On Deadly Ground (20 page)
Books left BLM headquarters and drove the short distance to the Ranch Inn & Café. He had almost an hour to kill before meeting Roberta Weekly, a supervisor in the Kane County Administrative Services Department. Sutter had arranged for her to meet him to pick up Brian Call's monthly cell phone records.
Books scanned the restaurant as he took his customary seat at the counter. Trees McClain was seated in a corner booth with a guy Books didn't know. If McClain saw him enter the restaurant, he didn't acknowledge it.
Rusty Steed walked over and dropped a menu in front of him. “Get you something to drink, J.D.?”
“Iced tea.”
Steed nodded and shuffled off.
When he returned with the iced tea, Steed said, “Any word on George Gadasky?”
Books nodded. “Bad news, I'm afraid, Rusty. Search and Rescue found his body early this morning near Grosvenor Arch. He'd been shot in the head.”
“What?” Steed was obviously shocked.
“Looks like somebody killed him at close range with a small caliber handgun.”
“Jesus, J.D. What's going on in this town?”
“Wish I knew, Rusty. There is something you can do to help, though.
“Name it.”
“You're in a place that gets a lot of traffic. I'd appreciate a call if you see or hear anything or anyone who seems unusual or suspicious,”
“Funny you should mention that. There was a fella in here not more than two hours ago. He seemed unusually interested in any information about the Gadasky brothers.”
“Had you ever seen him before?”
“Nope.”
“Did he claim to be a newspaper reporter from Las Vegas?”
“No, said he was a tourist here visiting the parks. He was driving a white Ford Explorer with Nevada plates.”
“How do you know that?”
“Watched him drive away.”
Books left the restaurant with a description of the inquisitive stranger as well as the SUV he was driving. Could this be the same man who was hunting Ronnie Gadasky and who had killed his brother, George? It was a long shot, but definitely worth looking into.
***
Books hadn't seen Roberta Weekly since he'd left Kanab more than a dozen years ago. She had been a teacher's aide at Kanab Elementary when Books was in the fourth grade, patiently tutoring him in an attempt to bring his below-average reading skills up to grade level.
She and Books chatted amicably, mostly about family, while she manually searched through a large, shoulder-high filing cabinet. She removed a thick file folder.
“How far back would like me to go?”
“How far back do your records go?”
“We archive records annually, so I should have everything since January 1of this year.”
“In that case, I'll take everything you've got.”
Weekly disappeared with the file and returned minutes later with copies of Brian Call's cell phone records for 2009. “Sorry, J.D., I don't have the August statements yet, but this is everything else.” She didn't ask why he wanted the records and he didn't offer an explanation.
Books thanked her and left. Minutes later, he was back in his office perusing the records for Las Vegas calls. He moved sequentially, month by month, starting with January. He found nothing from January through April. He was beginning to believe he was chasing his own tail; however, when he reached mid-May, Las Vegas numbers began to appear. At first, they were infrequent, but as he moved through the June and July statements the frequency increased. Some were sent calls and others were calls he'd received. In the end, Books came away with four different Las Vegas numbers. He needed to find out who they belonged to.
He dialed the first number. It was no longer in service. The second number was answered by a pleasant sounding female who said, “Arcadia Outcall Massage. How may I help you?” Books hung up. The third number was a recorded message, “You have reached the offices of Nevada Mining & Manufacturing. We are currently closed. Our office hours are⦔ The fourth number, the one with the most sent and received calls also went into voicemail. The message said, “This is Michael. Please leave a message.” Again, Books disconnected.
Could Michael be Michael Calenti from Nevada Mining and Manufacturing? Was Arcadia Outcall Massage part of the prostitution enterprise allegedly run by Calenti? Books wondered. The information from the Las Vegas numbers added to his suspicion that Call was mixed up with some shady and possibly dangerous peopleâpeople who would have the motive and means to have killed David Greenbriar.
Books called Charley Sutter with the news about Brian Call as well as the information he had received from Rusty Steed. Sutter and Call were still at Grosvenor Arch where a CSI team and the medical examiner were combing the crime scene.
