She stepped back from the car, looking around, hot and impatient in her smudged suit. The perimeter behind Kmart was secured by yellow crime-scene tape and West had no intention of letting anyone in anytime soon, and this included drivers making deliveries to the department store.
‘Where’s the truck?’ West was all business. ‘I don’t like this. Everybody’s flown the coop and other than the body, the car is the most important piece of evidence.’
‘I wouldn’t sweat it too much,’ Wills said. ‘This thing’s a pigpen of prints. They could be anybody’s, depending on how many people have been inside it, outside it, whatever. Most will probably be hers.’
‘Some will be his,’ West said. ‘This guy doesn’t wear gloves. He doesn’t care if he leaves spit, hairs, blood, seminal fluid because he’s probably some fucking piece of shit who’s just got out of some juvenile training school and all his records have been destroyed to protect his precious confidentiality.’
‘Hey, Bates,’ Wills called to her partner, ‘make sure you get the trunk good around the lock. In case he went in there.’
‘I’m way ahead of ya.’
West got on her radio and requested an officer to guard the crime scene. She got back in her car and drove around to the front of Kmart. The parking lot was full of shoppers looking for a deal. A few of them were standing in front of the store, staring at First Union Bank and speculating in hushed, excited voices. Most were inside, probably pushing carts up and down aisles, oblivious.
West pulled up to the bank and was surprised to see that Hammer was still talking to Bubba, both of them standing in the bright sun. West got out and walked toward them. She slowed her pace when the stench reached her. She stared at Bubba’s camouflage.
‘Certainly I think it’s a good idea for citizens to get involved,’ Hammer was saying to Bubba. ‘But within limits. I don’t want our volunteer police carrying guns, Mr. Fluck.’
‘Then a lot of us won’t do it,’ he let her know.
‘There are other ways to help.’
‘What about pepper spray or tactical batons? Could they carry those?’
‘No,’ Hammer replied.
West knew exactly what her boss was doing. Chief Hammer was an expert at playing people, dribbling the conversation in many directions, faking and passing until she saw an opening to score. West went along with it.
‘Well, Chesterfield’s auxiliary police carry guns,’ Bubba pointed out, swatting at flies. ‘I know a bunch of the guys. They work hard and really like it.’
Hammer noticed West’s suit. She stared at the black fingerprint powder on the jacket.
‘How’d you get smudge on…’ Hammer said without finishing, laying the trap.
‘I didn’t,’ Bubba replied. ‘Actually he’s been trying to get me on, but I’d have to move to Chesterfield.’
Hammer gave him a feigned puzzled look. ‘Excuse me?’
‘My buddy Smudge.’ Then Bubba looked puzzled, too.
‘How’d you know about him?’
‘Sorry for your inconvenience, Mr. Fluck,’ Hammer said. ‘Why don’t you go on home and freshen up. Deputy Chief West? A word with you.’
The two women walked away from Bubba.
‘That was pretty clever,’ West marveled. ‘I guess you were referring to my jacket but made it sound like you knew about Smudge.’
‘I was lucky,’ Hammer said as a car pulled into the parking lot and sped toward them. ‘And I want him under surveillance. Now.’
Roop jumped out in such a hurry he didn’t bother turning off the engine or shutting the door.
‘Chief Hammer!’ he said excitedly. ‘I got another phone call. Same guy.”
‘You sure?’ Hammer asked.
‘Yes!’ Roop exclaimed. ‘The Pikes are claiming responsibility for the ATM homicide!’
CHAPTER thirty-one
Brazil had never met Governor Feuer and it did not register that this indeed was the man walking briskly toward him and Weed on Midvale Avenue.
The man was tall and distinguished in a dark pinstripe suit. He was in a hurry and seemed very anxious about something. Brazil wiped sweat out of his eyes, his mouth so parched he could barely speak.
‘Is everything all right?’ Brazil asked.
‘I was about to ask you that, son,’ the man said.