The Ten-Mile Trials (20 page)

‘You see,' Dan said softly beside me, ‘we play games with them, finding the ball and playing with it, but always with the narcotic next to it so they associate the smell of the narcotic with finding the ball. A little later we put the ball and the narcotic in a container with a plexiglass top and encourage him to scratch the lid to get the ball. After a while, he'll scratch wherever he smells the narcotic. It's all play to him,' Dan said. ‘At first he always wins, he always gets to play with his ball. Later on, he only gets the ball when he finds the drug.'

‘I notice he doesn't like to move as much in here.'

‘It's the slippery floor. See how he hugs the wall?'

‘Oh, yeah, I see that now.'

‘They get used to it, but they never get to like it. These polished floors make them feel like they're on ice, they can't get a grip.'

‘You need a lot of patience,' I said.

‘Oh, yes,' he said, ‘but the dogs are so rewarding. Being a K-9 officer is the best job in the department.'

‘I believe Darrell mentioned that,' I said.

‘I bet. He's really into it. Here he comes, his lesson's finished now. We got two more to go here, so you have a few minutes to talk, if you want.'

Darrell had to do his head-rubbing extravagant-admiration bit with the dog first, and then we went out and sat on the steps. I showed him the groaty underwear I'd brought along from the drug house where Sam had jumped on the man in the closet.

‘I haven't broken the seal on these,' I said, ‘But Andy assures me there's plenty to smell here. He said something like, “These undies ought to please the most discerning dog.”'

‘That sounds like our Andy.'

I told him my idea, that with Sam's help we could use these garments to track the bad-suit guys. ‘I was thinking, maybe from one of the burglary sites to wherever they're living? Or from the pawnshop, or— Why are you shaking your head?'

‘None of our dogs would be able to do that. All our dogs are air-scenting dogs. They can detect the odor of somebody who's hiding or running away, because it's carried on the breeze. I try to put Sam downwind of where I believe the person is, and if he detects a human smell blowing toward him he will follow it to its source.'

‘You mean all those movies where the baying dogs track the escaped prisoners through the canebrake are baloney?'

‘Those are bloodhounds. They track an odor with their noses to the ground. Sam's a German Shepherd. He'll find the things we train him to find by sniffing the air.' The dog had heard his name and turned his head toward Darrell, alert, like ‘Yes? Was there something?' And Darrell, seeing that look, could not resist another gushing session of head-rubbing and telling the dog how superior he was to every other dog on earth. When he paused he said, ‘A few German Shepherds do get trained to follow a scent on the ground, Jake, but we don't have any of them here. They have to work in an area where it's warm and damp, where a scent stays on the ground a long time. But you can find a guy who's hiding under the porch, can't you, boy?' I left them there, happy in mutual admiration, and carried my dumb idea back to the station, metaphorically with my tail between my legs.

I didn't have any time to mope about my mistake, though, because my segment of the Minnesota justice system was running at top speed. I unlocked my door, put my briefcase on the console, and turned to see my doorway crowded with detectives, all with their mouths open, starting to talk. Every one of them wanted my undivided attention. ‘I got a problem,' they all seemed to be saying. ‘Help me figure this out. Where are we on this deal? Which way shall we jump?'

All except Andy, who as usual knew exactly where he was. I told him to talk first, because I knew he'd be quick – years on the police force had taught him always to do the next reasonable thing and not sweat about the small stuff, like sometimes being wrong. He told me quickly that the house with the grow garage was rented by Hogarth Peter Weber, using his social security number and driver's license.

‘Who owns it?'

‘Um . . . a corporation named Riteway.'

‘That's interesting.'

‘Is it? They own that house and four other rental properties in Rutherford.'

‘And the Reddi-Kash pawnshop?'

‘Now where'd you get that idea? I know the guy that owns Reddi-Kash. Old Greek guy by the name of, uh, Ike something.'

‘Kostas. Yes.' I told him about the recent purchase.

‘I'll be damned.' Andy did a series of facial contortions, each one uglier than the last, but they seemed to help him think. ‘Now that really is interesting.'

