04.Final Edge v5 (42 page)

"Good God, man! He's a coach in the Pee-Wee League, damn good one," complained one man who voiced his fear that they could ruin Arthur's reputation with such lies and innuendo.

Another pet owner, a woman, said, "Dr. Arthur saved my Coochee's life! He's a saint."

"No way he's capable of what you're implying," screeched a blue-haired parakeet-toting matron. "This persecuting of Dr. Arthur ought to be against the law. Have you a permit to picket his clinic in this fashion?"

It was time to leave the clinic altogether. At the car, Harry Jorganson had stood watching and listening. "I take it you found nothing," he said to Lucas.

"But we will. I called in Chang's people. They'll find proof."

"And this Dr. Belkvin? Who's going to find him?"

"We'll get him, Harry, and we'll find the missing operating table too."

"Missing operating table?" Harry asked, his features pinched in confusion.

"Ask Chang about it," Lucas called out as he and Meredyth pulled out of the lot. As they did so, they waved to Chang's CSI unit van as it arrived, followed by Steve Perelli's car. In his rearview, Lucas saw the D.A. going for Chang as the Chinese M.E. leaped from the passenger side of the van. Lynn Nielsen climbed from the rear.

"If anyone can find evidence of Mira Lourdes ever having been here," said Lucas, allowing the thought to float on the air.

"Funny," replied Meredyth.

"What's that?"

"The depth of Mother Elizabeth's naivete toward Lauralie has been matched!"

"By our Ms. Jones?"

"And her sheer gullibility toward her boss, yes."

DISAPPOINTED AT JANA North's news, and the fact the two raids had not revealed the whereabouts of either Belkvin or Lauralie Blodgett, Lucas and Meredyth wound up at a Greek restaurant called Plato's. They were enjoying a full-course meal and a bottle of Greek wine when Lucas's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He asked Meredyth for her forbearance, taking the call that originated from the precinct house.

Lucas found himself talking to Stan Kelton, who wanted to know his whereabouts, adding that he had an antsy lady claiming to have rented a farmhouse out to a young couple fitting the description of Arthur Belkvin and Lauralie Blodgett.

"Hold onto her, Stan."

"Easier said than done. She's hinky."

"If you have to sit on her, hold onto her. We're on our way." He hung up and slapped cash onto the table, sipped a final bit of wine, grabbed Meredyth by the wrist, and said, "Come on. We may have a break in die case. Jane Q. Public, claiming to have had dealings with Belkvin and Blodgett."

Lucas reestablished contact with Stan over the car radio as they drove for the 31st Precinct. "How reliable is this woman, Stan?"

"Lucas, her story sounds credible. She's a realtor and she freaked when she saw the images we posted of the fugitives. In the meantime, there's been a call for you from an inspector in the Mounted Police in Manitoba, Canada. Wants a call back, something to do with an APB you posted on the web for a Lyle Eaton, once of Houston and Seattle? They have good news for you. Seems he's doing time there as a sex offender of some sort, but his sentence is up in six months."

"That's damn good news, Stan! I want the prick on murder one."

"Closing down a Cold Case, are you, Lieutenant?" Stan asked. "Congrats. I ran into Remo when he was here, and he gave up some of the particulars. Bet you didn't know Muarice was my TO when I rookied here in '79."

Lucas imagined getting departmental funds to fly up to Manitoba with Maurice Remo, and the two of them laying out their case before this creep Eaton in his cell. The opportunity to sit across a table from the bastard who killed Yolanda Sims, to unnerve him and watch him come apart, to see him fold under the preponderance of evidence they would bring to bear... taking him through every step, every bruising blow, every soldering-iron burn, and finally the rape and murder would convince Eaton that he had no choice but to plead out in the case of a little girl whose ghost had pursued him all these fifty-odd years. Even if they could not get the death penalty for Eaton, they could nail him for a life sentence.

"You're likely to face extradition problems with Canada if you're bringing him back for execution," Meredyth said, hearing the news.

"No problem, so long as we promise Canadian officials we won't be seeking the death penalty against the creep. At his advanced age, life in prison'll suit Yolanda Sims, Remo, and me just fine. Eaton's got to be in his mid to upper sixties."

