Chills slithered along his spine. He was positive the folder hadn’t been there the last time he looked. That would have been the last morning he’d worked.
Larry must have slipped the folder in later that day. A message from a dead man. Making certain no one else was watching, Brendan pulled out the file.
It contained copies of old newspaper clippings that appeared as if they’d been downloaded from the Dallas Morning News archives. He laid them in a row on his desk. All three were about an infamous case in Dallas where allegedly gypsum was packaged as cocaine and used as evidence to arrest and convict several innocent people.
Why had Larry put these clippings for him to find? Radford Crossing had nothing to do with the Dallas case. Brendan puzzled over the clippings until an idea smashed into his conscious. He recalled Larry’s last words.
It was the other way around. That’s how they did it.
Could someone in the Radford Crossing P.D. evidence room be removing drugs and substituting bags of gypsum dust? How would Larry have learned about it? Did that information cost his life?
The more he thought about it, the more he was certain he’d unraveled one piece of the puzzle. He and Larry had stumbled into a huge drug bust and seized massive quantities of cocaine about three months ago. The case hadn’t gone to trial yet, so the drugs should still be in the evidence room.
He’d never trusted Conor Wilson, the man in charge of securing evidence. Until now he hadn’t been certain whether Conor was dishonest or just slovenly about his duties.
Excitement built until Brendan leaped from his chair.
What should he do? A sample. He needed a sample from the bags of seized cocaine. Not an entire bag, just enough to have chemically analyzed.
But who would help him obtain it? Owen had ordered him to forget the whole investigation so he couldn’t approach the captain until he had proof of Conor’s guilt. George sprang to mind.
Brendan looked at his watch. He had time to catch George at home before the man came in for second shift. Folding the clippings, he tucked them into his pocket. He slid the empty file folder back into the drawer.
Once he was in his car and away from the police headquarters, he phoned Conor and asked when he could stop by and talk to him about something. They set a meeting time. Next he called George and told him he was on his way.
George and his wife lived in a well-kept home in a refurbished neighborhood. George kept their four kids during the day while his wife worked as a nurse. She took over while he worked the cop shop’s second shift. Not great for the couple’s together time, but the kids were never alone and seldom needed a sitter.
George carried a kid of about three with one arm and opened the door with the other. “Hey, Hunter, surprised to get your call.” The kid was a smaller version of George, with blond hair and large brown eyes. George stepped back so Brendan could enter.
“Cute kid. Looks like you.”
“Thanks, this is Joshua.” George set Joshua near some toys. “Have a seat if you can find a place.”
“Looks like you’re a regular Mr. Mom with everything under control.” Piles of neatly folded laundry lay stacked on the sofa and coffee table. Brendan moved a pile of folded kids’ clothes to a lamp table and sat on the sofa.
George moved more clothes and dropped to a chair. “It’s easier when the other three are in school. Thank goodness for Vacation Bible Schools. They go to whichever church nearby is having one. Man, it keeps me on my toes to have all four home at once.”
“I’ll bet.” Brendan had never thought much about kids other than as a vague, far away possibility. Now he wondered what his own children would look like? Would they have his unruly brown hair or silky black hair? Eyes of gray or blue as the lake?
Damn, he’d better get his mind back on business.
He looked around, making certain he and George were the only adults present. “I found a message from Larry in my desk at work.”
George leaned forward. “Damn, that must have been weird. What’d it say?”
He pulled out the clippings and handed them over. “No message, no writing except the file label on the folder stuck in my desk. And only these inside.”
George scanned them and raised his head. “I remember hearing about this. Bad news when a cop goes bad and jails innocent people. Why do you think Larry left them for you?”
“When he...” Talking about that night was hard. Brendan swallowed and tried again. “When he was laying in the street, he said something I didn’t understand until I saw these.”
“Yeah, what?” George handed them back.
“He grabbed my wrist and said ‘It was the other way around. That’s how they did it.’ Then he died.” Brendan shook his head. “I’ve tried all this time to figure out what he meant. Didn’t make sense until today.”
