Next to her a man from a competing station popped to his feet. „What can you tell us about the letters that were received by the victims of the five dead men?“
„We are not commenting on that at this time.“
Zoe rose to her feet and pretended not to listen to the rustling murmurs of her peers. „Lieutenant, can you comment on the personal letters received by ASA Mayhew dedicating the murders to her and declaring himself her humble servant?“
She’d guessed the part about the murders being dedicated to Mayhew, but quickly saw she’d guessed right.
Murmurs became mutters and exclamations and from her plum spot on the first row she could see Spinnelli’s jaw clench hard in anger, if not in surprise. Showing her hand to Mayhew this morning had been necessary to confirm her lead, but unfortunately it had also given Spinnelli time to mentally prepare. It was still a direct hit and she let herself bask in the thrill of the scoop.
„We have no comments at this time,“ Spinnelli said evenly, but the deed was still done. Zoe looked at Mayhew from the corner of her eye. Mayhew stood straight and tall, her face perfectly composed as the flashes now aimed at her face. Damn, but Zoe had to respect her for keeping her cool when it was important. It was probably why Mayhew was Alden’s top prosecutor. She knew when the public was watching and played it well.
„But all the victims had been defendants unsuccessfully prosecuted by ASA Mayhew,“ Zoe pressed. „Do you have any words for the other men and women who are out on the street because Mayhew was unable to get a conviction?“
One of the men behind her said, „Duck!“ which sent skitters of laughter through the press, but it was obvious neither Alden nor Spinnelli was amused.
Spinnelli pointed at a reporter from WGN. „Next question.“
Zoe sat, pleased. Sometimes a blatant dismissal said more than a direct response.
„Are you looking for a single killer or a group?“ asked WGN.
„No comment,“ Spinnelli said. „Next?“
„You only have two detectives assigned to this case when you’ve put teams of four or more on other serial murder cases.“ The observation came from a Trib correspondent and brought more murmurs. „Should the public assume you’ve placed less significance on the murders of these men because they were accused criminals?“
Spinnelli’s jaw clenched harder and Zoe could see a muscle twitching in his cheek. The Trib had struck a chord. That would be an interesting angle, she thought, the conflict of interest in this case. How many cops really wanted this vigilante caught?
And how scared were Mayhew’s lost cases likely to be right now? She thought about Mayhew’s most recent loss. Angelo Conti would be sure to have a response, especially if she caught him coming out of a bar. It wouldn’t be real news, but it would be great copy. And sometimes great copy created great news. What a deal.
Amid the mutters and flashes, Spinnelli said evenly, „We have assigned Detectives Reagan and Mitchell to this case. Both are experienced and well-qualified. They are backed up by the full resources of CPD. This case is staffed appropriately.“
John Alden rose to his feet. Spinnelli moved to one side to allow Alden to speak.
„Lieutenant Spinnelli and I are in full agreement on the staffing and plans for this investigation. We have no further comments at this time.“
Together the two men left the podium and Zoe had to admit they were both fine, fine specimens of pure American male, Spinnelli in his dress uniform, Alden in his expensive suit. But now was not the time for idle wandering.
She had a report to prepare before six o’clock. She hoped Angelo Conti was drunk.
Friday, February 20,
4:15 p.m.
The guy behind the glass counter was built like a Sherman tank, which was a good thing because under the glass was a most formidable display of firearms.
„Guy’s almost as well stocked as that Dorsey idiot,“ Mia muttered behind him and Abe chuckled. She was right. Unfortunately both the Dorsey idiot and his wife had rock-solid alibis for the nights King and Ramey disappeared and for the hours they believed their humble servant delivered his notes early Thursday morning.
The tank behind the counter narrowed his eyes. „Can I help you?“
Abe flashed his shield, Mia following suit. „I’m Detective Reagan and this is Detective Mitchell.“ The man’s eyes flickered in recognition, his mouth bent in a sneer.
„Only a matter of time,“ he declared bitterly.
„Why do you say that, sir?“ Mia asked.
„Some guy pops a few and suddenly the cops are crawling all over legitimate gun owners.“ He shook his head in disgust.
„Actually, we’re here to ask your help,“ Abe said and the man scoffed.
„Right. So what?“
Abe leaned his hip against the counter, lifted his shoulder in a shrug. „So, you obviously know why we’re here. We’re looking for the guy who popped a few and who’s getting ready to pop a few more. We picked your store because you host a marksmanship competition and we’re hoping you’ll cooperate and give us the list of entries without making us go to all the trouble of getting a warrant.“
The Sherman tank got smug. „Get a warrant.“
Abe sighed. „I was hoping you’d be reasonable.“
„He will be. Give the man the list, Ernie.“ A tiny old woman appeared from the back of the store, her arm in a sling. „I’m Diana Givens, the owner of this store. This is Ernie, my nephew. He’s been helping me run things while I was laid up.“ She extended her uninjured hand and Abe shook it. „I saw the press conference, Detective. I know who you are and why you’re here.“ She turned to Ernie. „Get the folder from the upright cabinet in the office. Now, Ernie,“ she snapped and Ernie did her bidding, slouching and muttering all the way. „Damn boy thinks he’s the next president of the NRA,“ Givens muttered. „I run a clean place here, Detectives. I obey gun sale laws and run all buyers through the system. I don’t think it does a damn to stop crime, but I obey the law. I’ll cooperate with you however I can.“
„Then maybe you can help us a little more,“ Mia said, staring at a display case on the wall. „You’ve got a great collection here. My dad’s a collector. He’s got a LeMat, mint.“
Diana Givens visibly softened, her eyes taking on a possessive light. „Mint?“
„Um-hmm.“
„If he wants to sell it, I’m interested.“
Mia turned with a half smile. „He’s leaving it to me someday. I don’t plan to part with it, but thanks. We’re looking for a marksman who hunts.“
The old woman stuck her tongue in her cheek. „That narrows it down, honey.“
Mia smiled. „I know. He likely hunts duck and deer. Do you keep track of ammo sales by customer? We’ll look for someone who buys both kinds.“
„You hunt?“ Diana Givens asked her.
Mia looked amused. „I have. Not a lot, but I know my way around the forest. Bagged a three-point buck once with my dad. Mom made venison stew for a month.“
„Why didn’t you say anything back at the morgue when Jack suggested hunters to Julia?“ Abe asked.
Mia grimaced. „Because I wanted Jack to have his moment in the sun in front of Julia. She barely notices his existence and he’s been practically tripping over his damn tongue for the last year.“ Mia leaned on the counter, eye to eye with the diminutive Givens. „Can we check your records, Miss Givens?“