detailed the latest intel provided by a CRI where they believed the major transfers were taking place.
The special crimes unit of the Sheriff’s office and the Department of Public Safety had made a huge dent in the drug trade on the corridor. The cartels had instituted new and better methods of hiding the dope and gaining a foothold in the trafficking once again. The DEA, through Joe’s efforts, had determined that there might be a leak in one of the offices providing direct information to the cartel. Joe’s task was to hand pick a few officers he trusted to join him in stopping the influx of meth and discover if and who in law enforcement was involved.
By the time Oriole and Joe reached PBC, he had finished his soliloquy and suggested they wait until after lunch to talk with Fred, just in case the walls had ears. They sat on the bench in front of PBC waiting for Fred, who had so far circled the block twice while they all but laughed out loud. Fred knew parking in the downtown area was a premium and still he insisted on driving. On his third trip, Oriole signaled she and Joe would wait inside for him.
After lunch, Joe and Oriole rode back with Fred and briefed him on the upcoming project. Naturally, Fred had more questions than there were answers.
