"The videotape," LaMoia repeated.
The ruddy-cheeked man grinned. "I grabbed it that night, knowing it was my insurance package. Locked it away good and tight. And if anything happens to me, it goes directly to KSTV's News Four at Five."
"Oh . . . my . . . God," Boldt gasped, realizing Chapman had images that could ID the cops responsible for the theft. "I.I. caught on, how?"
Chapman explained, "I loosened a wire, put a blank tape into the VCR, hoping to satisfy I.I. But it didn't, of course. The Flu hit. I.I. sent Sanchez to talk to me."
LaMoia guessed. "You reported that visit to Krishevski."
Daphne read the man's face. "Not Krishevski. Then to whom?"
"I need that tape," Boldt said.
"It's hidden. They watch me. Probably you too, now.
They want that tape. They get hold of it, and a week from now you'll find me face down in my shower, or lying up next to Sanchez with my neck broke."
"Where does Krishevski fit in?" Boldt inquired, recalling the man's visit to his home two days before.
"Don't look at him for this."
"He knows about your videotape."
"I imagine that's right."
Daphne said, "Having part of the story isn't going to help."
Chapman agreed, but couldn't quite bring himself to talk.
Boldt reminded Chapman, "When we looked in the warehouse for the rifle, there was a rifle. Your doing?"
"I've never tampered with evidence. Never will."
"Those videotapes," Daphne said. "You tampered with those."
"Hey!" he complained. "Those weren't part of Property. You show me one piece of paper saying those were part of Property."
LaMoia tipped back in his kitchen chair. "Okay." He sighed. "I say we leave this for I.I. to mop up. He's not going to help us."
Chapman looked over at Boldt, the first real sign of fear on his face.
Boldt looked the man in the eye. "You don't want to go down on the record as having told anyone anything."
Daphne added, "Because you've seen what they did to Sanchez."
Chapman told her, "I got a family. I got kids."
Boldt suggested, "So I'll tell you what's right, and you'll stop me where I'm wrong."
Chapman nodded his okay.
Boldt closed his eyes and assembled the pieces. When he reopened them, he looked straight at Chapman. The two pairs of eyes locked together. "You figured out these guns were stolen and you accused Krishevski because his guys were on that tape." He paused. Chapman made no corrections. "Either he told you, or you figured out he wasn't directly involved. So when Sanchez shows up four different times, asking questions, Pendegrass gets worried. The next day Sanchez is in the hospital." Another pause. Chapman's eyes were glassy. "Your loyalty is to the room itself, not to any officer. Krishevski feels pretty much the same as you do. Knowing you possess this incriminating tape, Krishevski suggests his boys will return the stolen weapons. They'll make it right, if you keep quiet. And until you and I pulled that gun off the shelf, you thought they had returned them." He added, "How am I doing?"
Chapman said, "Krishevski couldn't believe his guys could do such a stupid thing. Blamed himself for leaking news of the sickout. Practically begged me to let him set it right. He's not the one you're after."
"Schock and Phillipp take over the I.I. case for Sanchez and pay a couple visits to Property. You're thinking Pendegrass is checking the log, and you're worried for them. You go to the Cock and Bull looking for Pendegrass, to tell him to lay off Schock and Phillipp, but they're right behind you, and Pendegrass and company take a baseball bat to their heads as well—in part to scare you, to let you know who's boss."
Again, Chapman made no corrections.
"Krishevski calls me anonymously because he suspects his boys did Schock and Phillipp. He won't condone that. He knows they need to be stopped. He plays it cool when I show up at the bar, putting on a good act." Boldt paused. No comments from Chapman. "I call down to Property and get Riorden. I start asking about visits by Schock and Phillipp, and suddenly I'm on the list." He paused. "I've got to have that tape, Ronnie."
"No chance! But you don't need me!"
"Help me out here, Ronnie."
"I.I. installed two cameras, one upstairs at the street entrance, one downstairs on level two." He hesitated. "They switch tapes once a day. Fresh ones in place of the ones for the day before. So I knew my switch had to be done that night, before they arrived to put in the fresh tapes. I replaced the tape in the camera on sublevel two with a copy, and took the real tape for myself. Figured it might take them a while to realize. My guess was they marked and stored the tapes and kept them around in case any more vandalism was reported. Maybe erased them after a while, for all I know."
"It leaves me the tape for camera one," Boldt said, finally understanding.
"I don't know if it will do you any good, just seeing a car pull into the garage. I've got the one with the actual business going down, and it stays with me. I don't think they're too worried about that other one. A couple cops coming and going. Where's the foul? But you, Lou. Maybe you can make something out of it."
"Maybe so," Boldt said, glancing at LaMoia, who was already wearing a grin.
C H A P T E R
65
Boldt climbed the steps of the Pendegrass home with difficulty, due to the walking cast. In his hand, he nervously wormed the keys to the Crown Vic and the black remote that opened the doors or trunk. In his left hand he carried a videotape.
In a quick shuffle, he had sent Liz and the kids across town to stay at the Four Seasons for the night, promising his wife it was only as a precaution. Liz loved the Four Seasons. She had accepted the request surprisingly calmly, despite the late hour. Boldt took this as a sign they were on the mend. He climbed the steps hoping that he and LaMoia and Daphne had prepared for any and every eventuality, knowing full well that one never could. There were always holes in any plan, especially those made hastily.
He drew in a deep breath and knocked sharply on the door.
Pendegrass answered. He wore those same Air Nikes that Boldt remembered only too well. The two men stared at each other.