Beneath the Cracks (35 page)

Demetrius paused and pointed to the light
hanging from the roof of the building that made the alley
blind.  "What if he saw me?  I mean, like got a good look
'cause of that light?"

"Did he turn toward you?"

Nod.  "And he kinda pressed his finger
over his lips and says in this freaking whisper,
shhhhh
.  So it's like he's whispering it right in my
ear, you know?  And I totally flipped out.  He walks off
like nothing weird just happened, all slow and like nobody dared
give him shit."

"You went inside the restaurant and told
your dad you saw a dead body in the dumpster."

"I couldn't just leave that poor guy like
that.  What if nobody saw him and he started stinking the
place up?  Pops wouldn't have any customers if that
happened."

"Tell me what you remember about the man,
Demetrius.  You said he was tall.  What else?  What
was he wearing?"

He shrugged.  "It was dark.  Like
black clothes.  I remember thinking that it stuck out, you
know, the black clothes and his white head."

"So he was Caucasian."

"Well, yeah, but the guy's head was
white.  Like bald and not tan."

"You're certain it wasn't just blond
hair?"  My heart accelerated.  "This is very important,
Demetrius.  What made you think he was bald?"

"It was like all shiny and stuff when he
went around the corner onto the street."

I pulled out my cell phone.  "I'll talk
to your father, Demetrius."

"About the weed?"

"About why I need to put you and your entire
family into a safe house until I catch the man who did this."

"Aw, really?  Pops is gonna freak if he
can't be at the restaurant every day."

"Believe me, when we catch this guy, every
cop in the city will be coming to Kostas to eat.  Your dad
will make up for a few days in no time at all."

"Seriously?"

I nodded and dialed Darnell's number.

"Chris Darnell."

"It's Helen.  I'm not sure if you've
heard the news."

"Another vic in Downey.  Finkelstein
just called me."

I turned my back to Demetrius.  "I've
got a witness, Chris.  I'd like to keep this one alive."

"Tell me what you need."

"A safe house guarded with guys from OSI who
are aware that they lost one of their own would be my
preference."

"Are we really ready to take that
information public?  I realize it was in the paper in a
generic sort of blurb," Chris said, "but if these guys find out it
was Jake who was undercover in the same area our latest victim was
found, it's not going to take long before they put the whole thing
together, Helen."

Considering the propensity for gossip in law
enforcement in Darkwater Bay, it was a valid concern.  "Could
they possibly be discreet for once in their lives?"

"I'll be stern," Darnell said.  "Give
me the address and I'll send over a unit to pick them up."

He paused for the briefest moment. 
"Helen, I just heard about Maya Winslow tonight."

Speaking of gossip.

"Why didn't she say something to us Saturday
night at dinner?"

"She didn't know, Chris.  And she
didn't want people to find out the way they have either.  I'm
surprised Johnny didn't tell you about what happened to her before
he left town."

"And I wasn't aware he knew," Chris
said.

So Orion had kept one confidence.  One
hard earned point in the pro column.  "I asked him not to say
anything.  I wasn't sure he assumed that applied to you
too."

"I'm going to drop by the hospital and see
her in the morning after Mass.  I hope she doesn't mind. 
People care about her, Helen.  She's done a lot of good in a
very short time for this county."

"Before you hang up, do you have any idea if
Johnny wrapped up his other thing tonight?"

"I wouldn't know, honestly.  He's so
tight lipped about what he's working on right now, I'm not even
sure where he is.  I haven't spoken to him since Thursday
morning when he left a standing order to assist you and Downey
Division with anything you might need on this case."

"What I'd really like is a search warrant
for Tom Denton's lab at Dupree Farm.  What are my odds?"

"Have you got anything that links his murder
to the farm or the other murders?"

"Not yet, but we're working on it."

"Call me when you think you've got one," he
said.  "Even if it's tenuous, I can probably get you a walk
through warrant at minimum.  I might be able to swing that
based on his murder and status as a protected witness.  In
fact, I could probably call Judge Hathaway right now and argue that
since he was killed before he could make a statement regarding
Jake's death, there could be exigent circumstances."

