“Michelle Belzer,” she answered. “Why?”
“We’re looking for Martin Belzer. Is he your husband or…?”
Michelle snorted. “Hell, no! Unfortunately, he’s my uncle.” She crossed her arms and frowned. “Why? What’d he do this time?”
“We just need to talk to him,” Kopriva said. “Does he live here?”
“No,” Michelle answered. “He did for awhile, but my parents kicked him out. He’s pretty well burned his bridges with most of the family. He does drugs, if you didn’t know.”
“How long ago was he living here?”
Michelle considered. “A month or so. His mail still comes here, though.”
“Any idea where he might be now?”
“Not really. That’s why I still have a ton of his mail. His Mom and his sister still support him somewhat. Either one of them might know.”
“Who would be more likely to help us find him?”
Michelle considered briefly. “My Aunt. That’s his sister. She might help, depending on how she feels about him at the moment.”
“All right. Do you mind if we check around here really quick? That way we can tell our boss that he’s definitely not here.”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
While Kopriva checked, Katie stayed with Michelle. Kopriva overheard Michelle asking Katie numerous questions about being a female cop. Katie answered her politely, but seemed a little short, which was unlike her.
Kopriva’s search of the house turned up no sign of Belzer and no evidence outside of the master bedroom of a male living at the house. That completed, Kopriva asked Michelle for the number and address of Belzer’s mother and sister. She read them to him from her address book. Kopriva wrote them in his notebook and thanked her.
“Anytime,” Michelle said. “That jerk stole eight hundred dollars of my tuition money one quarter last year from my parent’s house. I hope he rots in hell.”
Ah, Kopriva thought. Revenge.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “You’ll have to settle for jail, though. I’m not in charge of hell. Yet.”
Michelle laughed at his joke as he and Katie left.
Back in his car, Kopriva plugged in his cellular phone. He’d bought it for use on the job when it became apparent the department could never afford to supply officers with one. It had proven to be a valuable tool.
Katie pulled her car next to him. “So?”
“So now I call mom and sister and see if they will give me a lead.”
Kopriva dialed the sister’s number. The line was busy.
“Busy,” he told Katie. “You think Michelle is in there ratting us off?”
Katie shrugged. “Doubt it.”
“Me, too. But you never know.”
Katie let out a small snort. “Yeah, you never know.”
Kopriva dialed the mother’s number. The phone rang twice, then a male voice answered. “Hello?”
“Hello? Is Mrs. Belzer home?”
“No. She’s not here. Can I help you?”
“Depends on who you are,” Kopriva said.
“I’m her son.”
Kopriva smiled in surprise. “Martin Belzer?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
Damn! His smile faded, but he thought quickly. “It’s the United States Postal Service, Mr. Belzer.”
“Who?”
“The Post Office, sir. Actually, Mr. Belzer, we were hoping to locate you. My name is James Zurn. I work in misdirected mail and forwarding addresses. I understand you used to live at-” Kopriva paused, pretending to shuffle through some papers. “At 1814 N. Quincey. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Well, sir, we’ve been getting mail back from that address stating that you are no longer there. However, we show a last name of Belzer still residing there.”
“Yeah. My brother lives there. I moved out a while back.”
“I see. Okay, well, if you can give me an updated address, I’ll enter it into the computer right now and you should start getting all your mail again.”
“I’m living with my mother right now,” he said and gave the address.
Kopriva had him repeat part of it several times and complained, “This computer is slow sometimes.”
In the car next to him, Katie chuckled. “You’re pushing your luck,” she whispered.
“Maybe that’s why the mail takes so long,” Belzer joked.
“Actually, sir, if you compare the US Postal system with other western nations in Europe, we are fourteen to seventeen percent faster on average. Only Japan and Denmark have a faster mail system.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re cheaper, too,” Kopriva added.
“Oh.” Belzer was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Isn’t it kind of late to be doing this kind of thing?” His voice held a tinge of suspicion.
“We’re on twenty-four hours in this department, sir. It’s the only way to keep up.”
“Oh.” Suspicion remained in his voice.
“Besides,” Kopriva said, “we catch a lot of people on the phone between five and ten PM. Everyone who works, basically. We generally try not to call after ten, though.” He glanced at his watch. It was 10:08 PM. “Anyway, Mr. Belzer, you should have restored mail service immediately and receive all your misdirected mail within three days. If you have any problems, call the customer service department between eight and four and they’ll help you.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kopriva hung up and let out a deep breath. He looked over at Katie.
She raised her hands and clapped them together several times in mock applause. “Stef,” she said, “you are the king of bullshit.”
“Hey, I had to think of something.”
“No, it was beautiful,” she said. “A work of art. Now what?”
Kopriva gave her the address. “We go get him.”
“Meet you there.”
The drive was a quick one. Kopriva felt good. Proper trickery was fun to use. He had acted in a couple of plays in high school and this was sort of the same thing. Only here, he had to be quick on his feet and ad-lib. The key was to keep it simple and as close to the truth as possible.
Belzer’s Mom’s house was smaller than Michelle’s, but the yard was equally well-tended. Kopriva wondered if lawn care was a family fetish. He and Katie stole up to the house, and he peered in the window. A male sat in the easy chair watching TV. Looking at the back of the man’s head, he couldn’t tell if it was Belzer or not. He motioned for Katie to knock. As soon as she rapped on the door, the man stood and nonchalantly strolled to the door.
Kopriva smiled and a thrill went through him.
It was him.
Kopriva stepped onto the porch and prepared to force the door back open if Belzer tried to close it once he saw who was on his doorstep. The door swung open and Belzer stared at them for a moment, obviously surprised. The faint odor of marijuana smoke wafted through the door.
“Martin? Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?” Kopriva played it low-key.
Belzer blinked at them, shocked. “Okay,” he said and stepped aside to let them in.
As soon as they were in the door, Kopriva put him into a mild wrist-lock. Katie took the other arm. When he encountered no resistance, Kopriva made no attempt to use further force. He told Belzer he was under arrest.
“For what?” he complained. “I’m just watching TV here.”
“You have several warrants.” Kopriva handcuffed him and began to search. Katie pulled a plastic bag from her pocket and held it for Belzer’s possessions.
“What warrants? I thought I took care of those,” Belzer said, not convincing anyone in the room.
“Evidently not.” Kopriva continued to search. He came across an orange-brown chunk wrapped in a baggy. “Uh-oh, Martin. What’s this?”
“Crank,” Belzer said dejectedly.
Kopriva hadn’t expected an answer, but he didn’t quibble. “Before I go any further, let me ask you something. Are there any needles on you? Because if I stick myself on a needle, I am going to be one ticked off hombre.”
“They’re in my sunglasses case. In my flannel pocket.” Belzer stared straight ahead.
Kopriva pulled the case from Belzer’s breast pocket. Inside, he saw two needles, a spoon, some cotton, and some water in a small plastic bottle. “How long have you been shooting this stuff?”