"A letter of assurance from Harry Jorganson that the State of Texas will not seek the death penalty, Lucas, would go a long way to assure your seeing him tuned over to Texas authorities."

"It'll culminate in a deal that'll please everyone except Eaton."

"Canada will rid herself of him," she added.

"We'll have closed a Cold Case, Remo will've been vindicated, and Yolanda Sims will finally rest in peace." Lucas smiled at the prospect.

Stan Kelton shouted over the radio, "Hey! Anyone there? Stonecoat?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Stan."

"It's the witness in your current case, Lieutenant."

"Did you tell her we're on our way?"

"Sure, I did, but somehow Frank Patterson got wind of her and then took her off."

"Off? Off where, damn him?"

"Interrogation room."

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

"He wasn't alone. Two FBI with him. They're questioning her now."

"Damn it all. What do we know about her, Stan?"

"She's with Lone Star Realtors, says she may have leased out a place to this vet guy, using an alias, only days before Mira Lourdes went missing."

"How shaky is our witness, Stan?"

"She's extremely sure, Lucas. I think we have to listen to her."

"Where's the rental at, Stan? Do we have an address?"

"It's in the sticks, north of the city, out some ways, Lucas."

"Remote?"

"Well...what's remote? It's all relative, isn't it?" Kelton's voice came over the radio loudly and evenly. "I suspect it's a drive, but I also suspect it may wed be the kill site, Lucas."

Two great scores in a matter of minutes. It sounded too good to be true, but the fly in the ointment was Frank and his G-men friends. "Stan, is she cooperating with Frank and his FBI buddies so far?"

"Not going well from the look of it. She's asked for a lawyer."

"Assholes! They've frightened hell out of her, no doubt with unnecessary threats."

Lucas placed the siren atop his unmarked police car, and they raced to close the distance between themselves and the new credible witness now refusing to cooperate. What had Frank and his pals done to turn an ady into an enemy? "Call Jana on that thing," he said to Meredyth, pointing to the radio. "Get her and her team back to HQ. If there's anything to this, we're going to need to assemble a small army whether the FBI is involved or not."

Meredyth did as asked. Jana was already on her way back to the 31st. Meredyth had to suddenly grab onto her door handle as they took the final turn into the lot.

When they entered, Kelton directed them to the witness claiming to have rented a property out to a guy fitting the description in the artist sketch.

"Her name's Robeson. She's right here," Kelton said as they worked past busy people in the squad room and to a glassed-in waiting room popularly called the Fish Bowl. "Why've you got her in with the degenerates?" Lucas asked.

"It's where Frank left her. They're using it as a tactic to get her to talk to them before her lawyer arrives. He's on his way, someone she picked outta this." He tapped the phone book on his desk. "Feds told Frank they think she's just another one getting in line for the reward money I think they took a hike."

"Really? Then we have a shot at her, don't we. Bring her down to the conference room. We'll hide her there for now, and we'll talk to her."

A few moments later, Lucas and Meredyth greeted Mrs. Robeson as Stan spirited her into the far more private and secure area. They introduced themselves and apologized for her ill treatment at the hands of the Feds and Frank. "It's not even their case, Mrs. Robeson. You did the right thing by not talking to them as you did, and when your lawyer arrives, Officer Kelton will bring him or her here."

Officer Kelton assured her of it, and left to man the front and to keep Frank at bay.

Mrs. Robeson, a Betty Crocker look a like, sat demurely in her comfortable swivel chair.

Lucas and Meredyth sat across from her, Meredyth offering to get her a cup of coffee.

"Really, one more cup of coffee and I go floating away I came down here to make a statement in person, to be taken seriously I made several calls to your hot line and got nowhere. No one is listening. Then what happens? I come all this way only to be treated like my sole purpose is to rob the city of that reward! So I played that stupid game just to get back at them."

Lucas cocked his head to one side. "Stupid game, ma'am? What stupid game is that?"

"In my shoe, right here. I pointed and took it off, and I told them I was getting voices from inside telling me where the Ripper is hiding out. About then they went beyond the rudeness to a kind of dumbfounded ignorance, taking me literally. 'Bout then I told them I wanted a lawyer, and they started arguing among themselves, the three of 'em."

"What a waste of your time," said Meredyth.