“I'm so disappointed to hear that I can hardly stand it,” said Sutter. “It makes me sick to my stomach to think somebody on my own staff, somebody in a position of trust, would involve himself in something like this. I still want to believe you're wrong, Books, but it's getting harder and harder to do that. What do you wanna do next?”
“A couple of things. We need to sit down with Call right away and challenge him the same way we did Neil Eddins. If Call is mixed up in a murder-for-hire scheme, we've got to find out what's going on and right away. If I'm right, we've got a killer loose in this community who won't hesitate to kill again.”
“All right,” said Sutter. “See if you can get hold of Virgil Bell. I'd like to have him involved in Call's interrogation.”
“I'll do it. Also, I'll see if we can do the interview at the DA's office. We need to get Call out of his comfort zone.”
“That makes sense. What's the second thing?”
“I'll get a BOLO out on the Ford Explorer Rusty Steed told me about. And I think if anybody spots it, they should follow, but not initiate a stop without backup. Whoever this is, I don't think he'd hesitate to kill a lone officer in a traffic stop.”
“Right,” said Sutter. “Tell the dispatch supervisor to be sure to notify the Highway Patrol, state Game & Fish, and the National Park Service. I don't want anyone caught unaware.”
“Will do.”
The BOLO went out for a white late-model Ford Explorer with Nevada license plates. Books enlisted the help of the Kanab City police to search every restaurant and motel parking lot in town. If the killer was someone from out of the area, as Books suspected, he had to be staying someplace. Books was to be notified immediately if the vehicle was discovered.
Books dialed Grant Weatherby's cell number in Las Vegas. He told Weatherby about George Gadasky's murder and the apparent connection between Brian Call and Nevada Mining & Manufacturing.
“Well, this has been an interesting case from the start, and it gets more interesting all the time. That said, how can we help you from this end?”
“I need a couple of things, Grant.”
“You're about to ruin the rest of my Sunday, aren't you?”
“Probably. Would you see what you can find out about a company called Arcadia Outcall Massage? Brian Call dialed their number several times in recent months. Could that business be part of Michael Calenti's prostitution operation?”
“We'll find out. What else?”
“I'd like you to check a phone number for me,” said Books. “When I dialed the number, somebody named Michael had recorded the greeting. I'd like to know whether the Michael on the recording is actually Michael Calenti.”
“I can do that, and it shouldn't take long. Give me the number.”
***
Books called District Attorney Virgil Bell at home. Bell was astounded when Books told him about the murder of George Gadasky and the possible involvement of Brian Call in a murder for hire scheme.
Bell sounded worried. “This puts things in a whole different perspective. You realize you're going to be walking a tightrope when you interrogate Call.”
“Why's that?”
“In a nutshell, I don't see any proof that Brian Call has committed a crime. Yeah, he apparently has associations from his Las Vegas days with some criminal types. And yes, those same criminal associates hold mineral rights in the Kaiparowits Plateau. Could be a coincidence though, couldn't it?”
“Possible, I guess,” replied Books, “but it doesn't seem likely.”
“Based on what you said, you don't have any evidence directly linking this Las Vegas Corporation to the murder of David Greenbriar or George Gadasky. The evidence against Lance Clayburn still remains uncontroverted.”
Bell was right. “We at least have the makings of a circumstantial case, don't you think?”
“Yeah, but you're still gonna need more to sustain any kind of prosecution. You either need Brian Call's help, or you need to catch the mysterious character you think killed George Gadasky. Without that, you don't have much.”
Bell agreed to participate in the interrogation of Brian Call. Books promised to call him as soon as Sutter and Call returned to Kanab.
After his phone call to Rebecca Eddins, Deluca returned to his motel room in Mt. Carmel. He was surprised that searchers had discovered George Gadasky's body so quickly. He needed the extra time, and now he didn't have it. News of the second murder would heighten community anxiety and put everybody on high alertâespecially the cops. He needed to lay low until after dark.
