Breaking Point (16 page)

             
"The labs blow up a lot, too," he went on. "They use ether in the process, and sometimes try to hurry the chemistry by boiling a batch on the stove to evaporate it down quicker. The ether is volatile and catches fire and between that and the ammonia that's sitting around, the whole place goes up in a minute."

             
"All in all, a very dangerous proposition," I said.

             
"Exactly. So tell me where you got this and where you think the lab is and we'll go in there and clean it up."

             
I'd like to have told him, at least some of it. But if I mentioned finding the crystal in Charlie Wilson's shoe, he might get in the way of my finding out what was really going on and whether Frank Goodwin was involved in Charlie's death. Eventually he'd remember that I was asking about Wilson a few days ago, so he might start there anyway. But I wasn't going to help him make the connection. If I told him where Frank's cabin was and it turned out there was no meth set up there after all, I was going to look like a dunce on my first case since arriving in Iowa. He'd just have to wait, I decided.

             
"It's like this, Bill." I pointed to the bag on the desk. "There's the meth. I may know about a lab and then again, I may be wrong. I promise I won't go in and try to capture the guys or anything. I'll just look around and if it is a lab, I'll turn it over to you. That's the best I can do."

             
Bill shook his head. "Call me as soon as you have anything. I'm on until three o'clock the rest of the week. Here's my cellular number, too. I'll leave it turned on in case you need me." He scribbled on the back of an envelope, tore the scrap off, and handed it to me. I looked at his name and phone number before I slipped the paper in my wallet, behind my driver’s license. "And Rudy, be really careful." He shook his head again and watched me walk out.

Chapter 17

             
When I passed through my office, I checked the answering machine. The red light was flashing, as seemed the usual case lately. It amazed me that I could be home all day and get no phone calls. If I left for thirty seconds to take out the garbage, the damned light would be blinking when I returned. I don't know how people ever kept in touch without these things. I pressed the button and listened.

             
"Rudy, it's Iris Wilson. Sorry I forgot to call you back. I've been really busy. Gary's coming by in a little while and we're leaving for Sioux City to spend Thanksgiving with his folks, so I thought I'd better call. I've been thinking and maybe we should just let Charlie rest in peace. I mean, Gary and I are happy and it was probably just an accident and I think we should let it go. I'll call you when I get back and arrange to pay what I owe you. Thanks for everything and have a nice Thanksgiving."

             
Great. I finally had the photo I'd been waiting for and now Iris was out of town and I had no way to find the senior Wilsons. And to top it off, Iris wanted to drop the case. Shit. I quickly dialed her number but once again, the machine picked up. They'd already left. Damn. I dropped into my desk chair and swiveled from side to side like a little kid on a slow amusement park ride. I had to think of a way to get that California phone number.

             
Iris was out of town for several days and if I drove over, she wouldn't be home to let me in. On the other hand, no one was there to see me if I found my own way in. I weighed the options as I saw them: The discomfort of a night or two in jail versus the pain of my own curiosity remaining unsatisfied. As a plan began to form in my swiveling brain, I spun the chair three hundred sixty degrees and lifted my feet off the floor to enjoy the ride. I'd have to wait until dark, of course, and that meant Woody would be here. If I knew my old buddy, he wouldn't mind a little adventure at all.

             
While I was near the phone, I remembered to call the airlines and see if Woodrow's plane would be on time. I got through right away, which isn't difficult to do. All I got was a recorded menu. After punching in an assortment of numbers to communicate my wishes, I finally arrived at the flight information menu. I plugged in the flight number and was told, electronically of course, that the flight was on time and would land at 7:05PM, central time. I checked my watch. It was almost four. I had plenty of time for a walk at the center and maybe even a nap, before Melanie arrived at six.

             
I was asleep on the couch with the TV tuned to ESPN when she knocked on the front door. I really needed to get a doorbell out there. That's one thing the post office had never had a use for. I'd purposely left the television's volume turned down low so I'd hear her and it worked fine. She and her friend said they'd knocked only once before they'd heard me call out that I was on my way. I invited them in to have a seat.

