Night and Day (20 page)

There was one more name on the list. “Sergeant Van Houten?”

“Lockup sergeant,” Henry said. “You need to speak to him?”

“He seems to be the only name I have that matches a real officer,” I said. “I can’t say I’m
surprised, but it’s not what I was hoping for.”

“I feel for you, Welles, I really do,” Henry said. Then he smiled and shook his head.
“Actually, that’s not true. I don’t care. Chief said to cooperate. I don’t have to like it. I don’t
have to like you. I just have to cooperate. Which is what I’m doing. If it’s not helpful, that’s not
my problem. You’ll just have to . . . live with it.”

I nodded slowly. “Fair enough. I want to talk to Van Houten, then Frolander. Now.”

Henry picked up the phone. “Have Sergeant Van Houten and Lieutenant Frolander report
here. When Van Houten gets here, send him in. I’ll let you know when to send in Frolander.”

He hung up the phone. “It will be a couple of minutes. Van Houten will need to get
somebody to cover his post.”

I barely heard him. I was thinking about what Ray Holstein had said about the night Joshua
was murdered. “How about Detective Martinez?” I asked.

“What about him?”

“Is he around?”

Henry shook his head. “No longer assigned to Uptown.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means he’s been reassigned,” he said. “He was on loan from Central District, order came
through last night they wanted him back.”

“Kind of sudden, wouldn’t you say?”

Henry shrugged. “Deputy Commissioner likes to move some officers around, give them
experience in a variety of assignments. Usually means the officer is on a fast track to command.”
He paused. “I can’t say that I was impressed by Martinez personally, but somebody somewhere
must like him.”

“Detective Fields?”

“Also reassigned to Central. I guess Martinez saw something in Fields and put in a good
word with whoever is pulling the strings. Reassignment order for both of them came in on the
same memo.”

“Kind of tough losing two guys from your murder squad,” I said. I didn’t mention the third,
whose head was on the floor of the interview room downstairs. Henry wouldn’t know about
Holstein yet.

“We’ll manage,” Henry said. “Like I said, Martinez didn’t impress me, and Fields wasn’t
exactly a candidate for detective of the year either.”

“How about pulling me copies of their ID pictures before I leave,” I said.

“That might take a while,” he said. “Department Personnel Office is at Central District. I
can put through a request . . .”

“Have your records sergeant connect to the department archives,” I said. “They’ll have an
electronic copy of the personnel files there. Run me a copy of both officer’s files.” I smiled. “I
told you, I used to be a Metro cop. I know how things work. Don’t treat me like some asshole off the street.”

Before he could answer, the door opened and a short, chubby sergeant with a blonde crewcut
came into the office. “Sergeant Van Houten reporting, sir.”

I kept my eyes on Henry. “The files,” I said.

Henry scowled as he picked up the phone. “Call records, tell them to access the archives
and print copies of the personnel files of Detectives Martinez and Fields. When they’re done,
have them bring the copies up and leave them with you.” His eyes met mine. “Mr. Welles will
pick them up on his way out.”

He hung up the phone. “Sergeant, Mr. Welles has some questions for you. Give him your
full . . . cooperation.”

Van Houten nodded and turned to me. His eyes flickered. He probably would have been on
duty when Holstein brought me in two nights earlier.

“Wednesday night, you got a call from Sergeant Starkovicz at Downtown station around
8:30 pm,” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah, Stan called asking about a pickup at his station. I didn’t have it on my
sheet, so I passed it to the watch lieutenant.” He glanced at Henry. “It’s all in the log, sir.”

“Is that unusual?” I asked. “I mean, it not being on your sheet.”

He shook his head. “Depends on the pickup. If it’s arranged ahead of time, it’s usually on
there. If something comes up sudden-like, I won’t necessarily know about it until they bring
in the prisoner.”

“You said you passed the call to the watch lieutenant,” I said slowly. “Was that Lieutenant
Belnikov?”

“Who’s Lieutenant Belnikov?” he asked, looking to Henry.

“A figment of Mr. Welles’s imagination,” Henry replied softly.

“Who did you pass the call to?” I asked.

“I told you, the watch lieutenant,” Van Houten said. “Lieutenant Frolander.”

“You spoke to Lieutenant Frolander?”

Van Houten shook his head. “No, I transferred the call to his office. If he wasn’t in the
office, it would bounce back to me and I could pass it on to somebody else who might know
about it.”

“Did the call come back to you?”

He shook his head. “No, I guess the lieutenant was there and answered Stan’s question.
Didn’t hear nothing else about it.”

“Which officers brought the prisoner in? And where is he now?”

“What prisoner?”

I sighed. “Jedron Marsch,” I said. “The guy Starkovicz called about.”

“Nobody brought in that prisoner,” Van Houten said, turning to Henry. “Sir, you can check the logs. The only
prisoner I booked before midnight was . . .” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “. . .
Mr. Welles here.”

“I’m sure your logs are accurate and complete, sergeant,” Henry said. He looked at me. “I
can have a copy made for you if you like.”

I shook my head. “No, I won’t need them.” I looked up at Van Houten. “Sergeant, were
you surprised that you’d gotten a call for a pickup, and nobody ever delivered the prisoner?”

He turned back to me. “No, it happens. Usually because somebody got it wrong, and the
prisoner was supposed to go to another station. That would explain why it wasn’t on my sheet to
begin with.”

“You know Detectives Martinez and Fields, sergeant?”

He looked at Henry, then back at me. “I don’t really know them, but I’ve talked to them.
Well, Lou Fields at least. Martinez wasn’t here long, and didn’t seem to have much to say.”

“You see either of them Wednesday night?”

He shook his head.

“Thanks, sergeant, that’s all I needed.”

