Escape Clause

32

Virgil spent part of the afternoon making phone calls, staying in touch with Minneapolis homicide about the younger Zhang, checking the tip line, talking to people at the zoo, avoiding calls from the media. Most of it was unpleasant, from his point of view.

Brad Blankenship had been picked up by a Blue Earth County deputy and taken to the jail in Mankato, but Mattsson had called to tell him about a chat with the Blue Earth County attorney. “He’s going to try to push Blankenship into a corner, try to get him to deal up for Castro, but he doesn’t think it’s going to work. Blankenship made a call to an attorney from the jail here, and the county attorney tells me that that guy is also Castro’s attorney. If what happens is what I think is going to happen, Blankenship will be out on bail by tonight, on Castro’s money.”

“Then he’s probably not going to deal up,” Virgil said.

“Probably not.”

“What if we said he was a danger to witnesses?”

“The bail will probably get larger, but that’s all,” she said. “We’re still going to get the guy, but…”

“It’s not exactly what we were hoping for. It’d be nice if we could deal up and get whoever paid him, but I want to see Blankenship doing time, too.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, because that might be what we’re gonna get. If you’re happy, I’m happy, and I already talked to Frankie about it, and she’s okay with it. Alvarez… I think Alvarez and her husband are probably headed back to Mexico. Sparkle isn’t too happy about that, but Sparkle doesn’t have to go back to the pickle factory,” she said.

“I don’t much care what Sparkle is happy about,” Virgil said.

Mattsson said, “Okay, then. Listen, I’m up for the rest of the day-do you need help with the tigers?”

“I don’t even have enough for myself to do,” Virgil said. “If I need help, I’ll call.”

“Do that.”

–

Howser called from the Minneapolis homicide office and said they hadn’t gotten a warrant for Zhang’s shoes. “Got the wrong judge, in the wrong mood, and we were a little thin to begin with. Goddamn Zhang went out of here dragging his shoes on every carpet he saw.”

“How about the Ferrari? It was titled to his old man.”

“We’re all over that. Crime Scene’s down there with vacuums, looking for tiger hair.”

–

That was about it. No tips, no ideas from the zoo. Late in the afternoon, he went over to Peck’s house and pounded on the doors, but there was no answer, and the house felt empty. Should have left a round-the-clock stakeout on Peck, he thought. He was probably with the tigers.

–

With no place left to go, he looked at his watch: Sandy should be in Los Angeles, but she’d call if she actually got anything. Last gasp: he drove out to Washington County to the middle of the large circle on the older Zhang’s Chinese telephone and started driving around.

The countryside was lush with the end of summer coming up, the tall grasses showing gold on the edges, a few yellow leaves popping out in the aspens, birches, and soybean fields. His favorite time of year, but south Washington County was not becoming his favorite place.

The roads ran all over the place, and many of the houses were set so far back from the road, or so deep behind sheltering trees, that he could see almost nothing-and he suspected that wherever the tigers were being kept, that place would be hard to see. With nothing else to do, he kept driving, up one road and down the next, gravel to blacktop and back to gravel, redwing blackbirds perched on cattails, rabbits warming their feet on the gravel shoulders, what might have been a mink making a dash for a culvert: and the sun slowly sank down to the horizon.

The fair-weather clouds were showing orange crinkles from the setting sun when Sandy called. “This place is a nightmare,” she said. “It took an hour and five minutes to drive from LAX to Pasadena. Thirty miles.”

“I don’t have a real tight grip on where Pasadena is,” Virgil said. “You have a reason for going there?”

“Yes. The FedEx packages have been dropped at a place here, and the phone is in this building. I’m going to start calling it, and we’ll have a bunch of people listening for it. There are about a million packages and I’m hoping he hasn’t turned the ringer off. Anyway, I just got here, I’m dealing with the manager, I’ll call back when we get something. If we get something.”

–

Virgil called Mattsson: “You still free?”

“Sure, for a while, anyway. I’m starting to get a little off-center. I’ve been up since five o’clock.”

He told her where he was, and she said she’d drive out.

Fifteen minutes later, Sandy called back: “We got it. The ringer was turned off, but he had the vibration thing turned on, and we can feel the box vibrating when I call it. It’s addressed to a Jack in the Box. I don’t know what that’s all about, but the manager says as long as I give him a written statement that the owner is dead and this is for a police investigation, we can open it here.”

“Then do it. Now,” Virgil said.

“I’m doing it,” she said. “The box is right here and I’m typing out this statement. I hope it doesn’t get us in trouble.”

“Hamlet’s dead, Sandy. Who’s going to complain?”

“Hang on…” As he hung on, he dug in his briefcase and found Hamlet Simonian’s password book. Sandy came back and said, “Got it. It wants a password, four numbers. You got a four-number password?”

He looked. “I do. I’ve got three of them, unidentified.”

“Give them to me.”

–

They hit it on the second one and Sandy said, “It’s opening up-that’s it, Virgil. Okay, I’m paging through here. Location services are on… Oh my God.”

“Oh my God, what?”

“He was at the zoo three times,” Sandy said. “He was at the zoo the night the tigers were stolen, it’s all right here, it actually says the Minnesota Zoo and has the time.”

“Aww… kiss yourself for me. On the lips. What else? I mean, where else?”

“A few places in St. Paul…”

She read off the addresses and Virgil said, “That’s Peck’s place… that’s his apartment… that’s the place over in Frogtown, where they sent the dryers. Don’t know what the other ones are… What about Washington County?”

“Doesn’t say Washington County but there’s a place out east of St. Paul, must be it. He’s been seven times.”

“That’s it. Where is it?”

She read off the address. Virgil wrote it down and said, “We need to keep that phone secure. We need a list of witnesses who saw you open the FedEx box, and who saw you put the password numbers in and who saw you open up the phone. We need names and addresses for all of them. Be sure to save the box and any documentation that comes with it, and make friends with the witnesses.”

“I can do that. The manager here asked me what I was doing later tonight…”

“Jesus, Sandy…”

“Messing with you, Virgil. I will do that, I’ll document everything. I haven’t touched the phone except to put in the password numbers, and I did that with a stylus so I wouldn’t put my own fingerprints on it. Simonian’s should be all over it. Maybe Peck’s, if he’s the one who shipped it.”

“You are so good,” Virgil said.

“Are you going to his place in Washington County?”

“Soon as the backup gets here,” Virgil said.

“Jenkins and Shrake?” Sandy asked.

“Catrin Mattsson.”

“She’s as good as Jenkins and Shrake-she’s sort of my new heroine. Virgil-be careful, huh? Both of you. Please?”

“Got it covered,” Virgil said, as he hung up.