‘Isn't that what I just said?'

‘OK, you two,' Kevin said, ‘are you going to play Abbott and Costello all day or can I get a word in?'

‘Get in as many as you want,' Andy said. ‘I got other fish to fry.'

I said, ‘Like finding out who owns the Riteway Corporation?'

‘I know that. Sort of. Riteway is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Davilee Corporation.'

‘Like that tells me a whole lot.'

‘I know. All I've got on Davilee so far is an address in Chicago. Would you like me to follow this line of bullshit to its source?'

I smiled at him the way you smile at a clever child, and said ‘Please.' He smiled back the way an ugly, aging, spavined seen-everything-twice detective smiles on the rare days when he is having fun, and left.

‘OK, Rosie,' I said, to the outrage of Kevin Evjan, ‘you're next. Did you get the name of Ricky Anderson's dope dealer?'

‘Yes I did, and you are going to love it.' I gave her my don't-mess-with-me look and she said, quickly, ‘Arnie Aarsvold.'

‘Ole's son, no kidding?' Kevin said. ‘Hey, I love that, too.'

‘Bet you do,' Rosie said. ‘You might want to take another look at all your recent burglaries. Maybe you can hang the whole cluster of clever ones on Ole.'

‘Oh, come on,' I said. ‘I don't believe that. Ole the tree planter? Hardest-working guy I know. Works right along with the newest of his grunts. What would he be doing mixed up with a gang of thieves?'

‘Well, but didn't you just discover that this guy you think is so straight-arrow is paying his kids off the books? I'd say that's pretty unsavory.'

‘Well, true. But it doesn't stink like the drug biz.'

Rosie said, ‘Of course it's always possible his kids are in the life and he doesn't know it.'

‘You think? Looks like he's got them right under his eye most of the time.'

‘Ricky Anderson's dad has been watching Ricky pretty close, too, but he's been having a little party of his own.'

‘You're right about that. Did you get a chance to talk to Ricky himself? Did you ask him who else was in on the deal?'

‘Sure.' She shrugged. ‘He says he doesn't know.'

‘You believe him?'

‘He's a user, Jake. They all get very tricky. Maybe he doesn't know, or maybe he just isn't ready to give it up.'

‘OK,' I said, ‘you want to squeeze him some more? Or go to work on Arnie Aarsvold?'

‘Oh, Arnie's definitely next.' She had that little irrepressible gleam, like an amateur poker player drawing to an inside straight. ‘But maybe I should wait till Chris and Julie get back, huh? Didn't you say they were after something?'

‘Something Julie saw in the lists,' Kevin said. ‘That's what I came over here to tell you about, Jake. Julie made a chart of work hours and saw that two boys, Arnie Aarsvold and Tony Knowles, were listed for some of the same hours in both places.'

‘Oho,' I said.

‘You think?'

‘Damn right. Tony Knowles is the son of the other owner, isn't he? Dave Knowles?'

‘Come to think of it,' Kevin said, ‘yes.' He blinked and wrinkled his nose. ‘That sounds significant,' he said, ‘but what does it mean?'

I said, ‘It means both busy fathers have busy, busy sons who are up to something. And they might be up to it, whatever ‘It' is, with their daddies. Right, guys?' I got about ten seconds' worth of nice warm rush out of that thought before my phone rang, and the chief said, ‘Jake? Need to see you. Are Kevin and Ray nearby? Bring them along, too, will you? Please. Right away.'

‘What is it?' Kevin asked me, walking over. ‘You look a little agitated.'

‘Because he was.' I didn't want to talk about it in the hall, approaching Lulu's desk. She waved us on without a word, which probably also meant something.

‘I got another one of those heart-warming phone calls,' the chief said. ‘I'll say this, as long as somebody wants to eat my liver every few minutes, at least I know you're all busy.'

‘Who is it this time?' I asked him.

