by Bob Blanton
“What? Who’s complaining?”
“The drug gangs. Undercover cops and snitches are telling them that they’re losing money and customers.”
“Interesting. So, why do they care?”
“Wait, let me park first.”
Emily pulled the Porsche into a parking space and the two hurried into the restaurant, just making it in front of a car full of juniors. “Whew, six in one car.”
“It’s a good thing you drive fast.”
After ordering their food, they sat down and continued the conversation. “You were going to tell me why they care about a new supplier.”
“Well, they were trying to put the gangs out of business.”
“Sure, and look how successful that’s been.”
“Right, but anyway, the new supplier is different; they don’t understand it, so they want to figure it out before something worse happens. And they’re worried about a turf war.”
“Okay, so they want to find the new supplier, and why can’t they at least figure out where it’s coming from?”
“I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve got the name of the detective in charge. I think you should go interview him.”
“Why me?”
“Because you need to get a read on him so you can pop in and check things out like you did with Agent Caruthers.”
Matthew sighed. “Where is he?”
“Downtown San Diego.”
“And how am I supposed to go down there and interview him?”
“I’ll give you a ride. I have some shopping to do.”
“So, when?” Matthew was getting a bit tired of being manipulated by Emily.
“Tomorrow. We can skip journalism, tell Ms. Whittaker that we’re working on a story.”
“Okay, but why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”
“Don’t be a baby. It’s the life of an investigative journalist.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“I’d like to speak with Detective Vaughn,” Matthew told the desk sergeant.
“I’m sorry, the detective isn’t in.”
“Sure he is, he’s wearing a white shirt and red tie, and he walked by just a minute ago.” Matthew had done a little surveillance on the way down. He’d seen the detective grab a cup of coffee just before Emily dropped him off.
“Let me rephrase that, he isn’t in for teenage punks.”
“I’m a reporter for the Pacific Coast Gazette. I’m working on a story about the recent surge in Oxycontin abuse here in San Diego. Please tell Detective Vaughn I’d like to interview him.”
Matthew used his portal to make Detective Vaughn’s phone buzz. Detective Vaughn answered it and after hearing nothing but a dial tone, he walked out front to see what was going on.
“Hey, guys, it’s Clark Kent,” Detective Vaughn said when he spotted Matthew.
“What?!”
“You know, Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet and Superman’s alter ego.”
“Oh, right. This is the kid from that article about the diner. And isn’t he the same one that rescued that kid a while back?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Matt, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. Do you have some time to talk with me?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I’d like to interview you for my paper.”
“Okay, come on back. Sarge, I’ll call you if I need some help.”
They went through the door, then walked past a bunch of cubicles on their way to an office. The cubicles were full and the cops in them were working hard, creating a loud buzz of activity.
“Okay, kid, what do you want to ask me?”
“I want to ask some questions about the new drug issue that’s been on the news.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Well, first, I’d like to know how you know that there’s a new source of drugs?”
“Because the usual gangs are not distributing it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because when we bring the usual pushers in, they all complain about a loss of customers. They’re fighting among themselves, trying to make up for the lost income.”
“So, these customers have found an alternate source?”
“You’ve got it.”
“And it isn’t just them getting the drugs from their doctors?”
“No. When the FDA and DEA cracked down on doctors writing excessive scrips for opioids, the gangs stepped in and met the demand. Then a year ago, all that new demand disappeared. The gangs had gotten used to all that new income and aren’t happy about losing it.”
“How is it getting into the country?”
“We don’t know. The gangs were getting it from the Mexican drug cartels. This new stuff must be coming from someplace else, or the gangs would know all about it.”
“Do you have any samples of the drug that you can use to trace its origins?”
“Nope. We haven’t busted any users, except those buying from the usual sources. All the users that the gangs lost are upscale. Not your typical junkie. That’s what’s got them so pissed off. These people were reliable clients.”
“So, is there any hope of figuring it out?”
“Don’t worry kid. We’ll get them. Now, if you want to help us out with your x-ray vision, we could probably work something out.”
Matthew frowned at being teased about the Superman thing, but it was his fault. He should have done something different when he realized that the waitress was in on the robbery. Instead, he’d just walked up to her using his portal to stop the bullets. He didn’t think she’d be that clear-headed about it.
◆ ◆ ◆
Matthew tuned in on Detective Vaughn’s briefing the next morning.
“Okay, we’ve got one potential buyer, Evelyn Frye. She works in a jewelry store. They lost some jewels, shoplifting was the story, but the owner thinks she took them. No proof, but the robbery guys who investigated say her coworker thinks she’s using. Said she tore her knee up about six months ago and was taking Oxycontin for the pain. Seems she never quit taking it.”
“Why do you think she’s going to buy from the new guys?”
“She fits the profile. Middle Class, clean, no record or problems before now.”
“So, what do we do, follow her?” one of the police officers asked.
“Exactly. She works from 9:30 to 6:00, has a short lunch break, so we watch her before and after work.”
