Then, as if to remind him that drinking was a foolish plan, a tapping on the glass of the storm door interrupted his solitude. He looked over and saw Curt Dickes outside, shuffling back and forth on his feet as if dancing to music that only he could hear.
Stride groaned and got off the sofa and opened the door. “Curt. What the hell are you doing here?”
“Hey, Lieutenant. Can I come in?”
“Oh, sure,” Stride replied acidly. “Why not?”
Curt wandered into the porch with his hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy shorts. He had his long, greasy black hair tied behind his head, and he wore a black T-shirt from Fitger’s Inn. His eyes shot to the six-packs on the table next to the sofa. “Golden IPA,” he said. “Cool. Can I have one?”
Stride rolled his eyes. “Knock yourself out.”
Curt grabbed a can of beer and popped the top. He slouched on the sofa and stretched out his long legs. “How’s Kitty Cat? I wanted to make sure she’s okay.”
Stride sat down on the sofa, too. “She’ll be fine.”
“Good. Good. That’s great. I like her, you know. I like her a lot. Not that I’d ever touch her. No way. We’re friends, and that’s all.”
Stride smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me, Curt. Serena’s the one to be concerned about.”
“Oh, yeah. This I know.”
“So what do you want?” Stride asked.
“Well, like I said, I wanted to check in about Cat. I figured you might be pissed about her running off with Colly. That’s Colleen, my girlfriend. By the way, just so you know, your boy Brayden didn’t do anything wrong. He was watching her like a hawk. I mean, really watching. But Cat never met a man she couldn’t outsmart.”
“I’m aware,” Stride said.
Curt squirmed restlessly on the sofa. He drank his beer fast. When he was done, he eyed the six-pack again, and Stride shrugged. Curt belched and took another. “Word is, you can’t really do anything about Wyatt stalking Cat. Not legally, I mean. No proof.”
“For the moment.”
“Uh-huh.” Curt rolled the cold beer can around in his hands, and Stride could tell he was nervous. “You know, I like you, Lieutenant. Always have. Even when you’re arresting me, you play fair. Maybe more than I deserve. Plus, you’ve got the hottest wife in town. Props for that.”
“Thanks,” Stride said warily.
“You’re Duluth born and raised, like me. We lifers have to stick together, right? We help each other out. Somebody’s in trouble, we do something about it.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning if you can’t touch Wyatt, maybe I can, know what I’m saying? I’ve got friends. No names or anything. But if you want the guy whacked, I can probably make that happen. Absolutely off the books. It would never come back on you.”
Stride felt a headache coming on. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead. “Curt, did you really just go to a police officer’s house and offer to have somebody whacked?”
“Hey, if you want, I could just have him roughed up. To send a message, you know?”
“I’m going to do both of us a favor and forget you ever said any of this, Curt. Okay? Just to be one hundred percent clear, you are not to touch Wyatt or solicit anyone else to harm him in any way. Got it?”
Curt shrugged. “Got it.”
“Do you really? This is not a wink-wink kind of thing. Stay away from him.”
“Yeah, okay. I was just thinking about Cat. I want to help her. Really.”
“I get that, Curt.”
Curt finished his next beer and belched again. He pushed himself off the sofa, but rather than leave, he stood on the porch looking uncomfortable.
“Is there something else?” Stride asked.
“Sort of. This isn’t about Cat. I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“Well, it can’t be worse than what you’ve said already.”
Curt’s lips pursed into a frown. “Except this involves kind of an on-going enterprise that could get me into trouble.”
“Give me a clue. If it’s not about Cat, what’s it about?”
“That guy you found. Ned Baer.”
Stride sat up straighter. “Talk to me.”
“I would, except it might be bad for business.”
Stride got off the sofa and put a firm hand on Curt’s shoulder. “We’ll call my porch the immunity zone. You get a free pass for anything you tell me here. What’s going on?”
Curt’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Okay, here’s the thing. You know I have a lot of entrepreneurial ventures. Some a little more legal than others. One of the things I do occasionally — and I’m talking very occasionally, hardly ever — is help people acquire handguns without a lot of red tape about permits and all. Especially out-of-towners who may be under time constraints about their purchases.”
Stride’s headache began to get worse. “I’m regretting my offer, Curt.”
“Seriously, it’s not often. Not anymore. In the old days, it was a bigger part of Curt, Inc., but not now. Anyway, the thing is, seven years ago, this guy Ned Baer bought a gun off me.”
“Ned bought a gun?” Stride asked in surprise. “Are you sure it was him? That was a long time ago.”
“I’m sure. His photo was in the paper, and I remember him clear as anything. When I met him, I was wearing a ZZ Top T-shirt, and he told me he was a roadie for the band back in college. So we spent a couple of hours comparing notes.”
“Do you remember the gun you sold him?”
“H&K 9 mm. That’s mostly what I sell.”
“Did Ned say why he wanted a gun?”
Curt nodded. “Oh, yeah. He wanted protection. He said somebody was following him, and he thought they might try to kill him.”
22
Maggie had never met Devin Card before, but when the Congressman walked into Peter Stanhope’s office early in the morning, she could feel the electricity that he conveyed. You could hate politicians on television, but it was very hard to hate them face to face. His handshake was solid. His blue eyes were like lasers. His smile was focused on her and no one else, making her feel like the only person in the room. Plus, he was a big, handsome former quarterback, infectious in his self-confidence.
She had to remind herself: Blood and semen on the sheets.
“Sergeant, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Card said. “I don’t need to tell you how important the work you do is. It’s an honor whenever I meet a police officer. And the team here in Duluth is truly the best.”
“Thank you, Congressman.”
Card’s gaze shifted to Dan Erickson as if they were old friends, and he shouldered his way around the conference table with a big grin. “Dan, look at you, that suit, that tan. Making the most of the corporate deals, I see. You and Peter, I swear. If I’m reincarnated in my next life, I want to come back as a lawyer.”
“Funny, I think I’d come back as a politician,” Dan replied.
“Oh, no. You dodged a bullet, Dan. Trust me, it’s like walking around with a permanent target on your chest. All you do is spend half your days and nights dialing for dollars.”
Maggie heard the subtext in Card’s comment. Once upon a time, Dan had been the golden boy with political ambitions and a shot at Congress, but then his career had imploded. She could see from the frozen expression on Dan’s face that he hadn’t missed Card’s meaning.
“Why don’t we sit down?” Peter Stanhope interrupted them. “We know the importance of your investigation, and we wanted to make sure you had a chance to ask your questions.”
Dan took a seat on the opposite side of the conference table, and Maggie sat next to him. “You mean, so you can tell everyone how cooperative you’re being?” he asked.