Jack offered his hand. “I’m Jack Russo, Hillsboro’s chief. This is Daisy Minor, the witness I told you about. Where she goes, the ball of fluff goes.”
He shook Jack’s hand, scratched his head, and said, “I’ll be right back.” Five minutes later, having cleared the way, he led Jack, Daisy, and Midas to his office.
Midas was an angel, sitting on Daisy’s lap while she calmly told the detective what she’d seen Saturday night. Yes, she was certain the man in the middle was the man who had introduced himself to her the week before as Mitchell, and, yes, she was certain that was his photograph in the paper. She described what he’d been wearing, to the best of her memory: jeans, boots, and a light-colored western-style shirt. Detective Morrison quietly passed Jack the crime scene photos. The clothes were dirty, since the body had been buried, but they were as Daisy had described them. That meant Mitchell hadn’t changed clothes from the time Daisy saw him in the Buffalo Club parking lot, which definitely upped the chances that he had been killed that night.
“Do you want to see them?” Jack asked Daisy.
She shook her head, and he passed the photos back to Detective Morrison.
Jack’s cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, looked at the number showing in the window, and said, “It’s the office. I’ll take it outside.”
He stepped out into the hall before hitting the talk button. “Russo.”
“Chief, this is Marvin.” Tony Marvin was the first-shift desk sergeant. He sounded uneasy, as if he wasn’t certain he should be calling. “Kendra Owens just called from the library. Jennifer Nolan, the mayor’s wife, called wanting to speak to Miss Minor, and when Kendra told her she wasn’t there, Mrs. Nolan became very agitated. She said Miss Minor’s life was in danger, that she’d overheard the mayor on the phone with a man named Sykes. Mrs. Owens said Mrs. Nolan seemed convinced they intended to kill Miss Minor. Since you had us put that protective detail on Miss Minor’s mother and aunt this morning, I thought you should know about this.”
The little hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stood up. “You’re exactly right, Tony. It’s looking like the mayor’s in trouble up to his ass. Have Mrs. Nolan picked up; take her statement.” He paused, thinking. “Keep her there. Put her in one of the interview rooms and hold her.”
“Mrs. Nolan, Chief?”
“Her life could be in danger, too.”
“You mean this isn’t just a case of Mrs. Nolan hitting the bottle way too early?”
“I wish it was. Get a deputy out to the Nolan house as fast as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” said the sergeant. “Uh, what do you want me to do when the mayor hears about this?” Tony said “when,” not “if,” because in a small town there was no “if.”
“Stall him. Blow him off. Make it sound as if she’s drunk and you don’t believe a word she’s said. I don’t want to spook him until we have her statement.”
“Okay, Chief.”
“And don’t put anything on the radio about it; telephone contact only. That’ll buy us some time.”
Jack disconnected and called Todd, and brought him up to speed. “Jennifer Nolan’s statement will give us reasonable grounds for getting a court order on those phone records, so if you don’t already have them, now we can get them legally. She gave us a name, too: Sykes.”
“It’s always nice to do it legally,” Todd said dryly.
“Before, I was just curious and uneasy. It’s different now.” Now that he knew there was a crime involved, everything had to be by the book. He didn’t mind bending the rules—or outright breaking them—when it was personal, but it was more than personal now. He didn’t want this case thrown out of court because of a technicality.
“I’ll see what I can find on Sykes. If he’s had so much as a speeding ticket, I’ll find him.”
Jack stepped back into the detective’s office and told them what was going on. Detective Morrison made quick notes, his left hand bent in that peculiar position so many lefties used. “If your mayor was involved with Chad Mitchell, he isn’t particular about his friends. Mitchell was a bottom-feeder; we’ve had him on resisting, possession, attempted rape, theft, B and E. We got him last year on date rape, but the prosecutor couldn’t make it stick. He never did any major time, six months here, a year there.”
“Possession,” said Jack. “Of what, exactly?”
Morrison consulted his file. “Marijuana, mostly. A small amount of cocaine. Rohypnol, clonazepam, GHB.”
“He was big on the date-rape drugs.”
“How does Mayor Nolan fit in with this?” Daisy asked. “He wasn’t one of the three men I saw with Mitchell, but he has to be involved somehow.”
“My guess is Sykes was one of the three, though, and Sykes is tied to the mayor in some shady deal they’re working.”
“That’s the most logical scenario,” said Morrison, getting to his feet. “Miss Minor, you said you saw them briefly, but clearly. I know it’ll take a lot of time, but I’d like you to look at our mug shots, see if you recognize anybody. Don’t guess; be sure, because if you aren’t, the defense lawyer will tear the case apart.”
Midas had been an angel the whole time, sitting in Daisy’s lap, but when she stood up to follow Detective Morrison, he decided it was time to do some exploring and began wriggling madly in his effort to get down. Daisy set him on his feet, and he immediately made a dive for the detective’s shoes. “Quick, where’s his duck?” she said as she rescued shoelaces, which was more difficult than it should have been because Detective Morrison started laughing and shuffling his feet, sending Midas into a spasm of joy at the new game.