Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [69]
Still, Ramona hadn’t bought it. Was the grass really Lacy’s, or was it all a big lie on Griffin’s part? Until they found Lacy and talked to him, that question remained unanswered.
Through her open office door, Ramona could hear her team at work. All of them were well into their second shifts, clacking away at keyboards, talking quietly on phones, stapling reports and shuffling papers, compiling information. Before she turned out the lights and called it a day, she would screen every bit of it.
Two narcotics officers, with the assistance of a member of the Tri-County Drug Enforcement Task Force, were working to verify the identities of the users, dealers, and suppliers Griffin had named. Detective Matt Chacon was on the horn calling around to learn more about Greg Lacy’s personal life, business dealings, employees, and friends. Other team members were working up evidence sheets, doing field reports, writing narratives.
Her phone rang and she picked up.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to arrest Griffin on harboring a fugitive charges?” Barry Foyt asked, his voice sputtering with anger.
“Did you really want to let him completely off the hook?” Ramona replied calmly.
“You blindsided me.”
“No, I upheld my sworn duty,” Ramona said.
“Don’t give me that technical bullshit. You were there when I struck the deal with Delgado.”
“Nothing pertaining to dropping any future charges was agreed to, as I recall.”
“I can recommend to the DA that we decline to prosecute.”
“I’m sure Delgado and Griffin would appreciate that,” Ramona said, trying to bite back on the heavy sarcasm without success. “Is there anything else you wish to say to me?”
“Griffin made bail thirty minutes ago.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
Foyt grunted in reply and disconnected.
The phone in Ramona’s hand brought to mind Ellie Lowrey. Earlier, she had left Lowrey a brief voice mail message summarizing the events of the day, particularly the news that Claudia Spalding might have tried to mastermind her husband’s murder with another lover long before Kim Dean took up the gauntlet and actually did it. Surely, that should have sparked Ellie’s interest enough to return her call.
She shrugged Lowrey off for the moment, put the phone down, and turned her attention back to matters at hand, only to be interrupted by Matt Chacon, who swooped into the office waving a piece of paper.
“This came in from Lacy’s credit card company,” he said as he settled into the straight-back office chair. “In the last four years, he’s taken five international trips, one to Haiti, two to Amsterdam, and two to Bangkok, all sex tourist destinations.”
Ramona looked at the faxed report. “Okay, so he likes whores. What else have you learned about him?”
“He’s a bachelor with no current girlfriend,” Matt replied. “Like Griffin, he lives alone and runs his business out of his house. Hires mostly locals and a few Mexicans, pays them decent wages, and has a good credit rating. He has several close friends, but according to Lacy’s foreman, Griffin isn’t one of them. Their relationship is strictly business.”
“No wants or warrants?”
Chacon shook his head. “He’s got a clean sheet, a good reputation with other contractors who use him, and requires all his employees to undergo periodic drug screening. I think Griffin made a bogus accusation.”
“What kind of vehicles does Lacy own?” Ramona asked.
“Just one, according to motor vehicles: a late model, midsize, four-wheel-drive pickup truck.”
Ramona pushed back her chair and stood. “Let’s go.”
“Where to?” Matt asked.
“Griffin lied. The toolbox that held the grass fits a full-size truck bed. He just made bail on the harboring charge. We’ve got to find him before he runs.”
To keep himself informed of activities in the field, Kerney often listened to radio traffic while working. He was in his office about to call Alice Spalding and Penelope Parker when a be-on-the-lookout advisory for Mitch Griffin went out, followed