Dark Horse

32

Do we pull him in?" Weiss asked.

They had crammed into the lieutenant's office-Landry, Weiss, and two other detectives: Michaels and Dwyer; and an unwelcome newcomer to the party-Special Agent Wayne Armedgian, FBI. Robbery/Homicide lieutenant William Dugan stood behind his desk, hands on his hips, a tall, tanned, gray-haired man who aspired to retire and go on the Senior PGA tour.

Dugan looked to Landry. "What do you think, James?"

"I think what we've got is too thin and circumstantial, unless Jade's blood type happens to match what we got out of the stall where Jill Morone was killed. Even that would be a stretch to hold him on. If we had a clue what his blood type is. He sure as hell isn't going to tell us. We'd need a court order to get a sample. Besides, we know that blood is likely Van Zandt's, anyway."

"You think," Weiss challenged. "Jade was seen arguing with the girl at Players. And he lied about not going back to the equestrian center."

"He lied about not having to go back," Landry corrected. "No one at the guard gate saw him come through. No one in the barn area saw him."

"No one saw Van Zandt either," Weiss said.

Landry shrugged. "They both know the back way in. Van Zandt was all over Jill Morone at Players before Jade got there. And we had the tip about the bloody shirt."

"The shirt we don't have," Weiss reminded him. "We don't even know that it really exists. We do know Jill Morone vandalized a couple of grand's worth of Jade's stuff. If he walked in and caught her… He could have killed her in the heat of the moment, then made it look like a rape attempt to try to put it on Van Zandt. Maybe he planted the shirt and made the nine-one-one call."

"Let's say they both did it," Landry offered. "I could be happy with that. They can have side-by-side executions."

"What do we know about the nine-one-one?" Dugan asked.

"It came from a pay phone outside Publix in the Town Square shopping center, half a block from the town house Van Zandt is staying in," Weiss said, watching Landry.

"Van Zandt's lawyer is screaming harassment and conspiracy," Dugan said.

Landry shrugged. "Judge Bonwitt said we had sufficient grounds for the search. Bert Shapiro can kiss his ass and mine."

"Conspiracy with whom?" Armedgian asked.

"Someone broke into Van Zandt's place last night while we had him here," Weiss explained. "And then we got the tip about the bloody shirt."

"Just as well you didn't find it," Armedgian said. "It probably would have gotten tossed out of court. Shapiro would have argued the shirt could have been planted."

"Van Zandt could move to Miami. Him and O.J. could become golf partners," Weiss suggested. Everyone but Landry chuckled politely at the bad joke.

"Or we could have that cocksucker dead to rights on a murder, locked up in jail while we nail the case down," Landry said, "instead of running around loose, free to get on a plane and leave the country anytime he wants."

"You think Van Zandt and Jade are in the kidnapping together?" Armedgian asked.

"Could be. Van Zandt's the pervert, Jade's the mastermind. Or it's Jade and someone else."

"Motive?"

"Money and sex."

"And what have you got on him?"

"Jade was last to see Erin Seabright. He claims she quit her job and left town, but she never told anyone else she was quitting," Landry explained.

Dwyer picked up. "Phone calls made from the kidnappers to the Seabright house came from a prepaid cell phone. With the phone number, we were able to get the name of the company that produced the phone, and from them we were able to get a serial number on the phone the calls came from. The phone was purchased at the Radio Shack on Okeechobee in Royal Palm Beach.

"The store has records of sales, but not of the serial numbers of the individual phones sold. They sold seventeen cell phones in the week prior to Erin Seabright's abduction. We've tracked three buyers through credit cards. The rest were cash transactions."

"We showed Jade's picture to the staff," Michaels said. "No one could ID him, but one of the clerks thought the name rang a bell."

"Why would Jade use his own name?" Armedgian asked.

"We could bring him in and ask him," Landry said. "But he's already threatened to call a lawyer, and if he pulls in the same breed of lawyer Van Zandt did, he's out of here in three minutes, and we've blown the ransom drop with nothing to show for it. This close to the appointed hour, they could panic and kill the girl-or kill her just because we pissed them off."

"Or you could hold Jade and try to get him to turn on his partner," Armedgian suggested.

Landry gave him the did-anybody-ask-you? look. "Do you know these people? Have you talked with Don Jade?"

"Well, no-"

"Ice wouldn't melt in his asshole. He's not copping to anything. We go near him, he's calling the dogs. It's a waste of time. Our best bet is to tail Van Zandt and Jade from a good distance, see if one of them goes to the girl, or if we can nail one or both of them at the drop. Then we've got real leverage and the lawyers will want to talk deal."

Armedgian fussed with the knot in his tie. "Do you really believe they're going to carry through with the drop?"

"Do we have a choice?" Landry said. "What do you want to do, Armageddon? Blow it off and go eat clams at Chuck and Harold's?"

"Landry," Dugan growled.

"What? What did I say?"

"The attitude… Special Agent Armedgian is here to assist us."

"I know what he's here for."

Armedgian raised his eyebrow. He appeared to have only one. A thick black caterpillar that crawled from one side of his bowling ball head to the other. "And what's that?"

Landry leaned toward him. "You're here because of the Belgian-through no fault of your own. And if you'd coughed up the goods on him the first time you were asked, maybe Jill Morone would still be alive."

Armedgian hung his eyelids at half-mast. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Neither do I," Dugan said. "What are you talking about, James?"

"I'm talking about the feds wanting a little international feather in their cap. Van Zandt turns out to be a serial killer, they want the bust."

"The only thing we have on Van Zandt," Armedgian said, "is some speculation from an agency in Europe. That's all. He's had a couple of minor charges dismissed. You should have learned the same thing just by asking Interpol, Detective Landry."

Landry wanted to get in his face and point out that someone had asked, but this asshole would bring Estes' name into it, and then all hell would break loose. As it was, Weiss was giving him the eye.

"Didn't you contact them?" Dugan asked. "I thought you contacted them."

"Yeah, I contacted them." Landry kept his attention on the fed. "All right, I'll play. What are your people doing here? I don't want them underfoot, fucking up the drop."

Armedgian held his hands up. "It's your show. I'm here to consult and advise."

My ass, Landry thought.

"I've worked kidnappings," Armedgian said. "Have you checked out the drop site?"

Landry made his eyes wide. "Gee, should we do that?"

"Landry…"

"I understand it's very open," Armedgian said.

"I've got a man out there keeping an eye on the place," Dugan said. "It's a difficult location for surveillance. He's hiding in a horse trailer across the road from the show grounds."

"There's one road that circles through Equestrian Estates," Michaels said. "And a dirt side road that can be accessed through a gate near the drop site. "We can't have cars cruising through there."

He gave the fed the hard stare too.

"My people can tail Van Zandt, Lieutenant," Armedgian offered. "That way your people are clear of any harassment charges."

"Fucking magnanimous," Landry muttered.

Dugan scowled at him. "That's enough out of you or I'll feed you to Bert Shapiro myself."

Landry kept his eyes on Armedgian. "Lawyers or feds. We get fucked over either way."

He just hoped Erin Seabright didn't end up paying the ultimate price.