Magic Line (22 page)

‘Wow. Just like in the movies. OK, you better go on while I still can't see you.'

Delaney's office was too small to hold all his detectives sitting down, so discussions in his office were more like a bivuac than a meeting. Jason perched on the console and Oscar leaned against the file cabinet.

‘Banjo found a match between the guns we turned in and a recent heist. Ah, good, here he is now.' Delaney got everybody to move a couple of inches so they could wedge in one more chair.

Banjo Bailey, the crime lab's chemist and firearms expert, got his nickname moonlighting with a bluegrass band. He looked like a benign pixie with complex hair; he had a mustache whose upswept waxed ends were art works and a long pigtail at the back. Curled up on the chair nearest the door, he peered at them over his little round wire-frames and said, ‘This is a rare thing – looks like we might be going to solve a recent burglary case while we investigate this homicide. I entered the serial number on one of your guns and pulled up a list that matched almost everything you turned in.'

‘Way to go,' Ollie said.

‘Yeah. It's an odd list, too. Couple of quite valuable weapons, and the rest range from average to nearly worthless. But all taken in one break-in back in March.'

Delaney said, ‘Let's see, Ollie, did you send me that list we talked about? Ah, yes, here it is.' He brought up his list, and soon all the detectives were standing around his computer screen or Banjo's laptop.

‘Start with the Glock .45,' Delaney said, and read off a serial number.

‘Yeah. I got it,' Banjo said. ‘Let me read it back to you,' and read the same number off his list.

Delaney said, ‘How about a Smith & Wesson revolver?' He read a serial number. Banjo echoed it off his list. ‘OK, that's the two men in the yard,' Ollie said.

‘Now . . . you didn't turn in a .22 caliber weapon from that crime scene,' Banjo said, ‘but Sarah brought me a .22 slug out of one of her autopsies this week, and I think I've got the weapon that fired it on my list here.'

‘You have?' Delaney was looking at him like a kid who's just spotted an ice-cream truck.

‘Yup. I'm about eighty-five percent certain that slug was fired by a Derringer .22 caliber two-shot.' He read off a number.

‘Well, we won't have a serial number till we catch the guy who's carrying it,' Delaney said. ‘But we think that gun belongs to the bad guy who's still out there.'

‘The one the papers call “the lone survivor?”'

‘We've been calling him the ex-dead-guy,' Sarah said. ‘But now it's pretty certain his name is Robin Brady.'

‘And it figures that he provided the guns for this attack, doesn't it?' Delaney said. ‘Theft is his favorite crime – burglary, break-ins. That's what he went to prison for. This stash house is his first armed invasion – that we know of, anyway. He's moving up, the way they do.'

‘But why in the world,' Banjo said, ‘would anybody carry a little trinket like that Derringer to invade a stash house?'

‘Because it's so good for concealed carry,' Jason said. ‘Robin likes to carry his firepower in his undies.'

‘My stars,' Banjo said.

Jason muttered, ‘Country to the bone.'

‘I brought one to show you.' It nested easily in Banjo's slender palm. The handle was ivory, yellowed with age. ‘Two barrels, see? They swing to the side like this to reload. Small weapon, but high velocity – used at close range it can be lethal.'

‘Eighty-five percent,' Sarah said. ‘Can we take that to court and win with it?'

‘Guess you'd have to if you were going to trial today,' Banjo said, serenely smiling, ‘because it's the best I can do with what I've got now. The bullet was badly damaged by bouncing around the inside of a skull. But of course after you capture the suspect, I can test-fire his weapon, put some pictures on a projector, show some lands and grooves that match, and have a jury well persuaded . . .' He crossed his legs and cleared his throat. ‘When and if you can
catch
the guy.' He peered around the room humorously. ‘And if he's obliging enough to still be carrying the same gun . . .' All the detectives looked at their notes in silence. Finally Banjo turned a page and asked them, ‘What about the Desert Eagle?'

Ollie raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean you've got one of those on your list too?'

‘Sure do. Have you?'

‘Well, yes, but . . . it can't be a match to yours.'

‘You sure?' He read off a serial number.

Ollie blinked and said, ‘Say it again.' Sarah watched Ollie as Banjo read it again. His face remained stoical but his ears twitched just before he said, ‘It matches. How can that be?' He looked at Delaney as if he was owed an explanation.

