Surest Poison, The (24 page)

“Yes. That was before I talked to Marie. He
wasn’t too happy about Bobby leaving, but I said we’d do our best to track
him down. Quincy plans to go by Rogers Toy Mart this morning.”

Sid realized he had forgotten to mention his trip
to the toy store last night. He told her what he had learned from the
manager.

“Give me that description of the customer again,”
Jaz said.

“A few inches shorter than me, light brown hair,
a wild-looking mustache that hung down on both sides like Hulk Hogan’s.”

Her voice ticked up a notch. “I saw a mechanic
who looked like that at Pete Rackard’s repair shop Friday night.”

Sid paused a moment, weighing the impact. “You
realize what it would mean if this is the same guy?”

“Yeah.
It would mean we’ve just turned our apple cart upside down again.”

“We’d be in limbo as to whether the target was
you or Bobby.”

“But we don’t know for sure if that mechanic is
our man. Have you had any more ideas on the meaning of that note we found?”

Sid pulled out his copy. “We need to think
outside the box. We know Rogers was not someone’s name.
How about Van?”

“Try van with a small V.”

“Hmm. Could
be
what he
drove out to your house.”

After a moment, Jaz said, “Let’s suppose the
notes were written during a phone call. Somebody says you can get the radio
controls at Rogers Toy Mart. Use the van. What’s the rest of it?”

“Sorry, but I make no claim to being
clairvoyant.”

“You’re great at deductive reasoning, though.
Work on it a bit and see what you come up with.”

“I’ll try.” He took his pencil and underlined the
items that still stumped them. Then a sudden thought hit him. “I know
something I can do about your mechanic sighting.”

“What?”

“I’ll take my little spy camera down to Franklin
and get a picture of him. I’ll show it to Mr. B. at Rogers Toy Mart and see
if we can get an ID.”

“Be careful. Better not let the Rackard folks
find out who you are. They’d throw you out in a heartbeat.”

“Don’t worry, I can handle that,” he said. “I’ll
head on out there and stop by your place on the way back.”

Nashville TV
forecasters earned their pay attempting to cope with the way conditions
changed from day to day, rain or sleet or snow, heat or cold, clouds or sun.
Sid didn’t remember it in the forecast, but a bright ball in the sky spread
its golden glow over Franklin, boosting the temperature to an almost summery
sixty-nine as he arrived at Rack’s Auto Repair. The overhead doors on the
side stood open, giving access to slots where cars and trucks sat with hoods
up, one on a jack minus its wheels. He parked his pickup near the open doors
and walked toward the shop area.

A large man with a beer belly and a limp came
from between two cars. His shirt had a patch with “Pete” embroidered on it.
From Jaz’s description, it had to be Rackard.

“What kind of problem you got?” he asked.

“I’d like somebody to check my battery,” Sid
said. “It’s been acting a little strange.”

Rackard pointed to an open space. “Pull it in
there. Somebody will be with you in a minute.”

Sid drove his truck inside and set the brake.
Before stepping down to the shop floor, he checked the small flat camera
mounted in a pocket inside his shirt, utilizing a design that left a small
hole for the lens to shoot through. He stood beside his truck and looked
around until he spotted the wild-looking mustache. The mechanic was working
on a sleek yellow Porsche.

Sid walked over to him. “That’s a sharp looking
car. What model is it?”

The mechanic turned, providing a full face view.
It also showed the name on his coveralls, Shak. Sid pressed the small
activator in his pocket. Since the camera’s shutter made no sound, Shak was
none the wiser.

“That little baby’s a 911,” the man said. “It’s
only a few months old. It’ll set you back around ninety-thou.”

Sid thought about asking what it would take to
blow it up. He smiled. “Nice car, but I think I’ll keep my truck.”

He triggered another exposure before strolling
back across to his pickup. He found another mechanic hooking the truck
battery to a large tester. After making a few adjustments, the
grease-smudged man looked up.

“This yours?”

Sid nodded.

“Ain’t
nothing
wrong
with the battery. What’s it been doing?”

“I’ve had some problems with the lights. I guess
it’s in the electrical system.”

“You’ll have to leave it with us.”

“Some other time.”
He glanced at his watch. “I need to get moving. What do I owe you?”

“No charge. You’d better call for an appointment,
though, before you bring it in for electrical work.”

Sid thanked him and climbed into the truck. He
backed out and headed for Jaz’s. Fifteen minutes later, she met him at the
front door looking relaxed in cutoff jeans.

“You’re getting with this unseasonable weather,”
he said, pointing at the shorts.

“I wear what’s comfortable. Marie doesn’t think
it’s ladylike.”

“Reminds me of Daisy May.”

She made a little curtsy. “Did you get a
picture?”

“Here’s our man,” he said, pulling out the small
digital camera and an adapter cord.

“Let’s go see what you have.”

She led him into her office, plugged the adapter
into her computer, and downloaded the photo. She zoomed to full screen.

“He’s the one I saw,” she said. “Doesn’t that
match Mr. B.’s description?”

“It does to me. Print it out, and I’ll see what
he says.”

Before the sheet rolled out of the printer, a
knock  sounded
at the open door.

“Don’t you folks know when it’s time to eat
lunch?” Marie asked. It was said more in disbelief than disapproval.

Sid glanced at his watch. “I guess you’re right.”

“I have a nice fruit salad and some bran muffins,
if that would do.”

Jaz gave him a questioning glance. “Okay for
you?”

