Thirteen Million Dollar Pop

8

Behr’s write-up of events was a composite in style of a law enforcement incident report and the more detailed prose format that Caro expected. It took him several hours to complete, and he didn’t even bother hurrying. He started with Teague’s approach to him to handle the shift and continued all the way through to leaving the garage. He broke off from his work at lunchtime for half an hour and went to Shapiro’s for a sandwich. When it was time to pay, Behr found his check had been taken care of by a trio of Caro case managers who were eating in the corner. He gave them a salute of thanks as he left, which they returned, fists and thumbs in the air. By the time he got back to his desk and finished the report, printed one out for the files, and e-mailed digital copies to Potempa and Curt Lundquist, the brief stretched to more than eight typewritten pages.

As for the thing Potempa had mentioned, Behr received it right before the end of the day. Moments after his report hit Potempa’s in-box, Ms. Swanton delivered to his desk a CD-ROM containing a case file on a string of unarmed robberies, thefts really, of a check cashing/money wiring business called Payroll Place. Payroll Place had sixteen locations throughout Indiana, southern Illinois, and northern Missouri. Canvas cash bags and strongboxes had been taken out of a half dozen armored cars and safe rooms over the past few months.

As Behr looked over the file, it seemed possible an outside ring might have identified a weakness in the company’s security plan and was having a field day. But there was a company personnel list included, almost one hundred and fifty names, and Behr knew it was much more likely to be an inside job. That would account for the company’s avoiding the police and coming to Caro in the first place. The background checks on the employees who had access to cash and codes were standard surface-level time-of-hiring reports, but deeper p-checks were needed, and the police weren’t going to bother with something like that. Especially when the thefts were only netting between five and ten thousand dollars apiece and had been free of violence so far. Behr rubbed his temples, realizing he’d be chained to the computer and the courthouse, searching databases, until his coming child was in preschool. And when he’d finally narrowed the pool to a few dozen likely candidates, then the interviews would start …

The end of the day was close enough at hand and the case represented far too much work to start now. Behr closed the file and glanced at his computer to see that Kolodnik had become the headline on the local news sites, but not, Behr noted with muted surprise, for what had transpired in the garage last night. That had been referenced in some short, linked articles, which chalked up the shooting to random violence, inner-city crime, and the glut of guns on the streets; but Kolodnik had made an announcement that was much bigger news.

A press conference had been held-the one that Kolodnik had mentioned on his call before the shooting-to announce that the state’s senior senator had just resigned his seat to fight advanced prostate cancer, the junior senator was now senior, and there was an opening. In cases like this in Indiana, a special election wasn’t held. Instead, it became a gubernatorial appointment, and Kolodnik had been handpicked by the governor as the replacement to serve in the Senate until the next regular election four years out. The governor had tapped Kolodnik, saying, “His business and community leadership is unparalleled.”

“I look forward to taking a leave of absence from the day-to-day operations of my company to act upon a long-held goal of mine: to enter into public service,” Kolodnik said, “to work to curb crime and increase prosperity for all Indiana citizens.” His stake in his company would be moved into a blind trust to be managed by a third party until such time as he left government. Barring any confirmation problems, Bernie Cool was going to Washington.

He must have one hell of a PR machine, Behr mused, seeing how the shooting had been tucked away into obscurity behind the announcement. Then another thought lodged itself in Behr’s head, considering what little he had gotten done on his own day after: that’s one single-minded son of a bitch.

There was a photo of the press event held in the glare of the sun on the statehouse steps right by the statue of old Oliver Morton, the governor during the Civil War. Behr made out a few of his counterparts behind Kolodnik, his neatly bobbed wife, and the governor up on the podium. He didn’t recognize them as Caro boys, at least not from the Indianapolis office, but he could spot the breed. They were professional body men, perhaps hired from Kroll, Executive Solutions, or Securitas-which was what Pinkerton was called these days-or maybe some other outfit. They looked like they were sweating up there in their blue suits and dark sunglasses. But Kolodnik didn’t look overheated. Of course he didn’t, he was Bernie Cool.

Behr sat there, staring at the computer screen for a long, long time, wondering what else he thought. Then the tone of an incoming e-mail sounded. Behr clicked it open. It was a company-wide humor post from Pat Teague, a list entitled “Ten Reasons Guns Are Better Than Women.” Number ten was: “You can trade in a.44 for a.22,” and number one was “You can buy a silencer for a gun.” Behr put the computer to sleep, stood, and left for the day.