“It was nearly four when I got here. I left around eight-thirty, came back two hours later. I’ve been out for a couple of hours.”
“Help me get this IV out,” he said.
“Keep your arm elevated,” she said. “You need to rethink this.”
“We don’t have time. Merry Michelsen is probably a lot of terrible things, but stupid isn’t one of them. If he thinks I had a role in what happened to Czernowitz, he’ll worry I got something out of him, something linking him to Fowler or bribes, or Marcus. And he’ll know from my visit to the Kopecs that I have no qualms about coming after him.”
“So…”
“He’ll come after me, hard. And you, and Czernowitz, possibly even Marcus, or his cheese factory associate, Greg Thomas. He’ll try to clean house. Before he does, I need to figure out what that factory has to do with any of this. It had the hallmarks of some shady stuff, maybe a meth super lab of some kind.”
“Gerry Tucker seemed pretty sure it wasn’t.”
“Records can be faked, ingredients hidden.”
“He seemed pretty sure. They did surprise inspections twice after their initial visit.”
“But it’s something,” Bob said. “If not meth, something equally illegal. And once I figure that out…”
“Then we take what you’ve got to the authorities,” she said.
“Then… yes. Czernowitz can clear Marcus and implicate Baird. If I can get some leverage over Thomas or Michelsen, I can get them to explain what your dad figured out—and I’m guessing it’s at that factory. Marcus goes free, the DA is handed motive, means, opportunity and a ‘hero cop’ witness who went undercover to bring them all down.”
Her eyebrows shot north. “Witty? Undercover?”
“I mean… it’s a narrative that will sell here while still getting a just result, right? So maybe we just go with what works.”
“Uh huh.” She stared down at her shoes for a minute. “Before I leave you to get dressed, I have to ask: do you want to talk about what happened to you last night? Those burns were quite bad. They’re deep; enough that there’s a risk of infection and poor healing without skin grafting. That warm sensation is Demerol.”
He nodded. “I’ve worked through Demerol before, and third-degree burns. And… no, I’m not getting into the fine details.”
“I don’t think I want to know. The Kopecs. Did you…”
“Kill them? No. But wheelchairs won’t be out of the question for a while.”
“Wheelchairs?” She shook her head. “Now I really don’t want to know.”
“You really don’t.”
“Huh. Can you buy truck nuts and Dixie flags for wheelchairs?” Sharmila wondered.
“This is America,” Bob said. “Of course you can.”
Sharmila dropped him off at the bed and breakfast, on the promise he’d take it easy for the day.
As soon as she was gone, he got back to work, retrieving a burner from his soft-sided bag.
He waited for the call to ring through. It always took a second longer than normal, Nicky’s encryption doing its work.
“Bob.”
Progress. Nicky actually used my name. “Nicky. Hope you’re well.”
“I am, but I’m busy. What’s up?”
“The jagoff I mentioned, Greg Thomas. Baird’s assistant. He’s got some sort of interest in The Big Cheese. Can you do a quick hunt, see who owns the building, if there are listed investors?”
“When do you need this?”
“Tonight, if possible.”
“You okay? You sound… strained.”
“Broken ribs and a couple of burns. Nothing new.”
“Ouch.”
“It’s nothing, just… uncomfortable. Listen, when I call back next I’ll use the three rings, hang up, two rings code. I need to get a set of new phones.”
“A set!? What did you do?”
“My soft-sided bag came along at a couple of crime scenes. The agency can get company location records, so… It’s not earth-shaking, a handful of phones. I travel lean.”
“Still Mr. Careful, right, Alph—right, Bob?”
“Yep. Speaking of which… you’re keeping your head down? I’d hate to think you’d become so preoccupied with self-enrichment that the wrong kind of people start paying attention.”
“Bob… That’s going to take some getting used to, calling you Bob. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m the soul of discretion. Nobody’s looking for Ray Edwards, solid citizen.”
