Chapter 43
“Well, Superintendent,” said Ted Springer as he stood next to Walker and picked up a slice of watermelon, “not hungry today? Not thirsty?”
Springer gestured with his free hand at the table in front of them and the coffeepots and bottles of water, the fruit along with a few simple sandwiches.
“Thanks, I ate before I left,” said Walker.
He was watching Mayor Patterson as the mayor stood by the coffeepots talking with someone from the NRA.
Someone important, judging by the body language and the facial expressions; two men who could be useful to each other.
Walker glanced at his watch. Five minutes until Patterson stepped up onto the podium.
The speech would last a maximum of ten minutes.
Then it was home to the family. There was still a lot of weekend left.
The phone in his pocket vibrated. It wasn’t Hanson this time either.
“Yes, Rooble?” said Walker.
“Dante says that Gomez is Lobo.”
“What?”
“Tomás Gomez is Lobo.” Rooble spoke clearly and calmly, so it wasn’t a case of Walker not hearing him, more that he just didn’t believe what he had heard.
“The Lobo?” said Walker.
“Yes. The Wanted poster was still up on the wall when I started in Homicide. I remember the description referred to a star-shaped tattoo on the back of one hand. Hanson said it was a cartel thing from south of the border.”
Walker closed his eyes. Opened them again. Lobo. He turned to Springer, who was holding the slice of melon up in front of his face so it looked like he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Bad news, Walker?”
“Yes. We need to postpone the speech.”
“Why?” Springer took another mouthful of melon.
“Gomez is almost certainly identical to a man called Lobo, a notorious serial killer.”
“What difference does that make? We already know Gomez is a killer.”
Walker looked at Springer. He realized he had no good answer. That the unease he felt in the pit of his stomach at the news was not an argument. Walker heard Rooble’s voice and realized he was still on the line.
“What?” he said, putting the phone to his ear.
“I said, Dante said there was something strange about Gomez’s hands.”
“What, exactly?”
“They had stitches along the sides, like seams. That the skin seemed to sort of move when he moved his hands. Like he was wearing gloves.”