             
"How was the road on the way up?" I asked. "Any snow on it?"

             
Amy, a petite blonde with reddish highlights, answered. "Not much. It was clear after we got on the highways." She looked around the room. "Was this really a post office?"

             
I assured her that it had been a working post office until just a few years ago and told them to feel free to look around while I got ready to go. I could hear their exclamations as they wound around through the rooms. By the time I'd gotten into my coat, they were finished with their tour and met me at the front door. We waved to Amy as she pulled out, then got into the Grand Am. Melanie seemed quieter than usual.

             
"I almost forgot," she said. "Here's your knife." She handed it to me in the dark interior and I shifted my weight to push it into the side pocket of my jeans. I thanked her and mentioned her mood.

             
"You seem a little bit down tonight. Everything OK?"

             
"I guess so. My stupid car is still messed up and the garage wants to keep it until they can make it repeat this goofy stalling thing it's been doing. They think it's the fuel pump, but they have to see it fail to be sure. It's some kind of warranty thing. The only place I could find a decent priced rental was at the airport. And to make my life a little more miserable, my uncle has been like a bear all week. He left this morning for hunting camp and was hardly talking to me before he went. At first I thought maybe he knew I'd been up there with you, but I don't see how he could and he should know I wouldn't take anybody all the way up to his property anyway. He was, what's the word, surly, maybe? Like he's just pissed off at the world. I hate it when men think women are too stupid to understand what's going on. They won't talk about it and they act like they're so damned superior." Her voice dropped half an octave and she spat out the word, "assholes!" Suddenly Melanie laughed. "Oh well," she said cheerfully, "maybe it's genetic. My dad's the same way sometimes. I don't know why I let them bother me."

             
"Maybe your uncle is just under some pressure at the store," I offered. "He'll probably feel a lot better after his time away. Is he planning to stay up there over Thanksgiving, to give himself a long break?"

             
"Probably. Who knows?"

             
It seemed like a good time to keep her talking about Frank. I asked if he was married and she told me he never had been. He was her father's youngest brother and was a little older than me, in his mid-forties. I realized that I hadn't ever seen the man and wouldn't know him if I did see him.

             
"Do you look like him?" I queried

             
She laughed again, and it was pleasant to hear after the sullen start to our drive. "I wouldn't know. He has one of those huge beards and longer hair that makes him look like a bear. I might have his nose, but his eyes are blue. That's about all that's visible on his face. Besides, he's prematurely gray. His hair was dark, though, like mine, when he was younger. I guess there's a family resemblance."

             
The road was dry all the way to the airport turnoff and we relaxed and listened to some country music for the rest of the ride. The first time I'd driven to the airport, I'd been a little confused. One highway marker would indicate the number of miles to the Cedar Rapids Airport and a little farther on there would be another sign for the Eastern Iowa Airport. I thought there were two of them. There's only one, though, and it's now called the Eastern Iowa Airport. Apparently when they changed the name, some of the highway markers were overlooked and never replaced. Everyone I'd heard refer to it still called it the Cedar Rapids Airport, so go figure.

             
The exit off Route Nine-Sixty-Five is several miles south of Cedar Rapids. From there I made the turn west onto the aptly named, Wright Brother's Boulevard. The airport entrance is a mile or so from the exit and I soon saw the lights of the parking lot ahead of me. Taking a ticket at the gate, I found a place in the short term lot and pulled in. I loved this place. Compared to the sprawling airport in Pittsburgh, packed with scurrying hordes of humanity, the Eastern Iowa facility was a peaceful, orderly place. I felt like it almost wasn't real and kept expecting to see little cylindrical Fisher Price pilots and passengers. On the way across the snow-packed lot, Melanie lost her footing and started to fall, catching herself on my arm at the last second.

             
"Whoa, there," I'd laughed, as I lifted my shoulder to keep her from going down. When she'd regained control, she continued to hang onto my arm.

