“I think you owe him an apology. You’ll see him at the softball game tonight, right? You should tell him you’re sorry.”
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “I can’t do that, though. I’ll get grief from him forever.”
The apology thing I wasn’t prepared for. I guess she was improvising. Kurt, I figured, would never have believed me if I told him to his face that I’d decided he was innocent. But it would surprise me if Kurt weren’t listening in on this phone call. And he’d only believe I was on the level if he was eavesdropping on me.
Whatever it took.
Sergeant Kenyon had left me a message on my cell. I took the elevator down to the lobby, drove a few blocks, and called him back. This time he answered the phone himself.
“I asked around about LME,” Kenyon said without waiting to ask why I was calling. “You may have something there. Liquid Metal Embrittlement is scary stuff. I don’t know where you’d buy the chemical-a welding supply house, maybe?”
“Or take it from an army supply depot. I have a question for you. Let’s say I somehow managed to get a piece from Trevor Allard’s car that proved something had been done to it, some kind of sabotage. Would that be evidence you could use in court?”
“The car’s scrapped, I told you that.”
“Let’s just say.”
“What’d you do?”
“I’m asking you if the evidence would be admissible.” I’d watched my share of Law and Order on TV. “You know, chain of custody or whatever it’s called.”
“It’s complicated. I’ll have to get back to you on that. See what the DA’s Office tells me.”
“Soon as you can,” I said.
He called back ten minutes later. “Okay,” Kenyon said. “One of the prosecutors here tells me that, in this state, chain of custody goes to the weight of the evidence, not its admissibility.”
“You’re going to have to speak English.”
Kenyon laughed. “And I was hoping you could explain it to me.”
“Sorry.”
“What that means is, it’s not a deal killer. Legally, you don’t have to show every link in the chain. A good defense attorney will put up all sorts of arguments, but a judge has to allow it. So…I’ve answered your question. You answer a couple of mine. Do you have the piece or not?”
“I have it.”
“Okay. And you say it proves sabotage. How do you know that? No offense, but you’re a corporate executive. Not a metallurgist.”
“I can’t tell you for a hundred percent sure that it proves the car was sabotaged. But I can tell you that it looks like a Tootsie Roll that’s been twisted and then torn off. It’s not a normal metal break.”
“What kind of piece is it?”
I hesitated. “The steering shaft.”
“Well, let’s assume for the sake of argument that you’re right. In isolation, all that would tell me is that the car was tampered with. But I’ve still got a problem. A major problem.”
“Which is?”
“Connecting it to Kurt Semko. So you’ve got to establish that he had the means to do this-this LME. That he has or had access to it.”
“He has the stuff in his apartment,” I said. “I’ve seen it. All you have to do is search his apartment.”
“We come back to this,” Kenyon said. “I told you before, unless you’re willing to be a named informant, we’re not going to have probable cause to search. If only there was some other way. He never gave you a spare key to his apartment or anything?”
“No, of course not.”
“I don’t suppose he’d invite you over.”
“Not in a million years.”
“Then how the hell can you prove he has it?”
“How can I prove it?”
“That may be the only solution. Just as you got the steering shaft on your own.”
“Maybe there’s another way,” I said.
There was, of course. Graham Runkel was working on it.
“Like what?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” I said.
57
Kurt greeted me with a wave, from a distance, and a friendly smile. I smiled back, just as friendly, said, “Hey.”
He was on the mound already, warming up. The ballpark lights were on. The opposing team, a motley crew from the Bear Stearns retail group, was already inspecting our bats. The word had gotten around. They obviously didn’t realize that, with the exception of Kurt, the remaining members of the Entronics team weren’t good enough for a doctored bat to make any difference. But they’d soon find out. Festino was consulting with the other guys.
My cell phone rang. I knew who it was, so I walked off a good distance before I answered it, on the third ring.
“I’m in,” Runkel said.
“In the house?”
“You heard me.”
He had broken into Kurt’s rented house in the town of Holliston. I could picture it in my mind, from my one visit-everything about it neat and well tended, very hospital-corners.
“Not a problem?” I asked.
“The doors were double-locked, but the overhead garage door was open. The door to the house from the garage is always the weak link. Easy to pick.”
“No alarm?”
“Rented house like this? I didn’t expect it. But count on there being a good smoke alarm system. Landlord would make sure of it.”
“You know where to look?”
“You told me.” His voice was sort of jiggling as he walked through the house. “The spare bedroom off the family room, right?”
“Right.”
“You care what I use to set off the smoke alarm? Like a doobie?”
Kurt was waving to me again, and so was Festino. “Come on, Tigger,” Festino shouted. “The business day is over. We’re starting.”
I held up an index finger.
Once Graham found Kurt’s cache of stolen weapons and explosives, he was going to open the door to the room where the cache was kept and leave it open.
So that when the fire department came, summoned by the smoke alarm, and broke in, did their usual damage, they’d see the illegal armaments, and they would call in the police. In this age of terrorism, they’d have a crime scene on their hands.
And then we’d have Kurt nailed. No arrest warrant needed, and all perfectly legal.
“Find it?” I said.
“No,” said Runkel.
“What do you mean, no?”
“There’s nothing here.”
“Okay,” I said, “if you’re looking at the fireplace in the family room, it’s the door on your right. This hollow-core door. The only one on that wall.”
“I’m there. I see which door you’re talking about. But there’s no stash here.”
“It’s there,” I said, desperation rising. Kurt was walking toward me. I lowered my voice. “I’ve seen it.”
“I’m in the room,” Runkel said. “There’s a single bed, nothing on it. The room smells a little like gunpowder, maybe. Like there used to be something here. But there’s nothing here.”
“Then he moved it. Look in the basement. Look everywhere else. It has to be there.”
“Let’s go, Jason,” Kurt said, maybe ten feet away. “You’re keeping everyone waiting.”
“Don’t give up,” I said, and hung up.
Shit.
“You’re a busy guy,” Kurt said. “Who was that?”
“It’s a contract,” I said. “Guy misplaced it.”
“That’s annoying. So you’re playing first base. Can you handle that?”
“Sure,” I said. “Kurt. About all that-all that stuff I threw at you. About the car and everything.”
He shook his head. “Not now.”
“No, I just want to apologize. I was out of line.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “That’s the past. Come on, let’s get to the field.”