Michael Connelly - Blood Work

“I know that. I’m not doubting that. I just want a fresh look and, mostly, I want you to put a laser profile through your computer, if you can. You never know. We might hit something. I’ve got a feeling about this one.”

“You and your feelings. I remember those. All right, then who am I getting the package from? Them or you?”

“I’m going to try to finesse it. Get the Sheriff’s Department out here to send in the package. I don’t want you doing this off the books. But if you can, I’d like to put some grease on it. This shooter’s a repeater. We might save somebody’s life if we can get a line on him.”

Carruthers was silent a few moments and McCaleb guessed he was running his schedule through his head.

“This is the thing. Today’s Thursday. I need it by Tuesday morning latest and preferably Monday so I have time to do it justice. Next Wednesday I’m flying out to Kansas City to testify. Mob case. They think I’ll be out there the rest of the week. So if you want it expedited, you’ve got to expedite it to me. If you do, I’ll give it my immediate attention.”

“That’s not going to cause major problems?”

“ ’Course it is. I’m backed up two months here, what else is new? But just get me the package and I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll get it to you. One way or the other by Monday latest.”

“Okay, buddy.”

“Oh, one last thing. Take my number. Like I said, I’m not acting in any official capacity on this thing. By rights, you should communicate with the Sheriff’s Department, but I’d appreciate a heads-up if you come up with anything unusual.”

“You got it,” he said without hesitation. “Give me the number. And the address. Marie will want that for Christmas cards.”

After McCaleb gave him the information, Carruthers cleared his throat.

“So, you talk to Kate lately?” he asked.

“She called the hospital a couple days after the transplant. But I was still out of it. We didn’t talk long.”

“Hmmm. Well, you ought to call her just to let her know you’re okay.”

“I don’t know. How is she doing?”

“Fine, I guess. Haven’t heard anything to the contrary. You should call her.”

“It’s better just to leave it alone, I think. We’re divorced, remember?”

“Whatever. You’re the boss. I’ll send her an E-mail just to let her know you’re still breathing out there.”

After a few more minutes of catching up, McCaleb clicked off the phone and went back up to the salon for more coffee. He was out of milk so he took it black. It was hair of the dog that bit him but he had to keep the momentum. If things went as he hoped, he would be on the road most of the day.

It was now near seven and almost time to call Winston. He went out onto the deck to take a look at the morning. The marine layer had come in strong and thick and the other boats looked ghostlike in the mist. It would be a few hours before it burned off and anybody got a look at the sun. He looked over at Buddy Lockridge’s boat and saw no activity yet.

At 7:10 he sat at the salon table with his legal pad and punched Jaye Winston’s number into the cordless phone. He caught her just as she was sitting down at her desk.

“I just walked in,” she said. “And I didn’t expect to hear from you for a couple of days. That was a lot of paper I gave you.”

“Yeah, well, once I got into it, I couldn’t put it down, I guess.”

“What did you think?”

McCaleb knew she was asking what he thought of her investigation, asking him to make a judgment.

“I think you run a tight show but I already knew that from before. I liked all the moves you made on this one, Jaye. No complaints from me.”

“But?”

“But I’ve got a few questions I wrote down here if you’ve got a few minutes. Maybe a couple of suggestions if you want ’em. A lead or two maybe.”

Winston laughed good-naturedly.

“You federal guys always have questions, always have suggestions, always have new leads.”

“Hey, I’m not federal anymore.”

“Well, I guess it sticks in the blood, then. Go ahead.”

McCaleb looked over the notes he had taken the day before and started right in on the Mikail Bolotov angle.

“First off, Ritenbaugh and Aguilar, you close to them?”

“Don’t even know them. They’re not in homicide. The captain pulled them out of burglaries and gave them to me for a week. That was when we were running down the three-strikes names. What about them?”

“Well, I think one of the names that they scratched off that list needs a second look.”

“Which one?”

“Mikail Bolotov.”

McCaleb heard the rustling of papers as Winston looked for the report from Ritenbaugh and Aguilar.

“Okay, got it. What are you seeing here? Looks like he’s got a solid alibi.”

“Have you ever heard of geographic cross-referencing?”

“What?”

He explained the concept and told her what he had done and how it led to Bolotov. He further explained that Bolotov had been interviewed before the Sherman Market robbery/shooting and therefore the significance of the location of Bolotov’s home and employment to the market murders and one of the HK P7 thefts was not as apparent as it was to the other case. When he was done, Winston agreed that the Russian needed to be rechecked but she was not as enthusiastic about the prospect as McCaleb.

“Look, like I said, I don’t know those two guys, so I can’t vouch for them, but I have to assume they’re not fresh off the boat. I have to assume they could handle an interview like this and check out the alibi.”

McCaleb didn’t say anything.

“Look, I’ve got court this week. I can’t go check this guy out again.”

“I can.”

Now she didn’t say anything.

“I’ll be cool,” McCaleb said. “Just sort of play it by ear.”

“I don’t know, Terry. You’re a citizen now. This might be going too far.”

“Well, think about it. I’ve got some other stuff here to talk about.”

“Fine. What else?”

McCaleb knew that if she didn’t bring up Bolotov again during the conversation, she was giving him unofficial permission to check the Russian out. She just didn’t want to sanction what he was doing.

He glanced down at the legal pad again. He wanted to be careful with what he asked next. He needed to build up to the big questions he had, bring Winston along and not let her think he was second-guessing everything.

“Um, first off, I didn’t see anything in there about the bank card in the Cordell case. I know the guy took the money. Did he take the card?”

“No. It was in the machine. It rolled it out but when he didn’t take it, the machine automatically swallowed it again. It’s a built-in security measure so people don’t leave their cards to be taken.”

McCaleb nodded and drew a check mark next to that question on his pad.

“Okay. Next I have a question about the Cherokee. How come you didn’t put that out to the media?”

“Well, we did put it out but not right away. On that first day we were still evaluating things and didn’t put it into the first press release. I wasn’t sure we should put that out because then the guy might see it and just dump the car. A few days later, when nothing was happening and we were hitting the wall, I put out another press release with the Cherokee in it. Trouble is, Cordell was old news and nobody picked it up. A little weekly paper up there in the desert was the only one to run it. I know, it was a screwup. I guess I should’ve put it all out in the first press release.”

“Not necessarily,” McCaleb said as he drew another check on the pad. “I can see your reasoning.”

He read through the notes on the page again.