“You don’t think one of our guys....”
“No, I don’t think anyone from our office is framing innocent people. Think about this—what if gypsum powder was substituted in the evidence room for the seized drugs from that big bust Larry and I made a few months ago? That’d be the other way around from the clippings. And who’d know?”
“No one now.” George shrugged. “Probably not even when the packages are destroyed. Man, that’s a long shot. Making the switch would be risky. One slip and it’d be all over.”
“Depends on when it was done. And who did it.”
George nodded. “You think it’s Conor Wilson?”
“Has to be. No one else has unlimited access. Plus I hate the guy’s guts.”
“You and half the force.” He smiled. “The other half haven’t met him.”
“Here’s why I came. I need someone to help me. Can you sneak in and get a little sample of the so-called cocaine tonight while I distract Conor?”
“Are you crazy?” He shook his head. “No, no, don’t look at me like that. I do well to walk, I sure as hell can’t sneak.”
“Look, I’ll talk to Conor about the gun he misplaced, keep him talking while you get the sample.”
“I’d never be able to pull it off. And if I get fired what would I do? We can’t raise four kids on my wife’s salary and I’m not likely to get any other job.”
Brendan saw the validity in George’s statement. “Okay, you talk to him and I’ll slip in and get the sample.”
George appeared to think it over. Still frowning, he said, “He’d know I was up to something. I avoid the guy like the plague. Can’t you get someone else?”
“Sad to admit, but there aren’t that many I know well or whom I trust with something like this.”
Throwing his hands up in capitulation, George groaned. “Okay, but you talk to him. You have a legitimate excuse. Besides, I owe you.”
Feigning ignorance, Brendan asked, “For that hamburger the other day? Hey, you can buy next time.”
“Hmph,” George snorted. “No. I’ve always thought you were the anonymous donor who stepped in and paid off the medical bills not covered by our insurance plan. We’d still be scrabbling to find a spare dime to pay on them if you hadn’t done that.”
Brendan’s face heated with a flush of embarrassment. “No way you’re pinning that on me.”
George shot him a knowing look. “Yeah, right.”
Brendan quickly changed the subject to getting the sample from a so-called cocaine bag.
“I’ll drop by the evidence room tonight at seven. I already checked with Conor and he plans to be there until at least eight. He’s soaking the department for comp time so he can take off a day next week.”
“Okay, but I still don’t like it.”
Hoping to reassure George, Brendan smiled. “What could go wrong?”
Chapter Twenty Three
At five minutes before seven, Brendan parked and strolled inside the police station as if he were going to work. As far as he was concerned, he was. If drugs were being stolen and sold, it was his business—especially if he received the blame. As usual for this time of eveni
ng, unless someone needed to look at mug shots, George was alone.
Brendan nodded as he passed George’s desk, but didn’t stop. He heard the scrape of his friend’s chair then George’s uneven steps behind him. At the dead end hall that opened into the evidence room desk, Brendan paused.
George stopped beside him and whispered. “I’d never have made an undercover officer. My heart’s pounding and I think I may be sick. I don’t see how this will work.”
“I’ve got a couple of plans. You slip in as soon as I get Conor’s attention.” He handed George a pocketknife, surgical gloves, and a plastic bag. “Use these. If Conor notices later that the bag’s been tampered with, he won’t be able to get prints.”
George’s panic-struck look didn’t reassure Brendan, but George took the paraphernalia. “How will I know his back is turned?”
“When you hear me address him by his name, you scoot in.”
George frowned down at the items Brendan had supplied. “I don’t scoot. I limp, but I’ll do my best.” He touched Brendan’s arm. “You better be thinking of a plan in case I’m seen.”
“You’ve come to tell me my girlfriend is trying to find me and you promised her you’d look for me. Or, if you’re coming out of the evidence room or caught inside it, say I enlisted your aid in finding the missing gun.”
