'Oh great,' she muttered as she tried to brush black fingerprint powder off her jacket.
West studied blood spatter on the rearview mirror, on the roof near it, the drips on the steering wheel and the pool of coagulating blood on the passenger's seat. When she had first arrived at the scene, Miss Sink had been slumped over on her right side, her head on the passenger's seat. There were blood spatters on her forearms and elbows and the roof above the driver's seat, and all this gave West a depressing picture.
It appeared that Ruby Sink had been sitting behind the wheel, elbows raised, hands under something, perhaps her face, when she had been shot execution style. Then the killer had climbed out of the car, and Miss Sink's body had slumped over on the passenger's seat where she had bled very briefly before dying.
'The bastard,' West said. 'Doing that in front of a baby. For two hundred fucking bucks. Goddamn son of a bitch.'
'Don't touch anything,' Wills warned her, as if West had sat behind a desk all her life.
West checked her temper. She was tired of being treated like an interloper, like an idiot, when it hadn't been so long ago that she was regarded with respect and even friendliness by a department a lot bigger and better than this one.
She stepped back from the car, looking around, hot and impatient in her smudged suit. The perimeter behind Kmart was secured by yellow crime-scene tape and West had no intention of letting anyone in anytime soon, and this included drivers making deliveries to the department store.
'Where's the truck?' West was all business. 'I don't like this. Everybody's flown the coop and other than the body, the car is the most important piece of evidence.'
'I wouldn't sweat it too much,' Wills said. 'This thing's a pigpen of prints. They could be anybody's, depending on how many people have been inside it, outside it, whatever. Most will probably be hers.'
'Some will be his,' West said. 'This guy doesn't wear gloves. He doesn't care if he leaves spit, hairs, blood, seminal fluid because he's probably some fucking piece of shit who's just got out of some juvenile training school and all his records have been destroyed to protect his precious confidentiality.'
'Hey, Bates,' Wills called to her partner, 'make sure you get the trunk good around the lock. In case he went in there.'
'I'm way ahead of ya.'
West got on her radio and requested an officer to guard the crime scene. She got back in her car and drove around to the front of Kmart. The parking lot was full of shoppers looking for a deal. A few of them were standing in front of the store, staring at First Union Bank and speculating in hushed, excited voices. Most were inside, probably pushing carts up and down aisles, oblivious.
West pulled up to the bank and was surprised to see that Hammer was still talking to Bubba, both of them standing in the bright sun. West got out and walked toward them. She slowed her pace when the stench reached her. She stared at Bubba's camouflage.
'Certainly I think it's a good idea for citizens to get involved,' Hammer was saying to Bubba. 'But within limits. I don't want our volunteer police carrying guns, Mr. Fluck.'
'Then a lot of us won't do it,' he let her know.
'There are other ways to help.'
'What about pepper spray or tactical batons? Could they carry those?'
'No,' Hammer replied.
West knew exactly what her boss was doing. Chief Hammer was an expert at playing people, dribbling the conversation in many directions, faking and passing until she saw an opening to score. West went along with it.
'Well, Chesterfield's auxiliary police carry guns,' Bubba pointed out, swatting at flies. 'I know a bunch of the guys. They work hard and really like it.'
Hammer noticed West's suit. She stared at the black fingerprint powder on the jacket.
'How'd you get smudge on…' Hammer said without finishing, laying the trap.
'I didn't,' Bubba replied. 'Actually he's been trying to get me on, but I'd have to move to Chesterfield.'
Hammer gave him a feigned puzzled look. 'Excuse me?'
'My buddy Smudge.' Then Bubba looked puzzled, too.
'How'd you know about him?'
'Sorry for your inconvenience, Mr. Fluck,' Hammer said. 'Why don't you go on home and freshen up. Deputy Chief West? A word with you.'
The two women walked away from Bubba.
'That was pretty clever,' West marveled. 'I guess you were referring to my jacket but made it sound like you knew about Smudge.'
'I was lucky,' Hammer said as a car pulled into the parking lot and sped toward them. 'And I want him under surveillance. Now.'
Roop jumped out in such a hurry he didn't bother turning off the engine or shutting the door.
'Chief Hammer!' he said excitedly. 'I got another phone call. Same guy." 'You sure?' Hammer asked.
'Yes!' Roop exclaimed. 'The Pikes are claiming responsibility for the ATM homicide!'
Chapter Thirty-One
Brazil had never met Governor Feuer and it did not register that this indeed was the man walking briskly toward him and Weed on Midvale Avenue.
The man was tall and distinguished in a dark pinstripe suit. He was in a hurry and seemed very anxious about something. Brazil wiped sweat out of his eyes, his mouth so parched he could barely speak.
'Is everything all right?' Brazil asked.
'I was about to ask you that, son,' the man said.
Brazil paused as he processed the familiar voice and fit it with the face.
'Oh,' was all Brazil said.
'I seen your picture all over the place!' exclaimed Weed.
'Looks like you two have been through it,' the governor said. 'What did you do to your chin?' he asked Weed.
'Cut myself shaving.'
The governor seemed to accept this.
'How on earth did you end up out here? Are you hurt? No backup? Doesn't your radio work?' Governor Feuer asked Brazil.
'It works, sir.'
Brazil's words were sticky, as if he had communion wafers in his mouth. His tongue got caught on every syllable. He sounded a little drunk and wondered if he was delirious. Maybe none of this was happening.
'Let's get both of you some water and out of the sun,' the governor was saying.
Brazil was too exhausted and dehydrated to have much of an emotional reaction.
'You should know I've got a prisoner,' Brazil mumbled to the governor.
'I'm not worried unless you are,' Governor Feuer said. 'My driver's state police.'
Jed smiled as he stood attentively by the limousine. He opened a back door and the governor got in. Jed nodded at Brazil and Weed to do the same.
Jed, you've got water, don't you?' Governor Feuer said.
'Oh yes sir. Chilled or unchilled?'
'Doesn't matter,' Brazil said.
'Chilled would be good,' Weed answered.
Brazil was overwhelmed by air conditioning and an expanse of clean, soft gray leather. He sat on the carpeted floor and nodded for Weed to do the same. The governor gave them an odd look.
'What are you doing?' he asked Brazil.
'We're pretty sweaty,' Brazil apologized. 'Wouldn't want to mess up your upholstery.'
'Nonsense. Have a seat.'
Air conditioning blasted their drenched clothes. Jed slid open the glass partition and handed back a six-pack of chilled Evian. Brazil drained two bottles, barely breathing between swallows. A stabbing sensation ran up his sinuses to the top of his head. He bent over in agony and rubbed his forehead.
'What is it?' the governor asked, alarmed.
'Ice cream headache. I'll be fine.'
'Those are miserable. Nothing worse.'
'Uhhh.'
'I get 'em when I drink Pepsi too fast,' Weed commiserated.
Jed's voice came over the intercom. 'Where to, sir?'