‘‘Ms. Klein! You are KSTV’s state employee of the week!’’ Stevie glanced to her left, toward the managing supervisor’s office and the man in the button-down shirt and tie who occupied the doorway.
‘‘Gwen!’’ the supervisor shouted. He nodded toward her teller window, indicating for her to return.
Klein stopped, looking first to the supervisor and then to the waiting room with its seventy citizens and McNeal with her team. She had a weighty decision to make.
If the woman ran, Stevie was prepared to turn her interview hostile. She too held her breath. ‘‘Let’s hear it for Ms. Klein,’’ Stevie prodded.
The room broke into applause.
The supervisor once again indicated the teller window.
Klein, distraught and churning, offered Stevie a mean-spirited look and returned to her window where Stevie and her crew waited.
The supervisor licked his fingers and spit-combed a few strands of hair off his shining forehead.
Klein and Stevie stepped face to face.
‘‘Ms. Klein,’’ Stevie began in a voice of seeming adulation for her subject. ‘‘Gwen! It has come to the attention of this reporter, and KSTV viewers and staff, that you approach your job not only with diligence, but with enthusiasm, joy and efficiency.’’ She paused just long enough for her gallery to sparsely applaud. ‘‘In a world that moves too fast for most of us, and a job where the lines move too slowly. .’’ another pause for the requisite laughter ‘‘. . you are an inspiration to all of us. KSTV would like to present you with. .’’ she vamped for an appropriate-sounding gift, since nothing had been arranged, ‘‘dinner for two at the Palomino restaurant in City Center, and two tickets to the musical Rent, now playing at the Fifth Avenue Theater.’’ The crowd lit up with applause. ‘‘Here is our IOU, which you can redeem-later on,’’ she emphasized, ‘‘at the KSTV studios.’’ She slipped a folded three-by-five card across the stone countertop. Klein made the mistake of opening the card.
On it was written: I know about the car wash.
Klein paled.
Stevie said, ‘‘Can you share with our viewers the secret to keeping your customers so satisfied, so impressed with you as a person?’’
‘‘I ahh.. No.. No.. ’’
‘‘Well. . Thank you, Gwen Klein, for setting such a fine example. KSTV hopes you enjoy the gift.’’ She signaled the cameraman and the lights faded and the camera went off his shoulder, and the small crowd dispersed as people regained their places in line.
Stevie leaned across the counter and whispered through a faked smile, ‘‘I’ll air this footage unless you meet with me.’’
‘‘I can’t.’’
‘‘I’ll be expecting a call.’’ Stevie stepped away from the window.
Klein glanced once again at the three-by-five card, all blood gone from her face.
The cameraman, gathering his gear, asked skeptically, ‘‘Since when do we feature an Employee of the Week?’’
‘‘Since now,’’ Stevie said, hurrying toward the door, her public gawking from a distance.
CHAPTER 27
Boldt and LaMoia walked a couple blocks to the Public Library and took a seat on a recently added bench out front. They took a moment to scan the area around them, alert for anyone eavesdropping. Boldt nodded his okay. He felt badly about the need for secrecy, about the games within games, but LaMoia had started this, and for the moment Boldt did not see a way out.
LaMoia spoke softly, looking straight ahead. ‘‘I was tempted to put Gaynes on her, so we didn’t miss anything.’’
‘‘Forget it! You know this is suicide if anyone finds out,’’ Boldt reminded. ‘‘We’ll be chalking tires. We can get away with me filling in for you, just as long as no one gets wise as to what you’re up to.’’
‘‘She watched a house up on 118th Northwest last night until two
A.M. Name of Klein. Late morning I follow her from Hilltop back to the station. She and a film crew take off to an LSO on Greenwood a half hour later. This interesting you yet?’’
‘‘I’m not comfortable with any of this.’’
‘‘It wasn’t your idea!’’ LaMoia reminded.
‘‘Maybe that’s why I’m not comfortable with it.’’
‘‘So I check the name on the house she’s watching against state payroll. What else connects the two, right?’’ He said sarcastically, ‘‘She’s bringing a film crew in to renew her license, I suppose.’’ He lost the attitude and said, ‘‘There’s an LSO employee name of Gwendolyn Klein. The connection has got to be driver’s licenses.’’ He pointed out, ‘‘Illegals need documents.’’
‘‘If it proves good, we’ll have to find some other way to connect the dots,’’ Boldt reminded. ‘‘If McNeal ever found out we had her under surveillance and that we stole her sources. . she’d not only have us in court, but we’d lose our suspect.’’
‘‘You worry too much,’’ LaMoia said. ‘‘What about a random credit check on a handful of LSO workers that just happens to turn up Klein. She has got to have some unexplained money in her pockets if she’s good for this. ’’
‘‘But what made us run the check of LSO employees in the first place?’’ Boldt asked.
‘‘I see what you mean.’’
‘‘It has to be a believable trail. Then we never mention McNeal.’’ Boldt asked, ‘‘What about Coughlie? Maybe his people already have suspicions that there’s documentation coming out of the LSOs. Something like that could make the connection for us.’’
‘‘Not a good idea. I wouldn’t go there. He paid her a visit first thing this morning.’’
‘‘Before we found the body at Hilltop?’’
‘‘Right. Was with McNeal for the better part of an hour.’’
‘‘She has been busy.’’
‘‘We gotta figure they’re working together somehow.’’
‘‘Information exchange,’’ Boldt suggested. ‘‘He promises her an exclusive to the story as long as there’s a two-way flow of information.’’
‘‘And they’re cutting us out?’’ an exasperated LaMoia cried out. He added, ‘‘I hate that shit!’’
‘‘Just because he got to her first?’’ Boldt teased.
‘‘Exactly!’’ LaMoia added, ‘‘But he didn’t think to put her under surveillance.’’
‘‘Let’s hope not anyway.’’
LaMoia grimaced.
‘‘What if we asked Daphne to try to open her up for us?’’ Boldt suggested. ‘‘She seeds some doubts about Coughlie’s integrity, offers exclusivity with us?’’
‘‘End run the feds? That would be sweet! You want me to pull the surveillance? Is that what I’m hearing?’’
‘‘You’re hearing me concerned about the police getting caught for having the press under surveillance. It’s dangerous for all concerned, John. We’ve been over this.’’
‘‘McNeal is withholding key information to this case. She admitted that to my face. If she wasn’t press-’’
‘‘She is press. If we want her sources we go to court, not surveillance.’’
‘‘We gonna do this dance again?’’ LaMoia whined. ‘‘We go to court, it’ll be Christmas. This missing woman, and our case along with it, will be long gone. We’re protecting McNeal,’’ LaMoia reminded. ‘‘Her associate went missing with this same information. We believe those videotapes-and remember, I saw her leave the apartment with them-are pertinent to the case. We’ve got our bases covered on this, Sarge.’’
‘‘We’ve got Klein. Maybe we should stop while we’re still ahead.’’
‘‘But we aren’t ahead,’’ LaMoia reminded. ‘‘We’re still playing catch up.’’
‘‘Well let’s play catch-up at a distance. Shall we? And let’s close the gap as quickly as possible. This thing makes me nervous.’’
‘‘It’s a way of life for you. If you weren’t worried I’d be worried.
Boldt said, ‘‘That would be a first.’’
They studied the area once more before breaking up and leaving the bench. They walked in opposite directions without ever having talked about a plan. It seemed symbolic to Boldt-LaMoia, two years into his sergeant’s stripes, was increasingly difficult to control.