‘I have no idea,' Delaney said.

Banjo said, ‘What's the problem?'

‘The Desert Eagle,' Sarah said, ‘we all thought until right now was being fired by one of the guards in the stash house.'

‘All right,' Banjo said politely. He looked around the room, puzzled to see so many detectives who seemed to think he was raining on their parade. ‘I still don't see—'

‘Up until now this conversation was proving that Robin Brady stole those guns. Agreed, guys?' Everybody nodded. ‘Which works with our growing perception, mine anyway, that Robin Brady was the leader of this gang that invaded the stash house.'

‘I think so, too,' Ollie said, and Oscar and Jason said together, ‘Me, too.'

‘Well, but, he couldn't have stolen all the guns on
both
sides. Could he?'

‘Ray keeps saying he's hot,' Ollie said, ‘but I can't see any way that would work.'

Sarah leaned toward Ellsworth's elaborately groomed face and asked him softly, ‘You don't have a Kalashnikov on that list, do you?'

‘Um . . . no.'

‘Ah.' She sat back, not knowing whether to feel relieved or more puzzled.

‘I do have a Lorcin .25 caliber semi-auto,' Ellsworth said. ‘Anybody interested in that?'

Ollie said, ‘No.'

‘Don't blame you,' Banjo said. ‘Lame excuse for a weapon.'

‘I've heard that,' Jason said. ‘You ever fired one?'

‘In the lab,' Banjo said. ‘Which is the only place I would fire one. It's got a nasty habit of jamming every few rounds.'

‘But we don't have one so why are we talking about it?' Delaney said. ‘Any other guns on that list, Banjo?'

‘No.'

‘Then let's get back to the Desert Eagle.'

‘Wait,' Sarah said. ‘Can we back up to the Lorcin a minute?'

Delaney frowned. ‘Why?'

‘Remember the video of the running man? He had a small handgun tucked in his waistband. Can't we blow up some stills of that shot and show them to Banjo?' she asked the criminalist. ‘You'd know one if you saw it, wouldn't you?'

‘Sure, if you've got a pretty good view of most of it.'

‘I think we do. It would settle the question we've never answered, boss,' Sarah said. ‘Whether the running man had any connection to this crime?'

‘OK,' Delaney said. ‘Do it. Now . . . the Desert Eagle. If it's on both lists it must have been stolen at the same time as the other three guns, right?' He looked at all the nodding heads. ‘By the same person, don't you suppose?'

‘We don't know he was alone,' Oscar said.

‘Good point,' Delaney said. ‘Banjo, do you know if they lifted any prints at that job?'

‘I heard not. Techies said they dusted and dusted, didn't get squat.'

‘Robin likes to wear gloves,' Sarah said.

‘No offense,' Oscar said, ‘but is it possible, Ollie, you got one number wrong?'

Ollie shook his head. ‘I went over this list several times – last of all with Stan from the evidence room. He read it back like you're doing now. So there's no way—' He met Delaney's eyes boring into him and sighed. ‘But I'll go back to the evidence room and check my list one more time against the gun.'

‘And when you prove you didn't make a mistake,' Sarah said, remembering the table in the stash house with all the guns and ammo lined up in careful rows, ‘what other scenarios will be left to consider?'

‘It wasn't old Baldy's gun after all,' Jason said.

‘In that case what was he firing? It was the only gun near him.'

‘Robin had a partner in the burglary,' Oscar suggested, ‘who also likes to wear gloves. And sell what he steals.'

‘Or Robin was alone at the burglary,' Jason said, ‘and running a little short of cash . . .' He loved speculation, called it ‘story time.' ‘So he decided to sell the biggest, most badass gun of the lot—'

‘I would have thought that would be the Dirty Harry,' Sarah said.

‘Ah, here we go with old Clint Eastwood again,' Banjo clucked, disparaging. ‘Cowboy actor boosts his asking price by showing he can hold a .44 Magnum steady with one hand.'

‘I've always figured he had a light plastic replica,' Jason said.

‘Shame on you,' Ollie said. ‘Clint wouldn't cheat.'

‘Made the gun's fortune, too,' Banjo said. ‘It's been the famous “Dirty Harry” ever since. Many a macho American male's walking around with a messed-up rotator cuff from trying to shoot the .44 Magnum the way Clint did it in the movies.'

