P Tracy - Snow Blind

Magozzi winced. ‘Ouch.’

‘Come on, Leo, the woman doesn’t have a clue and you know it. She’s probably at home right now watching reruns of NYPD Blue trying to figure out what the hell she’s supposed to do next.’

McLaren looked at Magozzi for confirmation. ‘Is it really that bad?’

Magozzi sighed. ‘She’s brand new, right off the dispatch desk. No field experience. But I don’t know. She might do okay.’

‘Might do okay?’ Gino rolled his eyes. ‘Tell me this man isn’t a total sucker for a pretty face.’

Magozzi glared at him. ‘I didn’t see any pretty face. I saw a sheriff.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Gino grunted. ‘Anyway, you ask me, I’m having a hard time connecting the snowman up in Dundas to the two we had in the park, which means we got two cases, and we just wasted a whole damn day on the wrong one. You know, the minute things started to look good for Kurt Weinbeck murdering Doyle, I got this really cool dream scenario that we’d find him up there with Doyle’s blood all over him and Deaton’s and Myerson’s sidearms in his pockets, but I gotta tell you, it just doesn’t fit. The snowmen didn’t match, the weapons didn’t match, and the truth is, yellow-bellied wife beaters don’t go around offing cops. I’m betting Weinbeck saw the thing in the park on TV and decided to make it look like our killer did it by sticking Doyle into a snowman of his own.’

‘I’m with you.’ Magozzi was leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. He didn’t open them when he talked. ‘Two cases. Weinbeck killed Doyle, and Dundas is the lucky winner of that one; somebody else killed Deaton and Myerson, and we better get our asses in gear on that one, or Sheriff Iris Rikker is going to solve her case before we solve ours.’ He opened one eye at Gino. ‘Who would be the yokels, then?’

‘Don’t give me that crap. We solved her case. We told her who did it. All she has to do is catch the guy.’

McLaren talked down to the doodle he was creating on a well-used paper napkin. ‘Or… maybe your dream scenario wasn’t such a bad call, Gino. Maybe Kurt Weinbeck is a little more than your average yellow-bellied wife beater.’

Magozzi opened both eyes and looked at him. ‘You got something?’

McLaren looked uncomfortable. ‘Hell, I don’t know. I don’t like Weinbeck for killing two cops, either, but stuff keeps cropping up.’ He kept scribbling on the napkin and Gino leaned forward to see what he was writing. Turned out it was an alligator in a dentist’s chair, having a tooth pulled. Christ. Sometimes he thought McLaren was a hell of a lot scarier than most of the guys they yanked off the street. He flopped back and gave his bruised stomach a rest while McLaren kept talking.

‘So this afternoon I get a call from Narc about a drug dealer about to go down to the deep cells for three counts of attempted murder. Trial’s next week, and Prosecution’s got four star witnesses that should get them a slam-dunk. Two of them are the dirtbags he tried to kill along with the guy who’s still in a coma. They cut a deal on the drug charges in exchange for testifying against the big guy. You want to take a stab at who the other two witnesses were?’

Gino threw up his hands. Getting information out of an Irishman was never easy. ‘Christ, I don’t know, Mr Mustard and Miss Scarlett.’

McLaren was grinning. ‘I’ll give you a hint. Two guys in blue outfits, first on the scene, caught the dealer reloading for a killing shot, a-a-nd… they liked to ski.’

‘Deaton and Myerson?’

‘Bingo. You win the canned ham. Now guess the street name of the sleazebucket going to trial.’

Gino glared at him. ‘How about you guess how long it’ll take me to strangle you if you don’t spit out whatever the hell you’re trying to tell us.’

McLaren didn’t look a bit worried. ‘They call him the Snowman.’

Gino and Magozzi just stared at him for a minute while they thought it through. It always made Johnny uncomfortable when they did that, and they did it a lot when they were working a case hard, and somebody said something that shot their minds off in a different direction.

Gino finally looked away, scrubbing at his blond brush cut, hoping to coax some more brain cells to life. ‘Okay. So this Snowman character is up for trial, and suddenly two of the witnesses against him end up dead.’

‘Packed in snowmen,’ Johnny reminded him, as if he could forget such a thing. ‘And the other two bailed on the testifying deal about ten seconds after the Chief went public with Deaton’s and Myerson’s names today. Said even if the cops didn’t get the Snowman’s message, they sure as hell did, and the way they figured, getting fitted for a prison jumpsuit was a hell of a lot better than getting fitted for a coffin.’

Magozzi was trying hard not to swallow the bait right off the bat, just in case there might be a hook inside. ‘Okay, so I’m guessing you’ve either got the Snowman locked in a holding cell somewhere, or else there’s a wrinkle.’

Johnny nodded. ‘A little one. The guy’s in Stillwater serving five on the drug charges while he waits for the attempted murder trial.’

‘Kind of a big wrinkle.’

‘Wouldn’t be the first time a doer called for a hit from prison.’

‘Risky stuff. Somebody always talks, and those guys go down like bowling pins. Unless they’ve got some kind of a family network working the outside. How big is this guy?’

‘Not that big. Kind of new on the Minneapolis scene when they nailed him, but he’s Russian, and a lot of them think The Godfather was a documentary, and that putting out a hit in America is cake. So I was checking with Stillwater just before you came in, asking about the Snowman’s prison buddies, visitors, like that. Turns out he had the same cellmate for the past two years, your friend and mine, Kurt Weinbeck.’

Gino didn’t like the coincidence, but he didn’t like the leaps McLaren was taking, either. ‘Your threads are getting down to gossamer, McLaren.’

‘You gotta think outside the box. Sure, Weinbeck might not be your first choice to hit a couple cops, but the trial’s coming right up and maybe the Snowman’s desperate. So he offers his buddy the amateur some fast dough to take care of two of his witnesses and send a warning to the other two. Weinbeck takes care of the Snowman’s business, then forces Doyle to drive him up to Dundas so he can take care of his own. I know it’s all paper-thin, but we got too many threads here. I think we got to take a look at it. Only thing I can’t figure out is why Julie Albright is still alive. He had plenty of time to get to her after taking care of Doyle.’

Gino and Magozzi looked at one another. ‘The storm might have stopped him, or maybe Bitterroot,’ Magozzi said. ‘He wasn’t counting on the security.’

‘What security?’

Gino got up out of his chair. ‘You tell him. I’m going to call Dundas and give them a few pointers.’

‘What?’

‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing, Leo, and you know it. And we’re going to just sit here while one case for sure and maybe two hang on whether or not she can figure it out?’

‘You can’t do that, Gino.’

‘I’ll be tactful.’

‘You for sure can’t do that. Sit down. I’ll call.’

‘Fine by me. Tell her to slap Weinbeck’s photo on every cow.’

Magozzi walked over to his desk and picked up the phone.

‘… and to get every unit she’s got on the road looking for Doyle’s car, and not to touch the damn thing if they find it…’

Sheriff Iris Rikker was tired. Magozzi could tell, because it only took her one word to say hello.

‘Hi, Sheriff. Leo Magozzi here. Listen, a couple things came to light today on the investigation into the two snowmen in Theodore Wirth Park that we thought you should know. We’re still at the coincidence stage, nothing solid, but there’s a real slim possibility Kurt Weinbeck might be involved.’