“Isn’t this a little like buying a lottery ticket?”
“Hey, do you want to go back to traffic? I’m sure someone else there would be happy to come and work this case.”
“No, it just feels like we’re grasping at straws.”
“That’s because we are. Whoever is running this show is running a tight ship. We haven’t gotten a blip from any of our usual sources. We have to pick up a thread somewhere. Now, Jackson, you’ve got her for the morning shift; pick her up at her apartment and follow her to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Williams, you guys follow her home. The rest of you keep shaking the bushes, we have to find something soon.”
“What about pawn shops?”
“Robbery is taking care of that. They’ll keep us informed.”
Matthew copied the address and name off of the whiteboard that Detective Vaughn was using. Then he made a quick dash via his portal to the address. He always laughed when he drove his portal around; it was like driving a car; he had to follow directions until he reached the address. Once he found the apartment, he did a quick check inside. She was in the shower, so he figured he’d check back in an hour when he would expect her to be heading to work. It would be easy since he had math in the mornings and since they only met Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he had a study hour today. He would just stay home for the hour and head to school late.
◆ ◆ ◆
Matthew slid into his seat next to Emily. They had Conversational French for second period. Evelyn Frye was just leaving for work.
“How was the briefing this morning?”
“They’re grasping at straws. They’re tracking some woman they think is a user. You’ll need to cover for me when I check in on them.”
“Sure, I’ll feed you lines if she calls on you. You’ll have to tell me more about the briefing at lunch.”
“Okay.”
◆ ◆ ◆
“Hey, where are Alex and Jason?” Matthew asked as he met Emily for lunch. Today was their day to eat on campus.
“They’re going to grab a sandwich and go to the auditorium. They’re working on the parts they want to try out for.”
“Such dedication is unusual for those two.”
“I don’t know, they always buckle down when they have to.”
“I guess.”
“Now, what did you learn at the briefing?”
“Like I said, they’re grasping at straws. They’re following this Evelyn Frye who they suspect stole some jewelry from the store she works at. She went to work this morning with no side trips.”
“How does that say she’s buying drugs?”
“She has a clean record, a good job, and suddenly she starts stealing. She had a problem with her knee and was prescribed Oxycontin. Her coworker thinks she got hooked.”
“And that means she’s stealing from her employer.”
“Well, let’s do the math. Street price for the pills is fifteen to thirty dollars a pop. If she’s taking the recommended dose, that’s 800 per month. If she’s taking double the dose, it’s 1600 per month. I don’t think working in a jewelry store pays that much, even if the store is in La Jolla.”
“Yeah, with commissions she’d be lucky to make 5K a month. How does someone live on that?”
“She has a roommate in a one-bedroom apartment.”
“A boyfriend?”
“It’s another woman. Two beds in the bedroom.”
“Ouch.”
“I’ll do some more checking after school. She works late; I don’t know about the roommate yet.”
◆ ◆ ◆
That afternoon, Matthew did a survey of Ms. Frye’s apartment. Her roommate was still out, probably at work. Matthew used his portal to search the apartment. It didn’t take him long to find a box of bills with Evelyn Frye’s name all over them. By sliding his portal between pages and using a flashlight to provide light, he could read the various bills. Ms. Frye had four credit cards, each of them maxed out at over two thousand dollars each. He also found a savings book that showed she had had over eight thousand dollars in savings six months ago, now it was zeroed out, the account closed.
He couldn’t find any other indication that she was on drugs, but the credit cards and empty savings account pointed to major money problems. He’d have to keep watching with the police to see if anything turned up.
Chapter 2
What Have We Here?
Nothing happened on Ms. Frye’s trip home from work. The next morning when Matthew checked in, her roommate was just leaving for work and Ms. Frye was already dressed and ready to leave.
“See you tonight.”
“Sure, have fun with the kids,” Ms. Frye called out as her roommate left.
Since she was dressed and ready to leave, Matthew hung out and watched. She grabbed her handbag and headed to her car. When she left the parking lot, she turned east. The jewelry store was west, so Matthew figured this might be it. He saw the cops pull in behind her, one of them was on the radio calling it in.
Ms. Frye drove for four miles along Clairemont Mesa Blvd, fighting the morning commute. Then she pulled into a Starbucks’ parking lot. Yesterday she’d gotten her morning coffee at the coffee shop two doors down from the jewelry store, so something was definitely up.
A black and white police car raced ahead of the detectives who were tailing Ms. Frye and turned the corner just before the Starbucks. It went two blocks and parked on a side street. The detectives pulled up at the curb and one of them got out while the other parked the car. The detective was able to get into the Starbucks just ahead of Ms. Frye. He stood at the counter as if he was deciding what to buy.
Matthew watched as Ms. Frye got out of her car and walked into the coffee shop. She nodded to a Black man who was sitting at the counter playing with his phone while he sipped a coffee.