Deluca sat at a small table next to the bed studying the information Calenti had given him about the local contact, Brian Call. He had Call's home address and cell phone number. It sounded like the stupid-assed cop had gotten himself mixed up with Victor and Michael Calenti without having any idea just how ruthless they could be. Then he made the mistake of threatening to expose the entire operation because Deluca had found it necessary to eliminate George Gadasky.
Deluca considered Call, like Gadasky, little more than collateral damage, with one major exceptionâCall was a police officer, and killing cops, even deserving ones, always brought unrelenting heat from other cops. These cases always remained perpetually active, never going into cold-case files like other unsolved homicides. Only once in his thirty-year career had Deluca killed a police officer, and he'd sworn to himself never to do it again.
Deluca carefully considered what story he could concoct that would convince Brian Call that a face-to-face meeting was imperative. He decided to schedule the meeting in the city park at 11:00 p.m. The park was isolated and poorly lit. By eleven o'clock, it would be completely dark and likely empty.
Deluca dialed Call's cell number. It rang several times and then kicked into voicemail. He waited ten minutes and dialed again.
This time he answered on the first ring. “Call.”
“Deputy Call. This is Arthur Tate. I work for Victor and Michael Calenti.”
“Hold on,” said Call. The line was so full of static that it was hard to hear anything. Deluca figured he must still be out in the middle of bumfuck where searchers had discovered George Gadasky's body.
Call came back on the line. “Listen, Mr. Tate, or whoever the hell you are, what the fuck do you think you're doing? This wasn't part of the deal. You think you can just come in here and kill anydamnbody you please? Well, you can't. It doesn't work like that around here.”
Call sounded like he was whispering. With that and the static on the line, Deluca could barely hear him. “Listen to me carefully, Brian. I think we may have come up with a way out of this mess that doesn't involve harming Ronnie Gadasky,” he lied, “but we can't discuss it on the phone. For this plan to work, I may need your help with something. We need to meet.”
“Look, asshole, we don't need to meet. You just need to get your sorry ass out of town, and right now.”
“Sorry, but I'm afraid I can't do that until this situation gets resolved. I suppose I don't need to remind you that if this mess blows up in our faces, you're going down right along with everybody else. So it's very important that we all keep our cool until we get over this little bump in the road.”
“That's what you call this, a little bump in the road!”
“Hey, friend, I'm just doin' my job same as you. All I can tell you is we need to hang together a little longer, and then we can put this nasty business behind us. And if that's not enough, I've got a little present for you, courtesy of Michael. He sent it up this afternoon.”
That piqued Call's interest. “Yeah, what is it?”
“An envelope full of cash and a plastic sandwich baggie stuffed with what Michael tells me is your favorite recreational drug, OxyContin. Michael wanted me to convey his apologies, and he hopes you'll accept this small token of his appreciation for the extra trouble.”
The promise of cash and drugs seemed to tip the balance with Call in favor of the face-to-face rendezvous. They agreed to meet in the city park at eleven o'clock on the tennis courts.
After the call, Deluca settled on the bed for an afternoon nap. The night ahead promised to be a long one. As for Brian Call, Deluca remained wary. A junkie cop with addictions to hookers, money, and pills hardly inspired confidence.
With luck, he would end it all tonight.
***
Books was about five miles north of town when he received the call from dispatch. He was on his way to check the mom-and-pop motels in a string of small towns between Kanab and Panguitch. Unless he was chasing his tail, and he might be, the missing Ford Explorer had to be hidden somewhere nearby and with it, a possible double murderer. The dispatcher told him to meet a Kanab City police officer at the Angel Canyon Motel on the north end of town. The officer had discovered information about the missing Explorer.
When Books arrived, he spotted the marked cruiser parked under the portico next to the motel office. A Kanab patrol sergeant stood next to the cruiser talking to a young man who appeared to be no more than nineteen or twenty. Books introduced himself to Sergeant Dave Curry. Curry, in turn, introduced Books to the young man standing next to him. Jimmy Johnson was a Brigham Young University college student who had returned home for the summer recess to help his parents run the motel.
“J.D., Jimmy here says he had a guest for the past couple of nights who was driving a white Ford Explorer,” said Curry.
