Deadman's Bluff - James Swain [82]
Mabel smiled into the receiver. An immediate apology, and a believable one to boot. “Thanks for calling back. I need your help.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Romero said.
She settled into her chair. “I’m assisting my boss with a case which involves a murder I believe George Scalzo was involved with.”
“A recent murder?”
“Yes. It took place two weeks ago at the Atlantic City Medical Center. I’m trying to determine Scalzo’s whereabouts during the time of the murder. When we spoke a few days ago, you told me that the FBI watches Scalzo, which I assume means you follow him whenever he goes out in public.”
Romero cleared his throat. “That would be a logical assumption.”
“Good. I realize that this is all hush-hush, but figured since we’re both trying to accomplish the same thing—”
“Which is?”
She hated when men turned dense, and she let her tongue slip. “To put the murderous bastard in jail.”
Romero laughed softly. “Yes. That’s the FBI’s goal as well. Please continue.”
“I was hoping that you could look at your records and see if Scalzo visited the Atlantic City Medical Center the night of the murder. It would be a tremendous help in putting another piece into this puzzle we’re wrestling with. Of course, it would remain strictly confidential.”
There was silence as Romero weighed her request. Mabel picked up a pair of misspotted dice lying on Tony’s desk and rolled them across the blotter. The dice had the numbers 2, 4, 6 printed on both sides. Because the human eye could see only three sides of a square, the duplication went unnoticed, allowing the cheater to win 90 percent of the time that he used them in a game of craps.
“I will need to speak with the agent in charge of monitoring Scalzo,” Romero said. “It will be his decision whether or not to release the information you’re asking for.”
“Of course,” Mabel said. “Should I give you the date?”
“Please.”
Mabel gave Romero the date and time of Jack Donovan’s murder.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Romero said. “Good-bye, Ms. Struck.”
“When should I expect to hear back from you?” Mabel asked.
There was another silence on the line. Then Romero said, “Is this an emergency, Ms. Struck?”
Tony and Gerry were tangling with a man who wanted them both dead. If that wasn’t an emergency, she didn’t know what was. “It most certainly is.”
He exhaled into the phone. “How about twenty minutes?”
“Twenty minutes would be perfect,” she said.
Mabel had once bought a pamphlet off the Internet that detailed all the free stuff you could get from the government. It included the obvious health care benefits and food stamps, and the not-so-obvious government grants. What the pamphlet didn’t mention was free help from the FBI, which to Mabel’s way of thinking wasn’t as outlandish as it sounded. The FBI were civil servants, no different from the working folks who picked up the trash and worked at the post office. They needed to be reminded of that every now and then.
She heard the front door slam. “Yolanda, is that you?”
“Yes,” Yolanda replied from the front of the house. “I was out taking a walk and saw the light was on.”
“Come on back, I could use the company,” Mabel said.
Yolanda appeared, holding her sleeping baby. The office was small, and she settled on the floor, sitting in a lotus position. She wore cut-offs and a T-shirt, no makeup, her hair topknotted carelessly. Mabel thought she’d never known a woman as comfortable in her own skin.
“Any luck with the FBI?” Yolanda asked.
“Matter of fact, that’s who I’m waiting to hear from,” Mabel said. “I spoke with Special Agent Romero and explained your theory about George Scalzo being involved with Jack Donovan’s murder.”
“Our theory,” Yolanda corrected her.
“Our theory. He promised to look into it and get right back to me.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Me too. Stay put, and I’ll whip something up. Do you mind holding the baby?”
“Of course not.”
Yolanda put the child on Mabel’s lap and headed for the kitchen. Lois was fast asleep, yet Mabel felt compelled to sing to her. Six months