"I doubt anyone is in eminent danger,
Chris."

"No, but if they're willing to kill a
research scientist to make sure he won't talk, who knows what kind
of evidence they might be destroying."

"Get the safe house set up first and call me
back if you decide to seek the warrant.  We'll keep working
this end trying to get a stronger link between these murders. 
I'll call you if we find anything that would be more compelling to
this judge you mentioned.  In the meantime, we'll sit tight
with the Kostas family until your men get here."

Demetrius was right about his father's
reaction to going into protective custody with OSI.

"I move thousands of miles and hear nothing
but empty promise from Mrs. Kostas that Demetrius grow up safer
here.  This is not dangerous place like New York."

"Mr. Kostas, I promise you, things will be
better in this neighborhood when we arrest the people responsible
for these crimes," I said.  "I know this is inconvenient, but
we must protect you now."

"And who protects my restaurant?  Who
makes bank payment when I have no money because of this safe house?
What –"

The thunderous sound of full throttle
Harleys drowned out the rest of whatever Kostas said.  Dozens
of bikes sped past the restaurant, drivers and passengers hooting
and screaming obscenities over the roaring engines. 

"Go home, you fuckin' Guido!" one at the
tail end of the crew yelled.

Kostas lost his temper and shook his fist at
the bikers.  "We are Greek, you filthy bastards!"

"Mr. Kostas, please don't antagonize
them."

"They antagonize
me
."

Crevan shook his head and guided the father
and son back inside the restaurant to wait for Darnell's
troops.

Chapter 31

My cell rang after CSD took custody of the
crime scene and the Kostas family was put into the care of
OSI.  We were about to make our way to Downey Division via
Third Avenue to pick up my car.

"Eriksson."

"You must be getting really close to these
guys, Helen."

"Evidently they think so.  Do I dare
ask how this latest development found its way through the hallowed
halls of MSUH?"

Maya chuckled, followed by a gut wrenching
moan.  "Oh, don't make me laugh.  I think I've overdone a
bit today.  And for the record, Billy called to see if it was
acceptable to send his partner in body retrieval to the latest
murder scene."

"Dump site," I corrected.  "We don't
know where they were murdered yet.  Why can't Billy do
it?"

"He's been working overtime processing
gastric contents."

My stomach twisted at the mere
thought.  "And?"

"I want to know if you can join him at my
bedside for some preliminary results."

"Why can't he call me?"

"Apparently, he thinks that I must bless the
pages before the words can be uttered.  Billy's been doing
this job since before God was a child, Helen, but I think Riley
Storm sucked any self-confidence out of just about everyone he ever
hired, including Billy.  Much as I'd love to think this is an
elaborate excuse Billy's devised so he can come eyeball me in
person and make sure I'm not leaning to the heavy side, I doubt
that's the case."

"Then I guess we'll head over to MSUH after
Crevan and Tony drop me off at my car."

"Do I want to know where your car is, or are
the rumors true?"

"Those rotten fiends."

"He's on his way over in twenty, so if you
can get here, it'll save me a little energy not to have to go
through the results twice."

"Screw my car.  We'll be right
over."

Briscoe's bushy eyebrows danced.  "And
what pray tell is the next dire emergency?"

"Billy Withers has the preliminary
toxicology on Denton.  He's headed over to MSUH, and
..."  Sound died in my throat.

"Yeah, we heard," Briscoe remarked without
the characteristic commentary.  "From the desk sergeant."

"She's tired, and would appreciate it if we
could be there with Billy so she only has to go over the results
once."

Conall took the driver's seat this time,
which did not bode well for a timely arrival in my
experience.  He surprised me when he flipped on the lights and
sirens and took off screaming through the streets toward MSUH.

When we arrived, Billy Withers was punching
the button to call the elevator and bouncing on his
heels. 

"Too much caffeine, son?  Or do you
really gotta pee?"  Briscoe stepped past him when the doors
slid open. 