“I don’t want to impose, but it sounds fine.”

“Impose? I never heard such talk.” Marie shook
her head.

Jaz took him by the arm. “He’ll eat. Come on,
Sid.”

Jaz insisted they eat in the kitchen and not mess
up the dining room. Marie objected but went on about her business. She
appeared accustomed to Jaz being adamant about her decisions. While they
were eating, Jaz asked him if he had heard anything new regarding Bart
Masterson’s homicide cases.

“When he called yesterday to ask about you, he
said he had checked out Larry Irwin’s phone calls the night of the murder.
One, which could have been the killer, was made from an el cheapo phone.”

“Untraceable.”

“Bart tracked it down to the store where it was
bought but reached a dead end there.”

When they finished lunch, Jaz went back to her
office and put the photo in an envelope. “Let me change into something a
little more decent, and I’ll go with you,” she said.

She was back a few minutes later dressed in
designer jeans and a white shirt with JLM embroidered above one breast.
Catching a hint of perfume that conjured up images of Arabian Nights, Sid
marveled at how she could make any outfit seem exotic.

Jaz patted the side of Sid’s well-worn truck
before climbing in. “Did you equate Rack’s with those poor folks around
Ashland City?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I thought this would make me look
more like a harmless old country boy. For sure Rack’s isn’t for poor folks.
This guy Shak was working on a fancy Porsche.” He slid in under the steering
wheel and looked around. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are
you?”

She gave him a sultry look.
“One of these days, maybe.
We’ll see.”

On their way to Nolensville Pike, Sid ticked off
what they had uncovered thus far and what they still needed to find.
Although confident all the major players had been identified, they weren’t
sure where each of them fitted in. They had nothing on the owners of First
Patriots, Ltd, and Tony Decker remained as elusive as ever, presuming he was
still alive.

“If it turns out that the mad bomber works for
Pete Rackard,” Jaz said, “do you think that means Rackard was more than just
an employee of Auto Parts Rehabbers?”

“He was into it in a big way. I still don’t
understand how these ex-cons got involved in the business.”

“Remember, Larry Irwin’s friend Reggie said he
thought it was run by a bunch of crooks, who may have been involved with
stolen property.”

“Yeah.
We need more evidence of that.”

“Has Percy Pickslay returned your call?”

“No, and I’m beginning to wonder if he will.”

“Would it be worth a trip to Centerville to look
for him?”

“That may be our only hope.”

When they arrived at Rogers Toy Mart, they found
Mr. B. helping a woman whose shopping basket was stacked with toddler toys.

“She must have triplets,” Jaz said.

“If that’s the case, I don’t envy her husband.”

They waited beside a row of shelves laden with
dolls, dollhouses,
doll
clothes. The make-believe
moppets had more accessories than a well-heeled teenager.

When the woman pushed her basket on past them,
Sid opened the envelope and approached the manager. He introduced Jaz.

“Nice meeting you, Miss LeMieux. A fire
investigator, had a funny name, came by here this morning asking about sales
of radio-controlled airplanes.
Same as you, Mr. Chance.”

“We worked with him on the case yesterday,” Sid
said. He pulled out the photo. “See if this looks like the man you told me
about.”

Mr. B. frowned as he studied the picture. “If
that’s not him, it’s his twin brother.”

38

IN the parking
lot, Sid called Investigator Quincy and told him the toy store manager’s
reaction to the photo.

“I was out at Rogers this morning,”
Quincy said. “I figured it was you when he told me somebody had already been
there asking the same questions. And Miss LeMieux recognized this Shak
fellow?”

“As soon as I mentioned the mustache
description, she remembered him.”

“You realize it’s still no more than
circumstantial. For all we know, Shak could be out flying his model airplane
right now. But it’s enough to warrant questioning him. I’ll need to check
his alibi for early yesterday morning.”

“We wondered if the Van on that piece of
paper could refer to a vehicle. You might see if he owns or has access to a
van.”

“I think I’d better talk to the two of
you first and get all the details on this threat Miss LeMieux mentioned.”

“We’re at your disposal.”

“I have a case I’m finishing up. Can we
make it in the morning?”

“Where and when?”

“Why don’t we meet at her house at
ten.
I can head out to Williamson County after
that.”

Sid flipped the phone shut and turned to
Jaz.
“Your house at ten in the morning.
Okay by
you?”

“It had better be. Looks like you’ve
already made the arrangements.”

He knew it ran counter to her stay in
control principle, but as long as she was playing in his league, she’d have
to play by his rules.

As they headed toward Franklin Road,
Arnie Bailey called. He sounded fired up. “I just heard from Wade
Harrington,” he snapped.

Sid held his breath. He hoped it was not
another demonstration. “What’s happened?”

“He had a copy of the Ashland City paper
with a long story about the trichloroethylene situation. He said there was a
side article asking anyone with information about Auto Parts Rehabbers to
call you. Have you heard anything yet?”

“You’re the first caller. I’m glad the
story’s out, but I’m not too encouraged about the prospects of learning
anything new as a result of it.”

“What were you able to track down from
that post office box?”

“We got the name of a disbarred lawyer
who opened it.”

“Who’s that?”

“Percy Pickslay.”

“Might have known.
Deals like that are what got him into trouble. He’s a moneygrubber. He’s out
chasing jurors rather than ambulances these days.”

“So I heard, but I haven’t been able to
get in touch with him yet.”