Chapter 38 #2
The smooth male voice sent chills down her spine. Out of caution, she didn’t respond, but she didn’t disconnect, either.
He said, “Ah, you’re being circumspect, which indicates to me that you’ve learned about the demise of a famous restaurateur we both knew well.”
“Yes.” That single word was all her tight throat could muster, but it was a neutral reply that conveyed neither joy, sorrow, nor panic over Malone’s death.
“Our acquaintance spoke highly of you,” he said. “You’ve been in place for a while and did a good job for him. It really is remarkable that you’ve been able to deceive your police department cohorts so thoroughly and well.”
While the praise was gratifying, she didn’t say anything.
“By now you’ve probably guessed who this is, and your reluctance to speak suggests that you’re at risk of being overheard, so I’ll get right to the point.
You’ve proven yourself to be discreet and capable.
Because of our friend’s sudden demise, I have a vacancy to fill, and time is of the essence.
Are you prepared to work for me directly, without an intermediary? ”
Her heart leaped. “Yes,” she said on an expulsion of pent-up breath. “Absolutely.”
“Wonderful. You can begin immediately by telling me if Mitch Haskell received a parcel this morning.”
“It was delivered, but he wasn’t here. John Bowie took a picture of it and has gone in search of Haskell.”
“He hasn’t resurfaced? Before our mutual acquaintance… died… he mentioned that Haskell was out of pocket. It’s assumed he’s with his therapist.”
“Yes. Our mutual friend was unhappy about that.”
“I picked up on that, too. Do you know why?”
“No, sir. I’ll try to find out.”
“I like your initiative. I’m also curious to know how Haskell reacts when he learns about the death of our acquaintance. Watch and listen. Keep me apprised. For the time being, use this number.”
Without further ado, he disconnected.
After his conversation with Tucker, Mitch called John again, and this time he answered. Mitch asked, “Are you at headquarters yet?”
“I stopped to grab a sandwich from Dodi. Just now wheeling into the parking lot.”
“Don’t go inside. I’m five minutes out.”
By the time Mitch pulled into the lot, John had scarfed down his sandwich. They alighted from their vehicles simultaneously and ran toward the employee entrance, where they huddled under the narrow overhang to keep out of the rain.
Mitch pushed back the hood of the slicker.
“Malone’s phobia was a fear of going to hell.
” He briefly summarized what Dylan had told him.
“He talked to her about an imaginary evil twin he had to keep in line. Guess what he called him. Oz.” He’d said all that in one breath.
“Oz,” he repeated. “That links them, John.”
The cleft between John’s eyebrows deepened. “It links Malone to Oz, maybe, but we still haven’t confirmed who Oz is.” Before Mitch could object, John said, “Let’s get out of this rain.”
They went inside and started down the corridor toward the elevator bank. Other staff were coming and going in and out of offices, so Mitch didn’t continue about Oz, and, instead, gave John an update on Hank’s condition.
“Mary called as I was driving in. The procedure was routine. He’s gonna stay a couple of days in the hospital, but everything looks good.”
Upon hearing the report, he had expressed his genuine relief, asked Mary to tell Hank that he would drive over soon to make sure he was behaving himself, and had reassured her that Andrew was doing splendidly.
Though all the while he’d been talking to her, he’d felt like a hunting dog who had picked up a scent but was leashed to a post. He hadn’t drawn out the conversation with his mother-in-law for longer than was courteous, and she’d been anxious to get back to Hank anyway.
Now, as John approached the elevator and punched the button, he said, “Next time you talk to them, extend Beth’s and my well wishes.”
“Sure.”
The elevator arrived. Blessedly, they had it to themselves.
As soon as the door closed on them, Mitch said, “I talked to Tucker.” He gave John a rapid rundown of their conversation.
“I sensed that shit is going down today. What, when, and where, he wouldn’t say, but it was clear to me that Tucker wanted El Paso free to be captured. ”
“That’s an oxymoron. Or something.”
“But you know what I mean.” John nodded and Mitch continued. “Tucker also told me that NOPD served a search warrant at Malone’s restaurant, where they found incriminating goodies.”
John said, “I talked to a NOPD detective who was in on the search. It yielded a shitload of cash, a spare garrote, an arsenal of handguns, an AK-47 in a closet, and a rosary in a drawer. Beads were rubbed smooth, the detective said.”
“Which supports what Dylan told me about Malone’s fear of hell.” Seeing that they were about to reach the third floor, Mitch punched a red button that brought the elevator to a jarring halt. “What about Allen Busby? Did they find anything in Malone’s stuff relating to him?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you ask the detective specifically?”
“No, Mitch, but he didn’t even mention Busby’s name. He would have if they’d discovered a voilà about him, especially since he’s a celebrity.”
“No, exactly the opposite, John. They’d want to keep that hush-hush. Keep the media from getting wind of it. They’d want to bust Busby before he became aware or had a chance to flee.”
John gnawed on that. “Has Jim Tucker ever mentioned Busby?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Tells me the son of a bitch has been scrupulously careful to keep his identity unknown. If this raid Tucker is orchestrating puts a dent in his operation, he just might clean out his safe and take off for Timbuktu. We’ve got to jump before he can cover his tracks.”
John set the elevator in motion again.
“Listen a damn minute,” Mitch said. “You risked everything, your whole career, to catch that blood moon creep, when nobody—nobody—was even looking at him. I put my ass on the line to help you because I trusted your gut. I would expect the same from you now. Go with my gut, John. Busby is Oz. I know it.”
Before John could respond, the elevator door slid open, emptying them into the CAP unit. Every head turned in their direction. John stepped out first. Looking over his shoulder, he gave Mitch a meaningful look and said, “We’ll pick this up in my office in five.”