“Now, that starts my spine crawling,” Kendall said.
And still Marquez had found nothing salient to their case.
They were asking for Nyland’s phone records as well as those of Sierra Guides, trying to ride the momentum of the bust, but phone records could be harder to get. Some judges were reluctant. He found a diaphragm with a happy face drawn on it and then looked at the teeth again and re-examined the knife. He touched the edge of the blade and cut through the latex glove.
“What are you doing with the teeth, Marquez?”
“I’ll bag them if you want, but it’s going to be hard to argue they have anything to do with bear poaching.”
“We’ll have our warrant this afternoon, but he may get out first. Bag ‘em now, if you don’t mind.” Marquez turned at the order, studied Kendall, realizing the detective had hid his true feelings about finding Fish and Game here. He’d hid his anger and frustration so he could get inside.
Marquez bagged the teeth though, and they moved back out into the little living space. When they took the cushions off the seats built around a table bolted to the floor they found more storage.
In those compartments were boxes of ammunition, including .30-caliber shells. These got loaded into Shauf’s van and they would go to DOJ. Kendall wrote down the box numbers and photographed them.
In the second trailer were stacks of bear hides and a workbench area where Nyland stored his power tools, a Skilsaw, a cordless Makita drill, a white five-gallon plastic bucket with a carpenter’s nail bags in it, a router and power planer, and then among the hand tools on the bench, Marquez pointed out a couple of surgical saws. There wasn’t enough here for someone in the hunting guide business.
“He’s storing equipment somewhere else,” Marquez said. “Out at the Broussards’, maybe.”
Now he walked Kendall out the trail to the little meadow with the fire pit. They lifted the iron lid off, and Kendall knelt and began sifting through the ashes as Marquez showed Hawse what else they’d found out here. Kerosene. Firewood stacked near a tree. Marquez could see the detectives planned to be here a while, and he let Kendall know he was leaving.
“Marquez,” Kendall called to him. “You’re not going to want to hear this, but we’re looking at the possibility Petroni took the shots at you.”
“He’d aim at you first.”
“What if your bear farmer is Petroni? What did you tell me you’ve paid for bile products so far? Thousands, right? And you’re telling me there’s a lot of money in this. That’s real motive for a guy starved for cash and in a position to set up shop. Maybe that’s what Stella knew about.”
“You still don’t have any idea of where’s he’s gone, do you?”
“Doesn’t matter where,” Kendall said. “Mexico, wherever, we’ll bring him home. Do you know someplace in the mountains he’d go to hide?”
“No.”
“Did you think anymore about what I threw at you the other night?”
Kendall kept talking and Marquez stood in the dry grass twenty feet from him but only half listening, his head buzzing, their bear farmer’s voice and the shots still loud in his head.
“Petroni would have good reason to use a voice changer.
Think about it,” Kendall called, as Marquez turned and walked away.
After driving away from the meadow, Marquez took another call, this one unexpected but initially hopeful. It was Ungar.
“Hey, did you make that bust with the politician?”
“No, those were uniform wardens.”
“I figured it was you for sure, and there were a couple of other busts in Stockton.”
“How do you know about Stockton?”
“My cousin called and told me he lost a shipment of bear paw that was supposed to go to LA.”
“Those were his?”
“So you know about them?”
“Yeah, we got notified. We hear about everything.”
“I talked to him about your offer.”
“What he’d say?”
“He wants to go for it but wants me to set it up.”
“He must really trust you.”
“I started feeling lousy after you were here last, thinking about what you’re doing humping through the woods and driving around and not getting paid much.”
“Don’t let it get you down.”
“You kind of pissed me off early this summer and I haven’t shown you the right respect since. I mean, what I’m saying about my cousin, that’s true, I don’t want him going down. His life is messed up enough. He owes for the bear product that didn’t deliver in Stockton, the stuff the police got. He’s afraid it’ll get him killed.”
“Who’ll kill him?”
“The man he’s delivering for.”
“Delivering where in LA?”
“I’ll get it all for you. He’ll come in and give you names, but we’ve got to work it all out first. I want to make a deal where he gives you what he knows and he gets immunity.”
Marquez looked at the road ahead and drove and was quiet a moment.
“He’s tied in with the guys in Placerville,” Ungar said. “He knows who you’re looking for. He knows the guy behind it all, the guy doing the bears in cages.”
“Okay, get one piece of that from him, one piece that I can check out and we’ll make it happen.”
“I’ve got it.”
“You’ve got it now? Let’s hear it.”
There was a long pause, Ungar drawing it out and anticipation flooding into Marquez. He knew Ungar had been up here several times. They’d always known Ungar knew more; the question was how much.
“It’s not the type of guy you’d expect.”
“You’ve already got a name.”
“This guy is like me, he’s got a successful business. He works out of Sacramento.”
“Lives there?”
“That’s right.”
Durham. Has to be Durham. “I need a name.”
“Hey, I know, but not until we meet and you’ve got the deal done on your side. Then I want to meet you alone.”
“Let me see what I can do, I’ll call you back.”
“When?”
“Soon.” Marquez knew he could say yes right now, but something restrained him. “I’ve got to talk to my chief and the DA. I need more of what your cousin has been involved in. You told me before that all he did was deliver, but now you’re saying he owes money. I need to know how involved he is before I can negotiate something. They’re not going to approve anything without knowing first who they’re dealing with.”
“I’m giving you a way to get to the man you’re after.”
“Call your cousin, call me back.” Marquez hung up.
35
Marquez took a call from Keeler, who was at his campsite at Ice House Lake. Keeler was so certain of who he’d seen that Marquez drove there next. He called Bell on the way, got it going in case there was a deal to be made with Ungar.
“Why’s he coming forward now?” Bell asked. “Is it this Stockton bust?”
“I talked to Delano, the vice cop handling it, they don’t have any leads, and they don’t have anyone of Korean descent in custody or as a suspect.”
“We’re supposed to get this cousin immunity though we don’t even know what he’s done yet?”
“That’s what he’s asking for.”
“And he’s already leading you to Durham.”
“Yeah, he’s feeding us Durham.”
“And you think he knows Durham?”
“All I know is he called the morning after someone shot at me.”
He stayed on the line with Bell until driving up to Ice House and finding Keeler’s camper. Bell said he’d find out what kind of deal could be offered, and they agreed to ask for more help in trying to locate Durham. They’d also try to re-establish surveillance on Ungar.
Marquez walked up to the camper, his mind still on Durham and Ungar. He’d given Keeler photos of all possible suspects, as well as photos of the Broussards and others Marquez believed might be suppliers. Then Keeler called this morning and said Ungar had visited him.
“Pull up a chair,” Keeler said, and Marquez unfolded one of the lawn chairs leaning against the camper. Keeler was sitting alongside a portable grill cooking sausages and red peppers that spattered juices into the flame.