Not One Clue_ A Mystery Part 19

"h.e.l.l, that alone makes her suspect."

"I'm glad to see this is a scientific system."

"You know it," I said, and turned back toward the paper. "Who else do we have?"

She pointed out three others with whom she felt skittish. Out of more than two hundred people, that didn't seem like a staggering number.

"What now?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'll find out what I can about them."

"Promise you won't do anything stupid."

"I'm insulted."

"I mean it, Mac, promise."

"Of course I promise."

"You won't call any gangsters, will you?"

"If you're referring to D, he prefers to be called a collection engineer." Dagwood Dean Daly lived in a high-rise on the Gold Coast in Chicago and had some kind of odd crush on me. In fact, he had once challenged Rivera to a duel, winner take me me.

I had left the two of them bloodied and stupid outside the Mandarin Hotel. Oddly enough, I hadn't seen D since. I couldn't say the same of Rivera, though he had had looked a little chagrined when he'd finally showed up at my door, scabs healing. looked a little chagrined when he'd finally showed up at my door, scabs healing.

"I don't think any collection engineers will be necessary for this," I said, and scowled. "I thought I'd just ask some questions."

"Okay," Laney said, obviously dubious, "but let's not get anyone in trouble."

I glanced once more at the letters spread across her perfectly made bed. "I think someone's already troubled," I said.

"Christina McMullen." Officer Tavis answered on the third ring. He must have caller ID at the station in Edmond Park. He also had a very nice voice.

"Are you busy?" I asked.

"Absolutely," he said. "We've had two jaywalkers and a prank call."

"Just this morning."

"This isn't L.A," he said. "I'm talking all week."

"Well, I'd better let you get to interrogating them. Maybe you can call me back when you're not so frazzled."

"No hurry," he said. "Our thumbscrews won't be here until tomorrow. We share them with the next county."

"And they're being used right now?"

"They've had a problem with littering."

I huffed a laugh, then, "I have a question for you," I said.

"It's-"

"I don't care what color your underwear is," I said, and he chuckled as he settled in.

"What can I do for you?"

"Last week you said something about a drug called Intensity."

"It's just a theory."

"What are the effects?"

"That's the thing, the kids who died didn't seem to have any symptoms in common."

"What do you mean?"

"Jerome, the boy, was happy and well adjusted. Didn't seem to have a care in the world. At least according to friends and family."

"Would friends and family tell the truth?"

"Hard to say. The girl's behavior was entirely different. Aggressive and loud. What's up?"

"I have a ... acquaintance who's been getting some funny mail."

"Funny ha-ha or funny-"

"Funny disturbing. I'm wondering if they might be drug related, but there are no restricted substances allowed on ... my friend's workplace."

"Drugs aren't exactly welcomed into the public school system, either, Chrissy. But I can't think of another excuse for the blue haze in the bathrooms."

"I think my friend's ... manager ... actually insists on blood tests," I said.

"Uh-huh."

"You think traces of Intensity wouldn't show up in the reports?"

"Nothing's been flagged so far. And we're not the only county in California that's losing kids."

"Any idea where the drug came from?"

"Are you asking for my hypothesis?"

"Why not?"

"I think it's an offshoot of meth. Cheap to make, but without the usual side effects."

"Except for death, of course."

"Except for that one."

I asked a few more questions, but learned nothing concrete.

"Thank you," I said, and prepared to hang up, but he stopped me.

"What's it worth to you?"

"What's that?"

"The information I gave you is rather sensitive."

"Really?"

"No. But I think it's worth something."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Seriously?"

"I'm not going to have s.e.x with you."

"How about some heavy petting?"

"Why haven't you been fired yet?"

"Because I'm a nice guy."

"To whom?"

He chuckled. "Necking?" he asked.

"No."

"Can you talk dirty to-" he began, but I was already hanging up.

A few hours later, still alone in my office in Eagle Rock, I gazed morosely at the list of people employed on the Queen Queen set. Generally, when I need to know something that can be found on the Internet, I call Solberg. And although Laney had finally told him about the letters, she was downplaying their significance and set. Generally, when I need to know something that can be found on the Internet, I call Solberg. And although Laney had finally told him about the letters, she was downplaying their significance and I I wasn't going to be the one to tell him the truth. wasn't going to be the one to tell him the truth.

"Lieutenant Rivera." He answered his phone like Robocop on steroids. It made me rather desperately want to mock him, but I resisted. Such is the way of maturity.

"Ph.D. McMullen," I said. Okay, maybe I was mocking him a little.

"What?" he said, and I immediately felt stupid. Go figure.

"This is Christina," I said.

I heard his chair squeak as he sat down.

"Being a smart-a.s.s?" he asked.

"Let's keep in mind that I'm very brave," I said, and could almost hear him relax on the other end of the line.

"Has someone threatened your life yet today?" he asked.

I resisted glancing toward the door. "It's still early."

"Most crimes occur during daylight hours."

Now I did glance. "Really?"

"Do you have your doors locked?"

"Wouldn't that be bad for business?"

"You're still at work?"

"I'm brave and ambitious." ambitious."

"You should consider changing your hours."

"Maybe I could counsel the neurotic and paranoid just until noon. In case it gets dark."

"There's a reason for paranoia."

"Too much time talking to you?"

"I'm only ..." he began, then sighed as if giving up. "Did you have a reason to call?" The "other than to irritate me" part was implied.

"I was wondering if you had learned anything about those letters yet."

He paused. I realized I was holding my breath. "The a.n.a.lyst has a suicide letter, two ransom notes, and five bomb threats ahead of you."

"You're kidding."

"Unfortunately, there's no overt threat implied in those letters."

"Unfortunately?"

"It would still put them behind the bomb threats and the ransom notes, but might boost them ahead of the suicide."

"Any idea when things might be happening?"

"A week maybe. If no one else feels the need to blow up anything or talk about offing himself."

"Laney's right," I said. "You're overly sensitive."

"Occupational hazard," he said.

"I've got some info on the Overo case." Someone was speaking from the background of the precinct.