Melicek lived in an apartment in an old house not far from the Metrodome; the navigation system in the Lexus was pretty good, but the addresses were so cut up that Lucas took them down the street at ten miles an hour, looking for street numbers. They were getting close when Shrake said, suddenly, "Hey. Whoa. Stop. Back up."
"What?" Lucas looked over at him. Shrake was looking out the passenger-side window, back behind the truck.
"This guy we just passed. I want to look at him. He's right over there. Back up."
Lucas backed up a hundred feet, and Shrake popped the door and hurried across the street. There was little light, but Lucas saw him talking to a black man in what looked like jeans and a tight black jacket. There was a staggering tussle for a moment, and Lucas popped his door, ready to run over, but then Shrake yelled, "Open the back door. Open the back door."
He had the guy in an arm-bar and was hustling him across the street. As they came up, Lucas realized the man was not wearing a tight black jacket. He wasn't wearing anything at all above his waist.
"Jesus."
"Better get him to the ER," Shrake said. "He's fucked up."
Shrake was in the backseat with the man, who began shaking violently, and Lucas did a U-turn and Shrake took off his coat and put it on the man and said, "We need to move right along." And he said, "Sit up, take a deep breath, take a deep breath, come on, man, deep breath, now don't do that…"
"Ah, jeez, don't let him barf," Lucas said.
"Better hurry."
Hennepin General was ten or twelve blocks away, and Lucas ran all the lights going in, piled up to the ER and ran inside. A nurse looked up and asked, "What?" and Lucas said, "I'm with the BCA. We need a gurney in a hurry, we got a guy in bad shape out in my truck."
The ER people piled out and put the man on the gurney and a couple of docs came and took him away. Lucas left his name and office number, and told the nurse where he'd picked the guy up. Shrake added, "He's got some bad shit inside him. He didn't even know he wasn't wearing a coat." THEY WERE BACK outside and Lucas said, "That's your good deed for the year."
"If he hadn't walked under that light… he walked under that light and I thought, Man, that's skin," Shrake said. "I kind of didn't believe it, but I had to look."
"I'll put you in for something. A medal, or something. Or we could get the guys to chip in, buy you one of those family packs of Cheetos."
"I'm countin' on ya," Shrake said. MELICEK CAME to the door in a pair of yellowed Jockey shorts, a brown T-shirt, and red velvet bedroom slippers. He was a short, fat man with a receding hairline and a brush mustache. A cigarette hung from his lower lip, and he was scratching his stomach. He looked at Lucas and Shrake and said, "Just what I needed. Makes my day complete."
He stepped back, a mute invitation, and Lucas followed him in, Shrake a step behind. Melicek had one room, plus a bathroom with an old cast-iron tub visible through an open door. A bed was stuck along one wall, an easy chair next to it, facing a flat-panel TV There were two kitchen chairs at a table next to a refrigerator; there was no stove, but a microwave sat on a sink counter. The place smelled like pizza, tobacco, marijuana, bananas, and wallpaper mold. A single window looked out over a porch roof to the street.
"Mike Haines and Shooter Chapman," Lucas said.
"That figures. The dumb shits finally got themselves shot by somebody, huh?" He took the easy chair, and pointed the cops at the kitchen chairs.
"Smoke a little dope, there, Mr. Melicek?" Shrake asked.
"Yeah, but not enough to worry guys like you," he said. "I don't know anything about what Mike and Shooter were doing. I talked to them last week, we had a couple beers."
"You still run with the Seed?"
"Not right at the moment. Me and my ex-wife used our home equity loan to buy new bikes. Then everything went in the toilet, and U.S. Bank got the house and the bikes, and my ex-best friend got the wife. Maybe U.S. Bank is starting a gang. They got enough bikes."
"What do you do for a living?" Shrake asked.
Melicek snorted. "What does it look like? Nothin'. I was doing assembly until that shut down, then the unemployment ran out, so now I'm on welfare."
They thought about the perils of negotiating a capitalist economy for a moment, then Lucas said, "Three guys went into the University Hospitals and robbed the pharmacy, got away with maybe a half-million in drugs. Mike and Shooter were two of them. What we're asking around is, who is smart enough to figure out how to do that, and also mean enough to shoot his own pals?"
Melicek tilted his head and said, "The same guy who is smart enough to figure out I talked to you guys, and mean enough to come over here and kill my ass."
"We're talking to a lot of people-in fact, we got your name from other members of the Seed, who said you were friendly with Haines and Chapman."
"Well, I didn't do it," Melicek said. "If I had a half-million in drugs, you think I'd live in a shithole like this for one more minute?"
"Maybe… if you were being smart about it," Shrake said.
"If I was that smart, I wouldn't be living in a shithole like this in the first place," Melicek said. He squinted at Lucas: "Who'd you talk to about me?"
Lucas shook his head.
"It was that fucker Lincoln, wasn't it?"
Lucas took out his notebook, wrote, "Lincoln," and said, "Thank you."
"Hey, I didn't tell you anything…"
They pushed him, not getting much more than "Lincoln," and finally Lucas asked, "What exactly is your relationship to the Macks?"
"I'm one of their beer drinkers," he said.
"You think the Macks could have had anything to do with the robbery?"
Melicek opened his mouth to answer, thought better of it, and shut his mouth again.
"I take that as a big 'yes,'" Lucas said.
"I'm a little pissed about Mikey and Shooter. They weren't bad guys, you know, under it all," Melicek said. He was leading up to something.
"Come on, spit it out," Lucas said. "You know you want to."
"You know that picture the cops put out on the robbery? To the TV stations?" Melicek asked. "They say the witness saw him?"
"Yeah?"
"It sorta looks… not exactly, but if you talked to them, you oughta know as good as I do… it sorta looks like Joe Mack. At least, to me it does."
Shrake and Lucas looked at each other, then Lucas said, "The guy we met, who said he was Joe Mack, had a skinhead cut and a clean shave."
"What?"
"Just about bald," Lucas said.
"Then he got that way since the weekend," Melicek said. "Last time I saw him, he, well, he looked like that drawing."
Shrake said, "If you weren't short, fat, and male, I'd kiss you on the lips."
"Hey, that's okay," Melicek said. "I can live without it."
7
BACK AT LUCAS'S OFFICE, late now, they went to the computers, looking for Joe Mack mug shots, found his driver's license ID photo-and Melicek had been telling the truth. When the ID photo was taken, Joe Mack had a full head of hair and a curly reddish-blond beard. Lucas pulled the photo up as a.jpg, called Letty, his daughter, a night owl, on her cell phone, and said, "I'm going to e-mail you a.jpg. Get your mom to look at it. Get her on the phone."
"I think she's in bed."
"Ah, poop."
"But she says she's not working early tomorrow. I could get her up."
"See if she's sound asleep. If she's not, get her up."
He sent the photo along and then Letty came back and said, "She wasn't asleep. She's coming."
"You got the photo…"
She said, "Not yet," and then yelled, "Mom? Mom! Come here."
A minute later Weather came on, sounding sleepy, and asked, "What photo?"
"A guy who could be your robber," and in the background, he heard Letty say, "Got it."