Sarah said, ‘It's too heavy for me even with two hands.'

‘You've tried it? I'm surprised.'

She shrugged. ‘Somebody was always urging me to, so finally I did.'

‘And?'

‘I completely destroyed a target and both arms hurt for two days.'

‘Well, so think about it – Robin and his mark are talking high-powered weapons,' Jason said, getting back into the story. ‘Robin offers the S&W but the guy for some reason wants the Eagle instead.' He was really grooving on his narrative now, patting his head and bouncing one knee. ‘Said, “Nah, I like the one with the big brass slide.”'

‘I could see it happening that way,' Banjo said. ‘Some bad guys think they have to impress with their armament. Haven't you noticed that? Like, a guy who likes to carry a knife will usually carry two knives.'

‘Try to get done up like a real mad dog,' Jason said. ‘Yeah.'

‘And for a guy like that who's trying to bootstrap up from bad guy to terrifying guy, he sees that Desert Eagle pistol, it weighs over four pounds and looks like it's built to fight a war—'

‘Which I think it was, originally,' Ollie said. ‘Designed for the Israeli Army, right?'

‘Yes. Made here now, though,' Banjo said.

Ollie said, ‘I tried one once, at the range.'

‘And?'

‘If I was an Israeli boy and they told me I had to shoot that thing every week, I would think about joining the Palestinians.'

‘It kicks that bad?'

‘Like a mule.'

‘But some persons with felonious intent regard that as a personal challenge,' Jason said. ‘So Old Baldy loves the way the Desert Eagle keeps trying to break both his wrists! Says, “Hey, bitchin', I'll take it, how much?”'

‘And Robin's buyer just happens to be one of the guys guarding the stash house?' Delaney shook his head. ‘That's way too much coincidence for me.'

‘Yes.' Sarah lit up, suddenly, thinking. ‘But if you turn it around . . . suppose Robin decided he could spare one gun and went looking for a buyer. He finds a guy who says he wants something that shoots serious ammo. They talk about the awesome power of the seven rounds of .50 AE the Eagle will carry, and Robin makes the sale. By the time they're done talking he decides Baldy must be into something interesting and follows him home. As soon as he sees the heavy metal door with two locks . . .'

‘Now
that
sounds just like our Robin,' Jason said, ‘doesn't it? Sooo clever. I can just see him lurking around that house – he'd cuddle a cactus if he had to.'

‘Yeah,' Ollie said. ‘Tricky ol' Robin motoring around that Midvale Park neighborhood in two or three different vehicles, hiding in the bushes? Watching them move the coke and weed till he figured it all out.'

Banjo said, ‘You guys kind of love this crazy hoodlum, don't you?'

‘He's interesting to watch,' Sarah said. ‘He'll be more fun to catch.'

‘Man,' Ray said, walking in, ‘I hate to tell you this . . .'

‘Then don't,' Delaney said. ‘Where have you been?'

‘Down near the Rodeo Grounds, nosing around, showing Robin's picture to people . . . and I think we just missed ol' Robin again.'

The whole table said, ‘What?'

Delaney said, ‘Missed him where?'

‘I told you, near the Rodeo Grounds. I heard chatter on my radio – Norm Sapperstein talking about a white Taurus with Michelin tires. He was over on Twelfth Street at Ricky's Bar. Said he heard that Need To Locate we put out, so when he saw the rear end of a white Taurus poking out from the side of Ricky's he drove in to have a look. It was unlocked and the ignition was spun, so he called it in and he was standing by it, waiting for a tow, when I found him.'

Sarah said, ‘How'd you know it's the Taurus we chased?'

‘I didn't. But I went in and showed the bartender Robin's picture and he said, “Hell, that guy just left here.” I asked if he was alone and he said, ‘He was when he came in, but he hooked up with that long-haired girl from the university, she's here a lot.'

‘I can't stand it,' Sarah said. ‘How can we keep running into him like this and yet he stays one step ahead?'

‘I told you, the guy is hot. He may not be with the girl any more, either. I went back out and told Sapperstein, and he said, ‘You know, that's funny. I noticed them in the bar. I thought they were getting it on but she came out alone and drove away.'

‘In what?' Delaney said.