“Really. Was it a new rig?”
Johnson shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I'd say it was pretty new, '08 or '09 model.”
“Did you happen to get the license plate number?”
“Sure did.” Johnson handed Books a slip of paper with a Nevada license plate number written on it.
Books turned to the sergeant. “Dave, could you run me a registration check on this plate number and get out a new BOLO?”
“Sure.” Curry took the slip of paper from Books and climbed into his patrol car.
Books turned back to Johnson. “The room this guy was staying in. Has it been cleaned?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. We didn't knowâ¦â¦”
“That's okay. Can you describe this guy for me, Jimmy?”
“Yeah, he was an old guy, maybe late 50s. I remember him cuz he had a really bad pock-marked face. His hair was almost white and slicked back on the sides. It looked shiny like he'd used too much hair gel.”
“What about his height, weight, and race?”
“He was a white guy, tall, maybe six-three or four, probablyâ¦I don't know, two-ten, two-twenty. He was a big guy really, in pretty good shape too, especially for an old fella.”
“Anything else you can remember about himâtattoos, scars, anything like that?”
Johnson shook his head, “Naw, not that I remember.”
“When did he check out?”
“Early this morning. I'd just come on shift.”
“Did he mention anything to you about where he was from or what he was doing here?”
Again, Johnson shook his head. “No. He was friendly enough but he didn't mention any of that kind of stuff.”
“Did he fill out a room registration card?”
“Yeah, he did. Want me to get it for you.”
“Please. What name did he register under, do you recall?”
“Tate. Arnold or Arthur Tate, something like that,” said Johnson.
Books followed him into the lobby of the motel. Johnson walked behind the front desk and began to manually search a small metal box holding alphabetized registration cards.
“Let me stop you right there. Did Mr. Tate actually handle the card?”
“Sure did. I handed it to him. He filled it out, signed it, and gave it back.”
“Did anybody besides you handle the card?”
Johnson paused. “I don't think so, but I can't be sure. I checked him in the other evening when he arrived, and I checked him out this morning.”
“Hold on a minute and don't touch the registration card.” Books walked outside and approached the squad car.
Curry handed Books a Post-it note with the registration information. “The Explorer is a 2009 registered to Avis Rent-a-Car at the Las Vegas International Airport. It was rented to some guy named Arthur Tate. He produced a Nevada driver's license with an address at an apartment complex in North Las Vegas.”
“Interesting. That's the same name he used to register here at the motel.”
Books handed Curry a slip of paper. “Here's the physical description Jimmy gave me of the subject driving the Explorer.”
“Great. I'll pass this information along to dispatch and we'll get a new BOLO out to the troops. You think the guy's split?”
“Either that or he's taken up residence somewhere else.”
“Well, we'll keep looking for him,”
Books thanked him and Curry left.
Books had an idea that might finally reveal the suspect's identity. He would ask a fingerprint examiner to process the registration card for latents. If prints were found, they would be submitted to IAFIS, the FBI's Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. If the suspect had a criminal history or had ever served in the military, his fingerprints should be in the system. Best of all, the entire process could be completed in just a few hours.
***
Books placed the guest registration card in a plastic evidence bag, careful not to contaminate the document with his own prints. Jimmy Johnson accompanied him to the sheriff's office where a set of his fingerprints were taken for comparison purposes.
On the drive back to the motel, Books received a phone call from the sheriff. Sutter told him that he and Call were on their way back to Kanab. George Gadasky's body had been turned over to the medical examiner, and everyone had cleared the crime scene.
Books informed Sutter about what had occurred at the Angel Canyon Motel. Books arranged to meet the fingerprint examiner from the CSI unit at the sheriff's office where he would turn over the registration card for processing.
The logistics of getting Brian Call to the DA's office without arousing his suspicion had turned out to be easy. As they prepared to leave Grosvenor Arch, Sutter told him they were expected at the DA's office for a conference with Virgil Bell. Sutter told him Bell wanted to discuss the murder of George Gadasky and its impact on the case against Lance Clayburn.
The interrogation was set.