Their whispered conversation ended, Brendan walked ahead and stopped at the counter in front of Conor’s desk. Once again, Conor stared at a girlie magazine.
“How’s it going?” Brendan asked.
“You again.” Conor looked at his watch. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve been thinking about that missing gun. Figure you might be right and maybe someone else messed with it.” Brendan looked around as if watching to make sure they were alone. “You think one of the guys on the force could be taking money under the table to make things disappear?”
Conor’s face was a study in emotion. At first he appeared surprised at Brendan’s suggestion. Then he considered it. Brendan figured the rat was wondering how he could use the accusation to his benefit. When Conor’s face took on a shrewd look, Brendan knew the man had bitten the bait.
“Might have happened when I wasn’t here. Damn broad assigned to me is all tits and ass and no brains.” He rose and came to the counter. “Who do you suspect?”
“Hey, Conor, I thought you might have a suggestion. Of course, if you weren’t here, I guess it could have been anyone.” Over Conor’s shoulder, Brendan caught a glimpse of George disappearing inside the room housing shelves of evidence.
“You’d be my first choice, but you sure as hell don’t need the money.” Conor frowned and tapped his finger on the countertop. “What about that spic Rodriguez? He’s from a tough neighborhood. Has all those kids to feed. Bet he went to school with half the scum arrested.”
“They probably wouldn’t have much money. Maybe there’s someone who’d be in a position to meet the muckety mucks who try to hush it up when their kids get a little wild.”
Conor nodded. “Yeah, like that dumbass Chief Gordon, always putting on airs, pretending he’s a big society so and so. Spends half his time going to benefits to rub elbows with the people who can actually afford to attend.”
Brendan stalled. “Yeah, I wondered about that Myerson evidence. You know, I remember there was a photo in the newspaper of old man Myerson and the chief at some shindig.”
Conor’s face lit up. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll bet it’s the chief. He’s tight with Myerson.” He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna do anything about it?”
Where the hell was George? He should be out by now.
“I don’t know. If Chief Gordon’s involved, I think I’d better keep my nose out of it. You don’t suppose the young woman who works for you would know, do you?”
“Her? Nah, I told you she’s dumb as dirt.” He leaned forward and snickered. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind her working under me, if you know what I mean.”
“I’d be afraid to suggest that to her if I were you.”
“Got that right.” Conor snorted. “Little shit threatened to file a harassment charge if I touched her.”
Brendan wondered how many times Conor had gotten fresh before she had leveled that threat?
And why wasn’t George out of there?
Brendan tried to keep the repulsion he felt for Conor from his voice. “Things have changed.” Like since the dark ages. Damn, he hated this sleaze.
“Damn right. Cunts think they can wear tight clothes and get a man going, then act shocked when he tries to follow through. I told Miss Tits and Ass she better not be advertising unless the merchandise is available.”
Finally, George slipped out and hurried—at least, for him—down the hall and around the corner.
“Well, tell you what, Conor. You give my theory some thought. Maybe you can come up with a name. Unless that gun turns up, of course.”
Conor’s eyes narrowed. “I already located it. Someone had shoved it behind a couple of VCR’s.”
And Brendan knew just who that someone was. “Hey, that’s a relief. Still, won’t hurt to think about my theory, will it?”
“Yeah. I’ll give it some thought.” As if suspicious of the casual visit, Conor watched Brendan.
“Glad you found that gun. See you later then. Good night.” Brendan walked slowly away until he’d turned the corner then caught up with George.
George dropped into his desk chair. “Whew, I thought he’d caught me for sure.”
“You did great.” Brendan pocketed the plastic bag and penknife George handed him. “And I learned Conor found the gun he supposedly lost. I’ll bet he knew where it was all along and just wanted to yank my chain.”
“Sounds like something he’d do.” George rubbed at his chin as if thinking. “Although, he never did find that stuff for the Myerson trial.”
“And no wonder. Myerson’s well to do. Could have made it worth Conor’s time to lose stuff.”
