Fifteen minutes later the guy called him back. He’d given one of the hotel’s housekeepers a sob story about his sister, Beth, who often went on drinking binges. She confirmed that Ms. Collins was still checked in. Then he’d talked her into letting him into room 307 to check on his sister’s well-being.
He’d told Frank that the Do Not Disturb sign was hanging on the doorknob. The bed was still made. Towels hadn’t been used. One empty bourbon bottle from the mini bar was in the trash can.
And Frank had thought, Oh fuck, knowing he had to break this news to Tom Barker.
Now he had, and Tom was thumping his desktop with his fist in a steady rhythm of fury. “He’s made fools of all of us.”
“He’s slick.”
“Bullheaded son of a bitch. He can’t be enjoying this ducking and hiding any more than we are.”
Frank said nothing but thought, He’s got the girl.
“That goddamn Mellin case. Why won’t he just let it go?”
Since it was a rhetorical question, Frank didn’t respond to it, either. Instead he said, “What do you want me to do, boss?”
“Go back to his house and—”
“I’ve already sent somebody. It’ll take him a while to find the place, and when he does, I doubt he’ll find Bowie there.”
“He couldn’t have gotten away from that hotel unseen unless he’d had help.” He glanced past the ogre into the squad room beyond the door. The window in it now had a jagged crack created by Bowie. “Nobody out there would dare to cross me.”
Frank shifted in his seat. “Probably not, but I told you yesterday that—”
“Bowie has a cheering section. I’m aware. But cheering from the sidelines and playing the game are two different things.”
“I guess it boils down to if they like him more than they fear you.”
Tom scowled. “They fear me, all right.”
The ogre didn’t comment.
“What about Mitch Haskell?” Tom asked. “Are they still thick?”
“Dunno.”
“Find out.”
“That’s not gonna be easy. Isn’t he working undercover for the feds?”
“Find out. Also, have someone check the security cameras at the hotel, especially the rear exits.”
Frank sighed. “Look, boss, if they were caught on camera, it’ll probably show them climbing into an Uber car.”
“If that’s the case, identify that car and driver and find out when and where they were dropped off.”
“Which is exactly what Bowie would expect us to do. He’d no longer be where they were dropped.” Frank took a breath. “What I think? I think we sit back and let Bowie do all the hiding and ducking while we wait for him to show his head.”
Tom scrutinized him without saying anything until it became uncomfortable.
Belligerently, Frank said, “What?”
“It’s sounding to me like you’re scared of him, Frank.”
He didn’t like that. Not at all. Especially because there was a speck of truth to it. Physically, he could pound Bowie to mush. But Bowie was smarter than him, and he had a cold way of smiling while he was threatening to blow your head off that made you think that he would do it, and that he’d enjoy it.
Tom was still eyeing him with a faint smirk.
“Scared of Bowie?” he scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”
“Kinda sounds like that,” Tom said.
The two stared each other down, and Frank was pleased when Tom was the first to relax and break eye contact. He said, “Before you got here, I went to see the superintendent. It took only one look at me to get his authorization. He was queasy about the negative publicity it will no doubt generate, but he said he’ll put a spin on it. Something to the effect that when he spots a bad apple, he gets rid of it so it won’t spoil the whole barrel.”
“Authorization for what?”
“A warrant for the arrest of John Preston Bowie. Assault and battery and assorted lesser offenses against a police officer. That’s the official mandate.” He leaned forward across his desk and lowered his voice. “But what I really want to happen, Frank, is for you to locate the son of a bitch but not to bother with bringing him in. Got it?”
Loud and clear. “What about her?”
“Two can be disposed of in a swamp as easily as one.”
Frank grunted understanding and heaved himself up.
As he headed for the door, Tom said, “I don’t believe I need to remind you how much is riding on your success or failure.”
The ogre turned and flashed his grotesque grin. “Mainly your ass, Tom. Mainly your ass.”