             
"Sorry, Rudy," she said. "I'm usually more graceful than that. These are my favorite western boots and I keep forgetting I shouldn't wear cleats in the snow."

             
"Would you change them if you realized it in time?"

             
"Probably not," she giggled. "I like them too much. I'll just have to make sure I have a strong arm to hang onto at all times." I chuckled politely, but didn't reply.

             
Once inside, we passed the ticketing counters, where several passengers were buying tickets and checking their bags. Next were two or three small coffee and magazine shops, followed by the security area. A pair of walk-through scanners and x-ray conveyor belts was situated at the bottom of the escalators that led up to the gates. One of the two security lanes was usually closed unless it was the busy time, between noon and three PM.

             
It was still a few minutes until Woody's flight arrived, so I walked Melanie over to the car rental area at the far end of the lobby. She'd arranged to pick up a vehicle from Budget Rent a Car, from whom she had some sort of coupon. There was a guy ahead of her in line and just one clerk on duty. When it was Melanie's turn, there was a bunch of paperwork to take care of, so I told her I'd go meet Woody and then stop back to make certain she had a car to drive home.

             
He was one of the first people off the plane and certainly one of the most visible. At six feet even, his height didn't attract attention, but his width surely did. His shoulders probably took up two seats in the plane. It suddenly occurred to me that that was probably why he was one of the first to debark. He'd flown first class, where the seats were bigger and would better accommodate his bulk. I wondered if my sister had bought him the ticket or if he'd upgraded the one she'd sent him. It didn't matter. He was here for Thanksgiving, and for my little burglary expedition and that was all that mattered.

             
We whooped it up a little, with some backslapping and handshaking. Then I steered him over to the Budget counter and introduced him to Melanie, who was in the final stages of her transaction. Feeling magnanimous, I offered to stroll over to the luggage area and retrieve his bags, which he'd described as "Early Steelers." I thought I'd recognize them. Leaving him in Melanie's company, I headed for the baggage claim, which, in the small airport, wasn't very far away.

             
The area was starting to clear out, as most of the passengers had come straight over and gotten their bags as soon as they'd come off the plane. There were several still on the conveyor, including two black soft-sided suitcases with a faded gold Steelers emblem on each side. I was almost fooled by a yellow and black Iowa Hawkeyes duffle bag before I spotted Woody's well-worn Steelers' set. I plucked the suitcases up and went back to Budget.

             
Even from the baggage area, I could see that Woodrow was not suffering at all in Melanie's company. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was flexing. Maybe he was. He was straightened to his full six feet and Melanie's face was only a few inches below his. I had to admit they made a handsome pair. As I approached, she tilted her head back and laughed. Her voice was the sort of low, alto type that I'd always found attractive, although none of the women I'd been serious about ever seemed to emit that particular tone. I wondered what that meant. I called out to them as I got nearer.

             
"Hey, you two. How's that great automobile escapade coming along?"

             
"All set." Melanie dangled a set of keys in the air. "I was telling Woody that maybe he should ride down to your place with me. He's starving and we could grab a pizza on the way and meet you at your place. Do you mind?"

             
Whoa, Nellie, I thought. Back up the truck. I realized that I needn't have worried about Melanie taking my invitation the wrong way. If she had, she was apparently over it by now. I probably looked shocked but tried to cover with a smile. I glanced at Wood, and his face was one big grin. Who was I to argue? Besides, I was hungry, too.

             
"Sure. I'll just toss these in my car and head on down. I'll see you two at my place." I slugged Woody on the shoulder and he waved as I started for the parking lot. They'd be going out the other side of the lobby to arrive at the rental car lot. Shaking my head in disbelief, I had to smile, at them as well as myself. I'd been anticipating my old friend's arrival and was concerned about Melanie's possible interest in me. Now, I was all alone and soon to be hosting the two of them on what looked to be the first of several meetings. Was this fate, then, or karma? Or was there some sort of deity watching over us? I suspected I'd need a few more clues before I solved that one, if I ever did.