“Wouldn’t put it past him.” George used his hanky and mopped his brow. “I’ll toss the surgical gloves at home.”
“Good. Guess you heard me spouting that fake theory to Conor.”
“And him taking the bait. Also talking about his clerk. I feel sorry for any woman who works for Conor. Mary Harding’s a single mom. Always looks harried.”
“Hmph, or harassed. Keeps her head down and feigns invisibility whenever I’ve seen her. Speaking of which, I’d better disappear before anyone sees me here with you.” He patted his pocket. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Sure thing.”
As he was leaving, he saw Vince Green also going toward the parking lot.
“Working late, Vince?”
“Yeah, as usual. But I got the M.E.’s report back on the Porter stiff.”
“Hey, that was quick. What was the cause of death?”
“Surprised me. Guy overdosed on cocaine. Like a fifth a day wasn’t dangerous enough, he had to shoot up.”
Brendan didn’t think so, but he didn’t argue. “He having a funeral?”
“Don’t know. Body’s released for burial. As to when that’ll be, your guess is as good as mine. No known kin. Suppose the taxpayers will have to foot the bill.”
On the way home, Brendan stopped by Dave Roan’s.
When he entered Dave’s house, Blossom stood and smoothed her hair then straightened her skirt.
Brendan smiled. “Having a late dinner?”
Dave cleared his throat. “We were about to have dessert.”
His mother blushed. Brendan figured she was Dave’s dessert and not the slice of pie on a plate in front of her. Not that he cared, he only wished they’d get a license and move in together.
“Can I do something for you?” Dave asked.
Brendan fished the plastic bag from his pocket. “This is that substance I need tested. Can you do it?”
Dave straightened his glasses and peered at the bag. “Not myself. I’ll ask a chemist frien
d of mine to check it. May take a day or two.”
“Thanks. The sooner the better.” He turned and headed for the door. “I’ll let myself out. Good night.”
No one urged him to hang around. No surprise there.
Back at his mom’s place, Deirdre greeted him as soon as he came in. Didn’t that feel cozy? Too much so. He’d better not get to liking it too much.
Soon his mom would marry Dave then Deirdre’d be on her own. So would he. He wondered whether his mom and Dave would live here or at Dave’s place.
“Your mother is at Dave’s so it’s just you and me for dinner. It’s on the table.”
“I told Mom I’d be late. You shouldn’t have waited.” He followed her into the kitchen, grateful she’d delayed for him. Not just for the meal, for him.
She poured two glasses of iced tea. “We have sandwiches from last night’s left over roast beef. But they’ll be good and filling. Blossom brought home some of those buns she said you like and organic kettle chips.”
He washed his hands at the sink and joined her at the table in the breakfast nook. “Looks good.” He built a stack of beef, tomato, lettuce, and mayo. “You have a good day?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes. No one who comes into your mother’s shop seems to think I’m odd. Everyone’s been most kind.”
“Not even Mildred Vandermeer? Have you met her yet? From what I’ve heard, she isn’t kind to anyone.”
“That’s surprising. She’s the loveliest of all the customers. I met her the first day and she’s been back once. She asked for me especially. Wasn’t that nice?”
He laughed. “You must have a real talent for the job. She’s very hard to please.”
Deirdre’s smile fled. “Have you found the man with the spider on his wrist?”
He swiped his chin with the napkin where he suspected he’d dribbled mayo. “No, but I’m making progress.”
She took the napkin from him and dabbed next to his mouth. “You’ll be careful once you find him, won’t you?”
Humoring her, he said, “Yeah, sure. So tell me what you do at Mom’s shop.”
“It’s easier to tell you what I don’t do, which is the money part and the telephone orders. They and the cash register are confusing to me.” She smiled. “I talk to the customers then I help clean shelves and put out new things when there have been sales, and take the mail to the box across the parking lot to the corner each day.”
OUT OF THE BLUE Page 16
