Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Ross (i can read books TXT) 📕

I pointed to the plastic bags lined up on the side table beneath the flat screen on the wall. “What I did tonight was lift prints off the glasses and tableware I took. I scanned them into my computer and emailed them to LJ.” I didn’t tell her only four of the glasses and four of the plates yielded prints, prints that would include PAUSA kitchen staff and servers. Nor did I reveal that Clown Four’s place setting had been wiped clean, as if in anticipation of my effort. When Bobby had drawn my attention to the man in that spot, I had made a mental note of what I had seen before the mask went on. Average height, dark hair. Beard? No. Mustache? Maybe. Could blond Wally Ray Tucker have shaved his head, worn a wig, and applied Just for Men to any facial hair?

“Here I thought you were going after DNA,” Drea said.

“You can get a fingerprint kit on Amazon, not a complete DNA lab.”

She laughed.

“If I want DNA, I have to beg my sister, who’s a county medical examiner. Then she has to beg somebody in a lab for an expensive favor that doesn’t involve paperwork.” To my surprise, I yawned at that moment, which meant my brain was beginning to power down. I swallowed. “None of that can happen this time of night anyway.” Pulling off my glasses with my left hand, I massaged my temples with the thumb and middle finger of my right. “I don’t know the hoops LJ has to jump through but his access to AFIS is our first step. By tomorrow we’ll know if C.J. Lansing and his buddies are in the system.”

26

The fingerprints had been easier to sort than I had expected and had led to the identification of three men in addition to Lansing. After a dishonorable discharge from the army, Andrew Carey had been busted for assault in Arkansas. Owen Robbins had done time for petty theft in North Carolina. Stanley Maxwell had applied for a law enforcement job after flunking out of Duke and later faced charges for assaulting a live-in girlfriend. C.J. Lansing was actually Maryland-born Carter John, whose maternal grandfather Lambert Lansing had a Ph.D. in mathematics but whose disinherited mother Whitney quit college to marry Russell John, the English lit grad student who impregnated her. John’s fingerprints were in the system because of three misdemeanor arrests and two sentences of less than a year served in different county jails. Named in no outstanding warrants, none of the men could be detained for return to other states. I hoped John at least could be picked up for questioning—if he could be found.

By seven-thirty I had removed the Brink’s bar from the door, finished a quick read-through of LJ’s printed email attachment, and reviewed surveillance video. After my daily call to Mark Donatello, who would join us today for our briefing, I called Terry Chalmers.

“I take it this isn’t official business because you called my cell,” he said, slurping what I presumed was coffee. “Your name isn’t anywhere in the murder book open on my desk right now, so be quick.”

“Sorry you’re stuck with what comes out of that old Mr. Coffee.”

“This machine was Mr. Coffee’s sclerotic blood donor,” he said. “What is it?”

“Something I thought you should know.” I explained who Drea was and the events of last night. “Two of these guys may be the ones who killed her husband,” I said. Bobby and Drea’s certainty they’d had violent encounters with them increased the likelihood of some kind of disruption, maybe an attack on us when we were in the community or on the conference itself.

“You’re calling the Homicide Squad why?”

“I didn’t call Homicide. I called a friend who happens to be a lieutenant in Homicide. You’re the highest-ranking cop friend I have. I figured you would know what to do.”

Terry said nothing for a few seconds. “I hear Pete Kim is working with you now.”

“Yeah. He’s in the shower at the moment.”

“In the shower?”

“We have our client stashed in a four-room suite at Torrance Towers. We’re with her round the clock. If you want to talk to Pete—”

“I don’t need to talk to him. Jeez! Guy’s retired five minutes and you put him back in the crosshairs—with domestic terrorists, no less.” He gulped more coffee. “Got backup?”

“Two people from Weisskopf, day shifters contracted by her publisher. They go with us everywhere. Hotel security is our backup when we’re inside. The Donatello group.”

“The Weisskopf guards any good?”

“They’re both conscientious. The guy is young and inexperienced but he does what he’s told. The woman’s older and a vet. Comes across as very capable. She’s got a carry permit. The kid’s got a Taser.”

For a time there was no sound but his breathing. “Look, G, I know you’re not one to cry wolf, but cops show up after the fact. Unless you have information that tells us where and when to stop a crime…”

“I don’t know the where and when. Or the what.”

“You don’t know the play, but you’re sure there’ll be one.”

“Yep.”

Terry sighed. “Where are you and this woman going to be today?”

I recited the schedule.

“You’re starting at the downtown library, in B-District. Okay, I’ll talk to the chief there and see if she can spare a uni to tag along this morning and afternoon. She’s an old friend and will probably say yes. But there’s nothing we can do for the conference. Until you or James Torrance can give the department specifics, security falls to the Donatellos. As far as I know, they’re a good outfit.”

“They are. I already told them about last night.” I thought for a moment. “Can you do me a favor at least?”

“What?”

“If I email what LJ sent me, can you have Carter John picked up for questioning?”

“Sorry, man. We need something more solid than he broke up a talk with a clown mask and confederate flag. Even assholes have freedom of speech.” Terry paused. “Did he threaten