She got in line and ordered a mocha. She stood at the counter impatiently while they made her coffee. The detective was in line behind her and he ordered two large cappuccinos and moved off to the side while they waited for their coffees. He gave Ms. Frye a nervous smile and leaned against the wall. His partner entered the shop and went over to browse the breakfast offerings.
“Mocha for Evelyn!”
Ms. Frye grabbed her coffee and went over to the counter next to the man she’d nodded to when she came in. She set her purse down on top of the counter while she took a sip of her mocha.”
“Is it good?”
“Perfect.” She reached in her purse and passed an envelope to the man. The envelope was one of those envelopes you got at the bank, the same size as money; Matthew wasn’t even sure if the detective would have noticed the envelope. The guy carefully laid his hand on top of the envelope and slid it in front of him.
Then he slid a bag of M&Ms over to Ms. Frye. “Enjoy.” She picked it up and clasped it next to her coffee cup as she turned to leave.
“STOP! POLICE!” The two detectives moved over to the pair. “Keep your hands in plain sight.”
The police cruiser pulled into the parking lot. The homeless man sitting at the curb looked over and shook his head. The teenagers who had been doing skateboard tricks in the lot started to move across the street. A couple of cars that had been heading for the drive-through decided to get their coffee somewhere else.
“Hey, what’s up with this! We’re just having coffee!” the man shouted.
“Yeah, right. Let me see that envelope she handed you.”
“Sure, it’s just the money she owes me.” The man handed the envelope to the detective. The detective opened it and ruffled the bills inside. Matthew could see that they were all hundreds.
“It’s nine hundred bucks if you have trouble counting that high.”
“Shut up. Now, you give me that package,” the detective said to Ms. Frye.
She handed him the M&Ms.
“What do we have here?” he said as he shook the bag in his hand.
“It’s just candy.”
“Yeah, sure it is.” The detective opened the bag and poured some of it into his hand. M&Ms slid out. He nodded to his partner, “I need a cup.”
“Hey, you owe me three bucks.”
“Shut up.”
The partner went to the counter and asked for an empty cup. Returning, he handed it to his partner who poured the rest of the M&Ms into it.
Grimacing, he turned to Ms. Frye. “Why did you give him nine hundred dollars for a bag of M&Ms?”
“She owed me the nine hundred. I just gave her the M&Ms because I knew she liked them.”
“Ma’am.”
“Like he said. I owed him the money. I didn’t know he was going to bring me M&Ms, but they are my favorite.” Ms. Frye’s voice was shaking along with her hands.
“Get up!” the detective shouted at the man. “Assume the position.”
“What position?!” The man stood up and looked around. “Hey, this is harassment!”
The detective slammed the man into the counter then slammed his head on top of it. “I said, assume the position!”
“Hey, the only positions I know are from the Kamasutra!”
The detective’s partner stifled a laugh and shook his head. “Hands on the counter, feet apart!” The first detective pushed the guy around. “Now slide your feet back.” He kicked the guy’s feet back until he had to use the counter to hold himself up. Then the detective patted him down. He pulled out a wad of cash from his front pocket and a bus pass.
“Where’s your wallet?”
“I don’t need no wallet! I pa
y cash!”
“What about a driver’s license?”
“I take the bus.”
“What’s your name?”
“Malcom.”
“Malcom what?”
“None of your business, you don’t have no probable cause!”
“Shut up.” The detective grabbed the backpack that was at the man’s feet.
“Hey, that’s mine. You don’t have no cause to search my stuff.”
“I said, shut up!” The detective emptied the backpack. There was a bundle of flyers, five more bags of candy, two bags of M&Ms and three bags of Skittles, a book, a windbreaker, and some change.
“Nothing!” The detective rifled the pages of the book as he looked at his partner.
“What did you owe him money for?” the second detective asked Ms. Frye.
“He loaned it to me. I needed help with my rent.”
“Where did you two meet?”
“Hey, what’s the problem, a Black man can’t know a white woman?!”
“Where did you meet?” the detective asked again.
“At a party. We’ve met at a few parties,” Ms. Frye said.
“Are you done harassing me?!” the man asked.
“Get out of here!” the detective said, shoving the backpack at the guy.
The man grabbed his backpack and put his stuff back in it. Then he held his hands up as he backed away. “I’m going to call that Jacoby dude. I’m going to sue you for harassment.”
“Get lost!”
The man continued to back away until he bumped into the display case. Then he turned around and made a quick exit from the store. He walked down to the bus stop and leaned against the street light. Matthew decided to keep tabs on him. He’d have to watch the recording of his math class, but he figured there was more to this scene than met the eye.
“Sorry, Ms. Frye,” the detective said.
“You know who I am?”
“We’ve been following up on the problem at the jewelry store. We were interested in why you were heading east this morning.”
“I was meeting Malcom, to pay him back.” Her voice was still shaking.
“You can go!”
Ms. Frye grabbed her purse and left her coffee on the counter. She walked to her car. She looked around a bit, then got in her car and drove away.
