He called Dispatch: ''What happened?''
''We've got two squads at Snyder's. Nobody there. They remember her, though.
They just missed them.''
''Anybody get their vehicle?''
''No. We just got there, the guys are checking around…''
MARTIN AND SANDY GOT BACK IN THE CONTINENTAL and Martin said, ''What'd Dick have to say?''
''He hasn't seen anything on the TV. He said he's going to take a nap.''
''Getting shot can take it out of you,'' Martin said, as he eased the car into the street.
THE MAYOR LEANED ON THE WINDOWSILL, HANDS IN the pockets of his sport jacket, fists clenched, head down. Lester lounged in a side chair, looking almost as though he were sleeping. Roux turned back and forth in her swivel chair, her eyes on Lucas.
''Does anybody else know?'' the mayor asked.
''Just Anderson. I told him the whole story, and asked him to check the computers, see if he could tell if anybody wasmessing with the insurance records. And he's running this Bill Martin name, to see if it pans out.''
''We gotta keep this one thing quiet, this insurance thing,'' the mayor said, shaking his finger at Roux and Lucas. ''We gotta find this guy, if he exists, and nail him, before anybody else knows.''
''Man, I can hardly believe it,'' Roux said. ''Maybe it's bullshit.''
''It's got a bad feel,'' Lucas said. ''We've got one source who thought she saw a cop. Then Darling calls, and she says cop.''
Roux held up a finger and punched a number into her phone. She said, ''This is
Roux. Anything?'' She listened for a moment, then said, ''Damnit. If anything happens, get back.''
She hung up and said, ''Still nothing at the Snyders. We're sending some guys down to print the phone, make sure it was Darling. I can't imagine that…''
She was cut off by a knock at the door, and a half-second later, Anderson stuck his head in: ''Lucas said if I got anything…''
''Yeah, come on in,'' Lucas said. ''What'd you get?''
''Two things. You want the good news, or the bad news?''
''Good news,'' the mayor said. ''We haven't had much.''
''We ran Bill Martin, conventional spelling, against Dick LaChaise, the Seed,
Wisconsin and Michigan. We got a bunch of hits-he's pretty well known with the gang. He's a gun dealer, by the way. We're sending all the prints we took out of the house to the FBI, and they'll run them. We should know in ten minutes if we've got a match.''
''Excellent,'' Lucas said. To the mayor: ''That'd be the third guy.''
''And it'd prove that you were talking to Sandy Darling,'' Anderson pointed out.
''Not just some bullshit artist.''
''The bad news,'' Lucas said.
Anderson had a half-dozen sheets of paper in his hands, and he shuffled them nervously. ''When did your source see the cop with LaChaise? In the laundromat?''
''Must've been… yesterday? In the early morning.''
''Oh, God.'' He shuffled the paper some more, his mouth working. ''Yesterday, somebody accessed the insurance files on everybody in your task force.''
''Who was it?'' asked Roux.
''We don't know,'' Anderson said. ''They were accessed and printed out through
Personnel, at six o'clock in the morning. There's nobody in Personnel at six o'clock.''
''From what O'Donald said, the guy she saw was a street cop-not somebody from
Personnel,'' said Lucas.
''So we got a cop with a source in Personnel,'' Roux said. Lucas shook his head:
''Something like this, you might get one bad guy, but not two. Unless… any of the women in Personnel married to a street cop?''
Anderson shrugged. ''I can find out.''
''Do that,'' Roux said grimly.
''But, uh…'' Anderson seemed reluctant.
''What?'' asked Lucas.
''Personnel has been raided a few times. You know that. Guys want to look at their files, want to look at test scores or salaries. There'd be more than a few guys around here who could get inside, and who probably know enough about computers to pull up the insurance records.''
''But when you think about how many, I bet it wouldn't be that many,'' Lucas said. ''So make a list. We'll show mugs to O'Donald.''
''If there's a cop in on this, we're gonna get hurt,'' Roux groaned.
''But why would a cop line up with LaChaise? LaChaise is a goner,'' the mayor said.
''Blackmail,'' said Lucas. He looked at Anderson. ''When you figure out the computer stuff, let's talk about who's got the shaky rep. Somebody LaChaise might get to.''
''If it's a cop, he's dead,'' Roux said to the mayor. The mayor pushed away from the windowsill. ''I don't want to hear that,'' he said.
''I don't even want to think about it-but somebody would put him down, given the chance. I guarantee it.''
THE CHIEF OF SURGERY TOOK WEATHER ASIDE AND asked, ''Are you going to be okay?''
''Sure. I mean, heck, my own secretary can't track me down. I don't think some hillbilly gunman's gonna get me.'' She flashed a grin at him. ''Don't worry about it, Loren. If I thought it'd be a problem, I wouldn't be here.''
FOURTEEN
LUCAS FOUND WEATHER AND ANOTHER WOMAN IN A thirteenth-floor laboratory, looking at skin grafts on a white rat. Weather was surprised when he poked his head in the door: ''We need to talk,'' he said gruffly.
The other woman looked at Weather as though Weather should be insulted. But
Weather nodded: ''Sure…'' And when they got out in the hall, she asked,
''How mad are you? You look kind of white around the eyes.''
''Don't joke about it,'' he said, his voice suddenly rasping. ''We have a tape of a phone call and they were talking about you.''
''About me?''
''Yeah. They want to get you, because you're with me. I'm out there busting my balls running these assholes down, and now I've got to spend a half hour looking for you because you've run off someplace…''
''Hey,'' she said sharply. ''I did not run off. I went to a hospital, where I work.''
''And told everybody you really didn't want to talk to me, so when we get this phone call, I wind up having to ditch the investigation to find you.''
''I didn't ask you to do that,'' she said.
He stopped talking for a second, then said, ''Listen, just what the fuck do you think is gonna happen if one of these people shows up here with a machine gun?
You think they're gonna ask for you, and take a number? Or you think maybe they'll shoot a couple of your friends to make the point, then ask where you're at. You're not just risking your life. You're risking theirs. There are already six people dead from this thing.''
''Eight,'' she said. ''Don't forget the two women at the credit union.''
MARTIN DROVE DOWN I-35W TO BURNSVILLE, THEN, BY memory, took them through a rat's-nest of suburban streets, and finally to a blue rambler, where a snow-packed driveway led to a double garage. Martin parked in the street. ''Hope he's home,'' Martin said, leaning across Sandy to look out the side window. ''He is, most days.''
''Want me to wait?'' she asked. She'd run, once Martin was out of sight.
''Better come along,'' Martin said.
''I was so scared in the store, that somebody would recognize me,'' Sandy said.
''I don't think Dave'll recognize you,'' Martin said. ''He doesn't watch much
TV. And he's a little shy.''
Martin rang the doorbell, waited, rang it again and the door opened. Dave-Martin hadn't mentioned his last name-was an older man with thick glasses, wearing a
Patagonia pullover. He pushed open the storm door, saw Sandy behind Martin and blushed.
''How y' doing, Dave?''
''Bill, come on in.'' Dave pushed the door wider. ''You on a trip?''
''Yeah, I am-heading out to the Dakotas.''
''You heard about the trouble we're having?'' Dave glanced sideways at Sandy and blushed again.