Van Houten turned to Henry. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No,” Henry said, looking at me. “You can return to your post, sergeant.” He picked up the
phone as Van Houten left and said, “Frolander here? Good, send him in.”

Lieutenant Mike Frolander was an older man, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a slight
limp. Even with the limp, his movements were easy and relaxed. He ignored me completely as
he walked past.

“Captain,” he said, coming to a stop in front of Henry’s desk.

“Mike, this is Mr. Welles with the Area Governor’s Office. He’s got a couple of questions
for you.”

Frolander turned to me and nodded. “Mr. Welles.”

“Lieutenant, you’re the night shift watch lieutenant here at Uptown station?”

“That’s correct.”

“You were on duty Wednesday night?”

“That’s correct,” he said again.

“At around 8:30 pm, Sergeant Van Houten transferred a call to your office, about a prisoner
pickup at Downtown station. Did you receive that call?”

“No, I did not,” Frolander said.

“Sergeant Van Houten tells me that the call would have bounced back to his desk if you
didn’t pick up. That didn’t happen. Any idea why?”

“I have no personal knowledge about that,” he replied. “I can only surmise that I was not in
my office when the call came in. Possibly the telephone system malfunctioned and the call was
lost or rerouted.”

“Or somebody else picked up the phone,” I said. “Lieutenant Belnikov, for instance.”

“I don’t know an officer by that name.”

“Relax, lieutenant, you’re not on the witness stand. I’m just asking some questions. I’d
understand if you had somebody covering your calls while you weren’t in your office, personal
break, that kind of thing.”

“No other officer is authorized to answer calls to the watch lieutenant,” Frolander said. “If I
leave my office and the phone isn’t answered in five rings, the caller is returned to the
switchboard or the originating post and an attempt will be made to contact me if I’m in the
station. If I’m unavailable, the call will be forwarded from the switchboard or the originating
post to the watch commander, Captain Henry. Those are the regulations. That’s the way we do
it here.”

I wasn’t getting anywhere with Frolander, and that wasn’t going to change. If he was lying,
he was doing a solid job of it.

“Thanks, lieutenant, that’ll be all.”

Frolander turned to Henry, nodded, said, “Captain,” then turned and left.

“Anything else, Mr. Welles?” Henry asked.

“Quite a mystery, isn’t it,” I said, standing. “Call comes in, Van Houten transfers it, and it
seems to just . . . disappear. Only according to the Downtown lockup sergeant, somebody who
doesn’t exist answers the call, and confirms the prisoner pickup. Then a prisoner pickup is made
by two detectives from this station who also don’t seem to exist.”

“I understand you’re a private investigator, Mr. Welles,” Henry said, leaning back in his
chair. “Solving mysteries is right up your alley.”

“That’s right, captain” I said with a humorless smile. “And I will solve this one. Count on
it.”

The plan was to meet Takeda and Nedelmann outside the station, and head to Lou
Carpenter’s club. I stepped out the small door next to the sally port at the back of the station,
where they loaded prisoners for transport, to see Takeda and Nedelmann, standing about a meter
apart, on the sidewalk next to the Jeep. Takeda had her sword out and it looked like she was
ready to use it. On Nedelmann.

I took a couple of steps toward them. Then my way was blocked by one of Takeda’s guards.
He stared at me and shook his head slowly.

When I stepped back, the guard moved aside. Nedelmann was smiling. Takeda wasn’t.
The sword was held in a two-handed grip across her body and she was ready to make a backhand
slash that would cut Nedelmann in half.

“Dick,” I said, my voice low.

He ignored me. “See, that’s exactly what I was talking about,” he said to Takeda. “Your
technique is a little sloppy. That angle is all wrong for a solid follow through.”

“Let’s see if you’re correct, Officer Nedelmann,” Takeda said.

As she started to raise the sword to strike, Nedelmann pivoted, ducked in under her arm, and
smashed his shoulder into her right side, under the raised arm. Takeda fell back and Nedelmann
dropped on top of her, hands straddling her head, his face just above hers. Takeda still had the
sword, in her right hand, across her chest, the blade no more than two inches from Nedelmann’s
throat.

Nedelmann smiled. “When you go into the stroke, you need to move fast. If your opponent
is quick, you’re vulnerable.” He paused. “On the plus side, you’ve still got the sword. The
angle isn’t great, but you can probably jam it into my throat deep enough to kill me, even without
solid leverage.”

Takeda said nothing as she stared up at him. After a moment, she turned the blade slightly
and tapped his throat with the flat of it. Once. Twice.

Nedelmann rolled off of her and stood. She scrambled to her feet a moment later.

“If you two are done, we’ve got work to finish before sunrise,” I said.

Nedelmann bowed his head to her and said, “Takeda-sama.”

She hesitated a moment, then bowed her head as well and said, “Nedelmann-san.”

“Dick, you’re with me in the Jeep. Takeda, you follow. And send the escort home. I don’t
think we’ll be needing them.”

I climbed into the Jeep and started the engine. Nedelmann jumped in and I floored it without
waiting for him to close the door.

“Geez, Charlie, if you’re going to drive like that, at least give me time to put on my seat
belt,” Nedelmann said with a laugh.

“Promise me you don’t have a fucking death wish, Dick,” I said, barely able to control my
anger. “I can put up with a lot of shit, but if you really want to die, I’d prefer you did it on your
own time.”

Chapter Eighteen

We were racing through the quiet streets of Uptown. In the rearview
mirror, I could see Takeda’s SUV behind us.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, snapping his safety belt. “I don’t have a death
wish.”

“Then what the hell was that thing with Takeda. She was half a second from taking off your
head. You do know that, right?”

“Take it easy, Charlie,” he said, leaning back in the seat. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You were doing the exact fucking thing I told you not to do. Did you think
that was just a suggestion?”