The Cat Dancers

9

An hour and a half later, Cam assembled the entire team in the office. Billy Mays and Pardee Bell had been on their day off and were not too thrilled, but having seen a rerun of the video, they now were at least interested.

“Okay, boys and girls,” Cam said, sitting sideways on the edge of his desk. “I’ve just been to a stimulating meeting with Bobby Lee, Hizzoner, and the usual suspects from Next Door, subject: the electric horror show now playing on the Internet. We have orders.”

“Achtung!” croaked Horace.

“Yeah, well, first: The sheriff wants MCAT to run with this one. It’s not exactly what we were formed up to do, but this hairball is going to play across a lot of jurisdictions, legal and otherwise, and we do that every day.”

“Internet is interstate,” Pardee said. “This is a Bureau deal.”

“Agreed,” Cam said. “And the sheriff has already made the call to the Charlotte field office. But in the meantime, we urgently need to put eyes on the dynamic duo of Simmonds and Butts. Kenny, you got something for us on that?”

“Yeah, boss.” He briefed the team on the usual hangouts of both individuals.

“And how do we know that?” Tony Martinelli wanted to know. “I thought Judge Red Banner put their evil asses offlimits.”

“Well…” Kenny said, looking over at Cam.

“I had proposed to the sheriff that we rebuild a case,” Cam explained. “Start from scratch, get a bag of circumstantial evidence, re-ring ’em. Sheriff said no, after checking with sister Klein. So instead, I had Kenny here do a little afterhours bird-dogging, mostly to establish where these guys hang out, known associates, daily routine. Just in case Bobby Lee ever changes his mind, or if we ever need to have a word. Like, for instance, now.”

Tony acknowledged that. Bird-dogging was something Kenny did very well, and better solo than with a partner.

“Horace, you and Tony see if you can produce one K-Dog Simmonds. Billy, you and Pardee go find brother Flash. Don’t apprehend. Just locate and report. If Simmonds is alive and drooling, then the Web show is bullshit and we can terminate this firefly.”

“And if we can’t find his ass?”

“I’m to report that fact to the sheriff, and then he’ll have some more decisions to make. Like whether or not to apprehend and put into protective custody one Mr. Deleon Butts.”

Horace cleared his throat and spat into a trash can. “Why bother?” he said, giving voice to a sentiment that they all felt to different degrees.

“Think of it this way, Horace,” Cam said. “If the vigilantes dispose of all the bad guys, who needs us, right? So ride, cowboys, ride.”

The group broke up and Cam joined Kenny back at his desk. “What else?” Kenny asked.

“We need to figure out who the executioner is. Which means, for starters, you and I are going to go see James Marlor.”

“I already made a call; seems his phone’s disconnected.”

“That’s encouraging. Does Duke Energy say where his retirement checks are going?”

“Direct deposit into a BB and T branch bank in beautiful downtown Lexington, right where his regular paychecks used to go. We’ll need to paper up to find out if he’s cashing them or if they’re just piling up.”

“Okay,” Cam said. “Let’s go see Steven Klein, find out what we’ll need.”

“We might as well get domicile and vehicle search warrants, too,” Kenny said as they left the office to go next door.

“Why?”

“Marlor may not be there anymore.”

Cam stopped in the hallway. “That’s a point, but you know what? Before we go to all this trouble, why not call his sister, see if she knows where he is?”

“That’s no fun,” Kenny said.