All the stuff that had been kept in my refrigerator; butter, oranges, left over pizza, cranberry juice, doggy bags from restaurants, ice cube trays, was all scattered across my kitchen counter. The beer was missing. Nothing was left out that twenty-four hours in humid weather wouldn’t help make worse. It was the second time that week I’d cleaned up a gallon of melted ice cream. I bagged everything and threw it all in the trash, opened the windows to air things out.
Louie phoned later that evening, I could hear glasses clinking and the low hum of background conversation.
“How you holding up?” he asked.
“I’ve been worse, but it’s been a while.”
“They grab that refrigerator?”
“The one in the garage? Yeah. They also took the one in my kitchen, virtually all my tools, my table saw, all my knives, God knows what else.”
“Well I know it’s a pain, but it’s not like there’s anything to find, right?”
“That’s what you said before and then they found that finger in my garage. I don’t know, I just want all this over and done with, it sucks big time.”
“Mmm-mmm,” Louie said after swallowing, “Yeah not fun. For what it’s worth I got a call from a source over at BCA.”
“The crime analysis folks, what’d they have to say?”
“About all they could confirm was they got a finger.”
“I could have told them that.”
“Nothing from any data base, no match. He said it had been frozen, before, the finger that is.”
“Just like King’s,” I said absently.
“What?”
“The guy I spoke with in Denver, King Quinn, Kingston, actually. He said they determined the same thing, the finger out there had been frozen. That was the one taped to the door of the bus. They couldn’t link it to anything in their data base, the CODIS data base. Might be worth a heads up to your source, see if they want to contact King, maybe together they can come up with anything.”
“Give me his name again,” Louie said, “I’m writing it down on a bar napkin. Got a phone number?”
Once we were finished and I’d hung up Louie’s call got me thinking, I called Andy Lindbergh.
“Hi Andy, Dev Haskell, sorry to bother you at home.”
“No problem, Dev, but if you’re calling for bail money the answers no,” he half joked.
“No, they just held me for questioning, but I’m out now, not fun, let me tell you.”
Dead silence on the other end.
“Andy?”
“You serious?”
“Yeah, not to worry, say let me ask you something. You were telling me the other day about the crematorium, maybe a place to, as you said, harvest.”
“You’re back on the fingers, right?”
“Yeah. Let me ask you a question, we’ve gotten results back on two fingers. I’m guessing here, but what are the chances of two random fingers not matching DNA anywhere in our data bases?”
“From two different individuals?”
“Most likely,” I said.
“Sort of eliminates the usual suspects.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the usual suspects, criminals, someone who has been convicted of a felony, sex offenders. You mentioned a bunch of cities, right?”
“Yeah four, plus here, so that’s actually five, now.”
“Okay, the set up varies from state to state, but in general it’s criminals, your violent offenders, guys guilty of sex crimes. I think in a couple of states they may have extended it to guys who have been charged, but not convicted. Anyway, individuals in that area of the criminal justice system. Based on what you’ve told me one would think it’s that sort of individual involved. But, the results, at least initially don’t seem to confirm your supposition.”
“Yeah, all CODIS, I get that part. Okay, despite your use of big college words even I get it. What about other countries?”
“A lot of them have a similar system.”
“What about England?”
“The UK? Yeah they have a database, actually, I think their system predates ours and is a little more thorough. I suppose you could theoretically check their system or Interpol or something like that, nab some major international villain. But you’d have to be dealing with a major crime, murders, plural. Multiple tons of drugs. I mean this deal is weird, the women are good looking, but it’s not even a blip on the screen of international law enforcement.”
I spent the rest of the night online, looking at illicit dating sites.
Chapter Thirty
I checked my bedroom clock as I reached for my cell phone, seven-ten in glowing green numbers.
“Hask,” I had to clear my throat, “Haskell Investigations.”
“Gee, sorry, hope I’m not disturbing that much needed beauty sleep of yours,” the voice sounded way too cheery and not at all sorry, I heard the gum cracking.
“Detective Manning?”
“I suppose you’re already at your desk.”
I laid back, let out a long sigh, this couldn’t possibly go my way.
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Wonder if we might chat, I…”
“Let me get in touch with my attorney.”
“I got a better idea, how about I send a car around, say fifteen minutes?”
“Are you going to arrest me, again?”
“No, actually Haskell, much as that would make my day, the answer is no, you will not be put under arrest. In fact, we’ll be chatting in my office.”
“Chatting?”
“Just a few informal questions.”
“In your office?”
“Yes, how do you take your coffee.”
“Actually, I’m into double Latte’s now-a-days,” I said, hoping to be difficult.
“I’ll have a driver there for you in fifteen minutes.”
I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, put some coffee on, then went back up to shower. I had just stepped out of the shower and was toweling off when my doorbell rang. I wrapped the towel around my waist and went downstairs to open the door figuring Manning had probably sent some more weightlifters bent on intimidation and they’d break the door in just for practice.
The bell rang a second time just as I got to the entryway. I saw the back of a blue uniform shirt through the window and opened the door. The officer turned to face me just as I opened door.
“You didn’t have do that for me,” she smiled, nodding at the towel wrapped around my waist.
I missed a couple of beats as I stared into the dark brown eyes and gorgeous face of an Asian female officer. Her eyes held a definite sparkle. I glanced down from her face and stared at the embroidered in gold thread over her breast pocket, Trang, L.
“You are Mister Devlin Haskell, right?” she smiled.
“What?”
“Are you Mister Devlin Haskell?” As she asked she stepped back and double checked the address numbers next to my front door.
“Yes, yes I’m sorry officer I, well you caught me off guard. Look I’ll be ready in just a minute. I just got the phone call a few minutes ago. Please, please come in?” I stepped back to let her in but decided against asking her upstairs to help me get dressed.
She seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded.
“I guess that would be okay.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee? I just put some on.”
“That would be fine” she said and followed me into my kitchen. I sensed her looking around checking things out as we walked toward the rear of the house. She stared for a moment at the open space my refrigerator used to inhabit. Maybe she noticed the three or four years worth of dust balls that had accumulated. Maybe it was the three or four tops to old beer bottles or the unset, empty mouse trap. If she did notice she was gracious enough not to say anything.
I pulled a mug out of the cabinet, poured some coffee and handed it to her.
“Thanks.”
“Milk?” I asked, then remembered I didn’t have any.
“No, black is fine.”
“I’ll just get changed upstairs and be back down,” I said, pouring a mug for me.