Painted Ladies

62

An apprehension team, wearing vests and helmets with face masks and sitting in an unmarked van, met us in the parking lot at District 14 Station on Washington Street. They were under the command of a sergeant who looked as though he might floss with a crowbar.

The sergeant looked at me and said, “Who’s this?”

“My bodyguard,” Belson said. “You’ve looked at the site?”

“Yeah.”

“I want the building covered on all four,” Belson said. “I want the guys at each corner of the property in visual contact with the guy at the corners on each side of him. You’ve done this before.”

“Sure,” the sergeant said. “One question. Your buddy here a cop, or we gotta take care of him?”

“He’ll take care of himself,” Belson said. “Let’s get to it.”

The apprehension team went first, and we followed. They pulled up in front of the Herzberg Foundation and poured out of the car. In thirty seconds they had the place surrounded. Two guys with a short ram stood by the front door. The sergeant looked at Belson and nodded.

Frank and I went up the stairs and tried the door. It was open. Frank and I both took out our guns and went in. Nothing. The place throbbed with emptiness. No people. No papers. No coffeepots. No water bottles. Neat, clean, and deserted.

“Balls,” Belson said.

“Exactly,” I said.

Belson looked at the command sergeant.

“Make sure,” Belson said.

The sergeant nodded, and the team searched the house. It was as empty as it felt.

“They been a step ahead of us pretty much all along,” Belson said. “How’d they know.”

“Might be my fault,” I said.

“They decided to bail after you told them how much you knew?” Belson said.

“I was trying to bait him, get him to do something hasty,” I said.

Belson nodded.

“Case like this,” Belson said, “there’s not that much choice. You poke and push and see what happens. Better than doing nothing.”

“This time what happened is that they took off,” I said.

“Maybe,” Belson said. “Maybe something else.”

The sergeant came back and reported that the building was empty.

“Okay,” Belson said. “Canvass the neighborhood, see if you can learn anything.”

The sergeant nodded.

“When they left, how they left, where they went, whatever,” Belson said.

“We’re on it,” the sergeant said.

“And take off the armor so your people don’t scare the neighbors to death.”

The sergeant grinned.

“Some of my people look better with the armor on,” he said.

While the neighborhood was being canvassed, Belson and I walked through the building, opening drawers, looking in wastebaskets. We didn’t find anything.

“Could get the scientists in here,” Belson said.

“Prints?” I said.

“Whatever,” Belson said.

“It appears to me that this place was rented furnished,” I said.

“So there might be quite a few prints?” Belson said.

“An embarrassment of riches,” I said.

“You’re probably right,” Belson said. “But I’ll have them take a look, anyway. Makes them feel important.”

The sergeant came back into the building.

“Left a couple days ago,” he said. “Took a few boxes. In some kind of rental van. One guy thinks it might have been a Ryder. Nobody got an idea where they went.”

“I’ll check the rental van,” Belson said. “We’ll see who owns this building and who they rented it to. Something might turn up.”

“So you don’t need us no more, we’ll pack up and go home,” the sergeant said.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Belson said.

The sergeant looked at me.

“You carry a gun,” he said. “I seen you take it out when you went in the house.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” I said.

“You ain’t a cop,” he said.

“Not anymore,” I said.

“He’s a private license,” Belson said. “He’s been working on this case longer than I have.”

The sergeant nodded.

“Just asking,” he said.

When he was gone, I said, “Alert to any transgression.”

Belson nodded.

“Probably make lieutenant before I do,” Belson said.

“Might help,” I said, “if you take the lieutenant’s exam.”

“Fuck the lieutenant’s exam,” Belson said.

“Your position remains consistent,” I said.

“Ain’t gonna change,” Belson said. “I’ve been a cop a long time. I don’t need to prove myself in some fucking exam.”

“You do if you want to make lieutenant,” I said.

“Fuck lieutenant, too,” Belson said.

I grinned.

“No wonder we get along,” I said.

Belson looked at me without expression.

“Who says we get along?” Belson said.