Billy clutched a manila file folder to his
chest.  His fingers left indentations from the death
grip.  "Maya needs to see these results.  I assume that's
why you're here."

"She called us a few minutes ago and said
she wanted us to come.  I'm warning all three of you; go easy
on her.  This has been a horrible week, and she's already
pushed herself too hard today."

My warning bounced off Billy like rubber
arrows off steel armor.  Briscoe and Conall stared at the
floor.

I was appalled when we walked into Maya's
room.  She was propped up in the bed with a vast number of
pillows supporting her.  In the few hours since I'd seen her
last, cheeks had become sunken, circles deepened and spread out
from beneath eyes which had lost all luster. 

"We should do this tomorrow," I said. 
"Maya, you need your rest."

"Nonsense.  The nurse will be back in a
few minutes with some fentanyl and I'll be good as new."  The
smile did little to mask her pain and fatigue.  "Now let me
see this toxicology report, Billy."

Finally, something had sucked the bounce out
of his tail.  Solemnly, he handed the file over to her. 
"Maybe Helen's right, Maya.  You look like you need sleep more
than we need your interpretation –"

"Are you telling me that you don't
need
me anymore, Billy?"

The rational part of my brain understood
Maya's poor attempt at humor, but given the current circumstances,
it fell flat.  "Of course we need you.  This is why you
should be resting."

"It's cyanide," weary eyes scanned the page,
a grim determination shrouding her all of a sudden as she ignored
my advice.  "Hydrogen cyanide to be specific."

"Did you see the rest?  It can't be
right, can it, Maya?"

Her anemic lips slanted southward.  "It
is right, but it can't be."

"What is it and why can't it be
right?"  Briscoe's patience was beginning to fray, and on his
best good day he had very little tolerance for scientific
jargon. 

I hoped he'd rein it in for Maya's sake.

"It's a distinctive finding, Tony. 
Naturally occurring cyanide is comprised of glucosides, in this
case, lotaustralin and linamarin.  They're broken down by an
enzyme called linamarase.  Let me clarify.  This specific
naturally occurring cyanide contains the aforementioned cyanogenic
glucosides."

"Think sugars," I said.  Briscoe's neck
was half red already.  "Poisonous sugars, and the thing that
digests those sugars and releases the poison is an enzyme."

"All right."  The crimson abated to
below his collar.  "And you know Denton was poisoned with this
natural cyanide how exactly, and does it mean this was some sorta
freak accident?"

"There was nothing accidental about it, I'm
positive."  She flipped more pages.  "Billy identified
enough undigested cassava root to do the job pretty quick."

"Cuh-whatsits?"

"Cassava root.  And that's precisely
the part that makes no sense."  Maya focused on Billy. 
"Theorize for me how this is possible."

"People have always said that anything would
grow in Darkwater Bay's soil."

"Bullshit," Maya's voice might've been weak,
but the passion of her profession bolstered it.  "Cassava is a
tropical or subtropical plant.  It's too damned cold, not to
mention too wet for it to thrive here.  Cassava's toxicity
increases under drought conditions, Billy.  Someone would've
had to import this. Which would be extremely difficult – cassava
root doesn't exactly stay fresh for long unless it's already
processed.  What you found was fresh."

"Or ..."

Keep going, Billy.  Or
what? 
I waited expectantly.

"Well?" Maya prompted impatiently.  "I
haven't got all night, Billy."

"I guess it could be nurtured under the
right circumstances in a greenhouse.  Artificial lighting,
temperature, lack of abundant water."

"You're sayin' that this cyanide plant was
grown on a
farm
?"

"Possibly, Tony.  I'm more curious
about what cassava is," Crevan said.  "I've never heard of it
before."

A tiny twinkle glimmered in Maya's
eyes.  "Sure you have.  I'd bet your partner here five
hundred bucks that both of you have willingly eaten a product that
comes from cassava roots, probably eaten it many times."

"The hell we have!  If you weren't –"
Briscoe clamped his mouth shut.