‘Dave Knowles, from Home Cleaners. We shared a committee once on a Red Cross drive, and I guess he figures that gives him a friend in the department.' He let his large blue eyes wander across our chests, as if picking his targets. But his words were matter-of-fact. ‘He wants me to tell my detectives to quit harassing him. He said, “I've been paying high taxes in this town for a good many years, I have a long list of satisfied customers who will gladly vouch for my integrity, and I'm not going to put up with being treated like a crook.” He wants me to understand that my job is on the line.' McCafferty inspected our shirt-fronts some more. I began to think I must have dribbled some breakfast.

‘We're not harassing him,' I said. ‘Honest. Just doing what we gotta do.'

‘Uh-huh. So what is it we gotta do? And for how much longer?'

We brought him up to speed, about Ricky Anderson's pusher and the double-up in hours that Julie and Chris went out to ask about.

‘Remind me,' he said, ‘does all this lead back to the homicide on Marvin Street eventually?'

‘We're confident that it does, Chief. But we can't give out any of this information yet, because we're still not sure where the leak is.'

‘I hear you,' McCafferty said. ‘I got no problem taking the punishment as long as you think you're on the right track.'

‘I'm very sure we are,' Ray said, in a suddenly take-charge voice. ‘And I'd like to urge that we stay on it and hurry, because my man in Phoenix says he's seeing some signs that the Mad Russians they've been watching out there might be getting ready to wrap it up.'

‘What?' I said. ‘I hadn't heard that.'

‘Because
I
just heard it,' Ray said. ‘You remember I told you we haven't matched their fingerprints on any database? Amos thinks the whole operation is a kind of gypsy band of illegals, moving from city to city, grabbing what they can and moving on. Looks like they're stockpiling cash, getting ready to set up a drug import business somewhere. They could go to ground if they feel threatened, though – they're not on anybody's lists. So we have to stay at arm's length till we're ready to grab them.'

‘OK,' the chief said. He looked impressed by Ray's unusually firm stance. ‘You got everything you need to follow this up?'

‘For now,' Ray said. ‘I've got all my lines out. We're ready to pounce as soon as they make one mistake. The trouble is, these rude savages are in some ways very sophisticated and careful. So far they haven't put a foot wrong.'

‘Except for leaving one dead body lying around,' I said.

‘Well, yes,' Ray said, ‘that does seem impulsive and stupid. On the other hand we haven't been able to prove they did it, so far. So they're pretty good at covering their mistakes.'

‘And all
I
need,' Kevin said, ‘is for Julie and Chris to come back with the information they went out for. If they can figure out which one of the home care specialists is doing the tip-offs, we can bring them in and pump out the rest of how this works. I'd like to pin down the local angle before we move on the transients.'

‘I agree with that,' the chief said, ‘it's the local guys I'd like to boil in oil. Especially,' he said, beginning to like the idea, ‘if it should turn out that one of them is Dave Knowles.'

‘I don't think we'll have the luxury of deciding who goes first,' I said. ‘Once this starts to go, it's all going to go at once, Chief, and we have to be ready to grab those drifters before they get away.'

The argument about that went on and on, and eventually moved to my office. When Chris and Julie came up the stairs, Kevin stuck his head out and said, ‘In here,' and they crowded in and perched on the console, looking tired and pissed off.

‘I'm beginning to think they're
all
a pack of liars,' Julie said. ‘I wish we could arrest everybody in both companies and lock them up till we get a straight story.'

‘But which ones are lying about what?' Chris said. ‘I can't seem to tell any more. At first they all looked like innocents with spades and brooms. Now they're all morphing into pushers and addicts. The longer I look, the worse they get.'

They took turns telling the story, of following Ole Aarsvold's big boots around the Yard & Garden store until he declared he'd told them everything he knew and didn't have time to talk any more. They told him they'd be back when all the kids were there, and went on to Home Cleaners. When they demanded that Dave Knowles explain the double scheduling, he insisted that the mistake could not be coming from his shop, and began to scoff at them for believing anything Ole Aarsvold said.

‘Listen,' Knowles said, ‘Ole pays his part-time kids off the books, haven't you caught on to that yet? He doesn't even know who's working there half the time. Those kids have just hoodwinked him into fattening their college funds with tax-free money.'