"Yeah. He was precocious. He usedeverything when he was a kid," Jael said. "Then he went to New York and he met Mapplethorpe just before he died, and knowing Mapplethorpe did something to Plain's brain."
"Mapplethorpe. You mean the photographer?"
"Yes, completely decadent. Plain used to go on rants, about how Mapplethorpe had this good talent that never came to anything, because he killed himself."
"Suicide?"
"No, he died of AIDS, but he was notorious for putting anything and everything into his body, and into anybody's else's body. Anyway, Plain got to see the end of that whole thing, and he stopped using." She snapped her fingers. "Just like that. He was going to live forever."
"So Lansing. He didn't know her," Lucas said.
"Maybe knew her, didn't buy from her."
"Okay." That's what Plain had told them.
"Does any of this help?" Jael asked.
"Yeah. We couldn't get any traction. We couldn't figure out why anybody would kill either of these women, or your brother, for that matter. Dope was always a possibility, but if Sandy Lansing was dealing, then it becomes a serious possibility."
As they got back to her house, Lucas asked casually, "Are you still using?"
"Oh, you know, sometimes. Just a little pop."
"It'll kill you, Jael." He liked her name; it rolled smoothly off the tongue. "You gotta stop."
"I need to get smoothed out sometimes," Jael said.
"Smoke a little grass. Stay away from the heroin."
"Not the same," she said. But she was amused again. "I should have been recording this: a cop telling me to smoke a little grass."
"Grass'll kill you, too," Lucas said. "But not until you're eighty."
At the house, they sat on the stoop and talked, Lucas trying to tug the conversation back to the party, looking for another name, another hint. "Look, I'm not going to tell you any more names," she said. "If I thought it would really help, I wouldbut it won't."
A city car pulled to the curb, and Sherrill got out. "Sherrill likes you a lot," Jael said. He could feel her watching his face.
"I like her a lot," Lucas said. He half turned. "Sherrill and I have a little history. That's all over. We weren't good for each other."
"She talks tough," Jael said.
"Sheis tough."
"Tough as you?"
Sherrill was coming up to them. Lucas said, "Maybe."
Sherrill said, "How's it going?"
Her eyes slid from Lucas to Jael, and Jael stood up and said, "Fine. I better go call my lawyer, though."
"What, did he whack you around or something?"
"We're notthat friendly yet," Jael said.
She went inside, and when she was out of earshot, Sherrill asked, "What happened?"
"She says Sandy Lansing was the dealer. She says Lansing could get anything you wantnot like she was a housewife with a neighborhood connection."
"You think somebody killed Lansing for dope?"
"Mmm I don't know about that. But III bet it's tied in somehow," Lucas said. "Somebody owed her too much, and was afraid of what was gonna happen. Or blackmail. Maybe she was trying to squeeze one of her clients and he didn't like it. Who knows, maybe she had a competitor in the crowd."
"This is good," Sherrill said. "But you can't stop thinking about Alie'e. If Lansing was killed because she saw something with Alie'e, then there could be a whole 'nother thing going on that we don't see yet."
"I know. That bothers me. But I can't see any connection between Lansing and Amnon Plain, or Lansing and Jael. Plain has to be hooked into Alie'e, or we're completely off the track."
"If it's Olson what, we're talking some kind of revenge trip for what happened to his sister? Taking out the sinners who led her into the pathways of evil."
"Sounds like a TV show."
"Everything in this case sounds like a TV show," Sherrill said.
"You think we ought to start tracking him? Olson?"
"We oughta think about it," Sherrill said. "We got fifteen guys working on this case, and most of them are standing around bullshitting with each other."
"I'll talk to Lester," Lucas said. He looked back at the house. "You'll take Jael down for the statement?"
"Yeah. I'm gonna take off at five, though. Tom Black is gonna pick up at five."
"Good. Keep her covered."
"Pretty interesting, isn't she?"
Lucas leaned forward, dropped his voice. "You know what I'd like to do? Get about three of them, you know, on a king-size bed. Some really funky blond lesbians stacked up around me, this big Davenport-lesbo sandwich"
She put her hand on his chest and pushed. "So sad, these erotic fantasies in aging men. Three blondes in bed with Lucas, all that relish and one little weenie."
They were laughing together when Jael came out. "He can't do it until three. We're supposed to meet him at his office, and we can walk over to City Hall." She looked at Lucas. "He didn't want me to do it. I told him I wanted to."
Lucas said goodbye and headed back downtown. Del was waiting, ready to go kick doors. "We got a statement from Outer, but his lawyer about had a hernia. He said the deal was a violation of everything sacred in the law."
"What'd Outer say?"
"Not much. But we got him cold on the dope, so we're good. And I've got warrants for Logans home, and Bee's home and offices."
"Where's the first one?"
"North Oaks. Bee's home." Del read out the address.
"See you there in twenty minutes," Lucas said. He still needed whatever information Bee and Logan had. Lansing may have been Alie'e's dealer, but she had also been the other victim.
James Bee lived in a stone-fronted ranch-style house much like Lucas's own, with frontage on a small, dark lake. Lucas arrived as Del's city car, a Minneapolis squad, and a Ramsey County sheriff's squad were turning up the long black-topped driveway. Lucas followed them in through a scattering of big oaks, their dead leaves gone a hard stiff brown color.
A narcotics cop named Larry Cohen got out of the passenger side of Del's car, the warrants in hand. The Minneapolis cops got with the sheriff's deputies and headed for the door, while Del dropped back, waiting for Lucas. "This is a long goddamn way around."
"Yeah, but if we can nail him down I'll bet he knows his competitors."
The door was answered by a thin blond woman in black spandex tights and a T-shirt advertising the Twin Cities Marathon. Lucas could hear her screeching at the cops, and then one of the sheriff's deputies broke away and started running around the side of the house, one of the Minneapolis cops six feet behind him.
The other Minneapolis cop was pushing inside, his gun drawn now, while the sheriff's deputy drew his gun and moved up next to a picture window and peeked through. Over his shoulder he yelled, "We got a runner."
Lucas and Del trotted toward the house, drawing their weapons. Inside, the Minneapolis cop had the blonde lying on the floor, facedown. She was screaming, "There's nobody else, for God's sakes, there's nobody else."
They took the house slowly, five minutes to work through it. When Lucas came back up the basement stairs, his pistol reholstered, he found the woman sitting on the couch, her hands cuffed behind her. The second sheriff's deputy was standing over her.
"We got him," the deputy said. "There was no way he was gonna run away from Rick."
"He runs in marathons," the blonde said.
"So does Rick," the deputy said.
Del came out of the back of the house and said, "We're all clear. Office in the back."
Lucas followed him to the office. A paper Rolodex sat on the back of the desk, and Del started going through it while Lucas cranked up the computer. The phone rang, and Lucas picked it up and said hello.
"Hey is this Jim?"
"He's out back," Lucas said. "Can I have him call you?"
"Yeah. Tell him to call Lonnie? Is this Steve?"
"Naw, this is Lucas."
"Okay, whatever. I need to talk to him pretty quick."
"You got a number?"
"He's got it."
"Just in case?"
"Yeah, okay"
Lucas copied down the phone number and said, "We'll get back to you."