Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [121]
“Your wife is on the phone,” she said.
“You called her?” Kerney asked.
“Darn tooting, I did,” Helen replied.
Kerney punched the blinking button. “I’m all right,” he said quickly.
“A smashed hand is not all right,” Sara said emphatically.
“It’s only two broken fingers. I’ll be fine.”
“You are not a twenty-something cop without a family, Kerney. Stop acting like one. Tell me exactly what the doctor said.”
“I don’t need surgery, and I’ll be able to use the fingers when the bones heal. It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me. Are you going home now?”
“Yes, as soon as I send Sergeant Pino to the DA’s office with all the paperwork.”
“Good. I’ll call you at home. Put Helen back on the line.”
“What for?”
“Since I can’t be there to take care of you, Helen has volunteered.”
“To do what?”
“Whatever needs doing, but mostly to grocery shop, fix some meals to put in the fridge for you, and act as my spy.”
“I suppose I have no choice in the matter.”
“You do not,” Sara said. “You could have been killed, Kerney.”
Kerney looked at his mangled wedding ring. Without a crevice toehold he might well have fallen eighty feet to his death. “Don’t be upset, Sara.”
“I am upset. Put Helen on. I’ll talk to you later.”
Because of the swelling and pain, Kerney’s hand was useless for the next several days. He got through the nuisance of it as best he could. Helen’s home-cooked meals in the fridge made caring for himself easier, but getting dressed in the morning remained a bit of a challenge.
On Thursday morning, he called Penelope Parker and told her the remains in the coffin were not those of George Spalding. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s alive,” Kerney cautioned. “Will you let Alice know?”
“I will, although I can’t promise that she’ll understand,” Parker said. “She’s already forgotten that Claudia has been arrested for Clifford’s murder, and she’s taken to calling me Debbie, which she’s never done before.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Kerney said.
“Perhaps if you came out and told her yourself,” Parker said wistfully, “it would sink in more readily.”
“I’ll have to leave that in your good hands, Ms. Parker,” Kerney said.
Ramona Pino stepped through the open door to his office with a pleased expression on her face. Kerney made his excuses to Parker and hung up.
“I’ve got news, Chief,” Ramona said. “The Canadian Customs and Revenue Agency reports that Edward Ramsey and Richard Chase have both received annual consulting fees of a hundred thousand dollars U.S. each from the High Plains Charitable Trust over the past fifteen years. The deposits were made to a bank in Toronto.”
“That’s a nice sum of money to put in your pocket. Has it been reported as earned foreign income on their tax returns?”
“Not according to the IRS agent I spoke with.”
Kerney smiled, “Good work, Sergeant. Any word on George or Debbie?”
“That’s not going well, Chief. The Calgary PD has stopped talking to me. It seems that the U.S. Army has stepped in and wants to keep the investigation all to themselves.”
“Let them have it,” Kerney said.
“You want me to drop it?”
“It’s a military matter that doesn’t concern us now.”
“Okay, Chief, but I hate to leave loose ends untied,” Ramona said.
“That’s one of the reasons you’re good at what you do,” Kerney replied with a laugh. “Give me a copy of your supplemental report on Ramsey and Chase as soon as it’s done.”
“It’s on your computer, Chief,” Ramona said as she waved from the office door.
Kerney pulled it up on his screen, read through it, and dialed the number of the resident FBI special agent.
“Would you be interested in a bribery case involving an FBI employee and a city police captain?” he asked.
“I always like a good bribery case,” the agent said. “Is the officer from your department?”
“Nope, Santa Barbara, California.”
“What kind of FBI employee?” the agent asked.
“A GS 12 who teaches at Quantico,” Kerney answered, “who also happens to be the retired chief of the Santa Barbara PD.”
“Intriguing. How big a bribe are we talking about here?”
“One point five million each, spread out over fifteen years.