"It's worse than any waste of my time, Dr. Sanger. Lives may be at stake here."

Lucas asked, "Did they show you a photo array and ask you to pick out the man you rented your property to?"

"We never got that far."

"Would you do that for us?" he asked, spreading out six photos, five of which were look a likes of Belkvin and one authentic. He did the same with six females, one being Lauralie Bloodgett. Sallie Robeson selected both accurately, which came as no surprise since she had seen their images in the media.

"Tell us what you know about this man," Lucas said, tapping his finger against Belkvin's photo.

She studied the photo, pulling it up close to her eyes. "Yes, well, he rented the property out on the creek under the name of John D. Croombs."

Meredyth exchanged a knowing look with Lucas. "Croombs. He used the alias Croombs?"

"Yes," she replied.

Meredyth smiled and breathed deeply. "We're definitely onto them."

"Then you don't think me some sort of thief interested in any old reward! How refreshing. Aside from your Sergeant Kelton, I have found no one here I can trust, until now."

Kelton arrived with her Yellow Pages lawyer, a young woman who looked fresh out of law school who introduced herself to her client as Karen Cahill, and she insisted on huddling in private with her client, but first she wanted to know the charges.

The situation explained, Lucas and the others allowed Robeson and Cahill to have the room. Outside, Lucas asked Kelton what had become of Frank and the Feds when they found Robeson gone.

"They came at me. I pleaded ignorance and suggested she walked out. They argued with one another and told Frank to call them when he had some credible information. Frank's busy filling out a complaint against me, regarding my carelessness in the matter."

"Excellent."

Attorney Cahill called them back inside. "My client wishes to cooperate with authorities in any way possible, but only if she can communicate through you two, Lieu-tenant, Doctor."

"Agreed."

"Quite acceptable."

Once all were again settled, Realtor Sallie Robeson began to relate her story in earnest. "I rented to him and the woman I took to be his young bride, and when I saw her likeness in the newspaper alongside his, I knew it was the same couple. Odd couple really."

"Odd being together, you mean, an odd fit as a couple?" asked Meredyth, anxious to understand every detail.

"She coulda been his daughter, and I worried for a moment what was going on, but she was giving all the orders, you know, making all the demands. She wanted this fixed, she wanted that redone, you know the type. For the price the old place was rented for, I told her to forget about a lot of upkeep on the part of the owners. I didn't think they'd take the place. Surprised me when they did. But him with those yelping dogs, and the big pens already on the premises, well, he was sold. But overriding all concerns, it seemed she had to be happy, or it was no good."

"She called the shots," agreed Meredyth, nodding.

"So you people already have a bead on 'em, don't you?"

"We do."

"What got me...what really struck me was when I saw his mole on the tube. I was glued to it on the screen just like I had been in life. Didn't know where to look when talking to the man. Whole time I was dealing with the man, I kept thinking to myself, 'Mr. Croombs, why not at very least clip the damn hair from your mole, so it's not so damned distracting?' You know?"

"When exactly did you rent the property to Mr. Croombs?" asked Lucas.

"Two and a half, maybe three weeks ago."

"Can you pinpoint on a county map exactly where the property is located, Mrs. Robeson?" asked Lucas, guiding her to a wall where a number of state and county maps stared down on them.

"It's in the North Country area, Bridger Falls—you know, that development that fell through when the owners went belly-up?"

"I know the general area, yes," replied Lucas. "Go on."

"Well...the old farmhouse on Hazard Creek Road belonged to the Kenyon estate. Whole thing's now in probate, but the house was placed with us to sell or rent."

She pointed it out on the map, smack in the Navasota River Canyon area. From there, they went to a computer, and typing in the search window, Lucas fed it the address and die owner's name, Kenyon. The computer quickly identified the exact location, and the fact it bordered on Waller County.

Kelton had arrived again, this time escorting Jana North to their cozy hideaway, introducing her to Cahill and Robeson. Getting Sallie Robeson's okay to remain, Jana— having been coached by Kelton—thanked the realtor for indulging her. Seeing the jurisdictional overlap on the computer screen, she said, "We'd best notify and involve Sheriff Dennis Laird over there. He can bring his dogs to the party. Always bragging he's got the best police dogs in the state."