The Boom Room (8 page)
Pratt chuckled. “Looks as if my poking around lit a fire under them. When the cops start asking questions of friends or employees, it usually does. You got photos, of course?”
“Natch. Want me to follow one of them? They seem to be going in separate directions.”
“No need. I just wanted evidence of them having lied to me about how well they know each other. I can reel them in at my leisure now.”
“I got a good shot of them holding hands. But she was looking pretty unhappy by the end of the conversation.”
“Great! I knew I could count on you.”
Ellis cut to the chase. “We need to get together. You have to call this guy back. I'm dying to find out what he knows about Master. Where are you right now?”
“Standing outside The Boom Room. My phone's battery needed charging. I borrowed a uniform's cell to call you.”
“I'm about fifteen minutes away. I'll buzz over and pick you up.”
“We're getting close on this one, David. I can feel it.”
Ellis set his phone to
Speaker
and passed it to his partner.
“Detective Sergeant Merv Pratt calling. You called me earlier.”
“Ah, yes, Pratt. Your bulletin was passed on to me. I think I know your boy. What's he done this time?”
“First of all, please tell me about yourself. I like to know who I'm talking with.”
“Sheriff Martin Warsh. The person in your photographs appears to be Desmond Nolen, although he didn't have long hair and that stupid goatee and mustache when I knew him. Used to be clean-cut.”
“And how do you know him?”
“We suspect him of killing a young woman. We could never pin anything on him though. He's a slippery one.”
“Whoa, whoa. You're starting at the end. I need to know the beginning and the middle.”
“I have the whole thing written up, along with the wanted bulletin. I can fax you everything.”
“I'd really appreciate that, Sheriff.”
“So why are you boys interested in Nolen?”
“It could be murder. Fax me those notes. I'll go through them and call you back. Okay?”
“Suits me fine. I'll be waiting.”
“How fast can you get me to headquarters?” Pratt asked after the call ended. “I want to be there when that fax arrives. I don't want Gordon getting hold of it first.”
“From here, eight minutes if you think I should break a few laws.”
“Break a few laws.”
As they muscled their way through the downtown traffic, Pratt and Ellis discussed what the order of things should be.
“You should get Gordon to follow up on the Thomson-Lewis angle,” Ellis said. “That way you and I can focus on Master.”
Pratt was silent for a couple of minutes. “I'm not saying you shouldn't be involved, David, but we need to tread carefully here. You can't be seen to be involved. It's tricky.”
“How do we explain the photos I took then? You can't say you took them. You were down at The Boom Room when Thomson met Lewis.”
“Hmmâ¦Let me think about that.”
“So what are you going to do about Mike Master?”
“I'm thinking that perhaps we should bring the entire band in, turn up the heat and see what pops.”
“How about I handle the Tucci girl? I've already spoken to her. She told me she was going to poke around a little more. Maybe she's got new information.”
Pratt considered, then nodded.
“That could work. Get in touch with her. If she's got anything else, share it with me at once, okay?”
At police headquarters, Pratt got out of the car, then stuck his head back inside.
“And don't share what's going on with anyone. That includes your family.”
Before driving off, Ellis dialed Carolyn Tucci.
She sounded excited. “I was just going to call you.”
“About what?”
“All kinds of new information. I went over to see the band today.”
Slightly alarmed, Ellis asked, “Did you talk to Master?”
“Mike? Nah. I wanted to ask Jonny and Skip some things. But I did snoop a bit in Mike's room. Can we meet someplace?”
“Sure.” It was nearly two. “I'm outside police headquarters. Could we meet at the same park as before?”
“Not a problem. I have to be at work at six anyway. Look for me in half an hour. Got to dash. Someone's at the door.”
Gordon wasn't in the squad room when Pratt got up there. He stopped in the doorway of McDonnell's office and waited for him to get off the phone.
“I was just talking with Cheevers. He says to tell you âwell done' on finding that second knife. That goes for me too. Good work.”
“Thanks. Where's Gordon?”
“He's gone out to bring in the club manager and the grieving widow. He's latched on to them as the most likely suspects. He asked to take Snow with him, and since that lug was just sitting on his fat rear, I said okay. Where are you on this?”
“I have another angle I'm working. Seems Mike Master, the band's singer, has a dodgy past. I should have a fax waiting with some more information on him.”
“Well, carry on, but keep me in the loop.”
“Will do, skipper.”
As he went to retrieve it, Pratt decided he was happy that Gordon had gone after Thomson and Lewis. He couldn't make too much of a mess of that. His strongarm approach would probably work well on them. And Snow would keep him from going too far.
He found a seven-page fax in the tray beneath the machine. Rather than sit at his desk and run the risk of being disturbed, he took it into an interview room and shut the door. Based on what he saw as he glanced at the first page, he realized he needed to concentrate.
A half hour later, Pratt sat back and rubbed his eyes. Gobsmacked was how he felt. Things could be much more serious than he'd imagined.
His first call was downstairs.
“I've got three people you need to round up for me. They all live at the same address. Don't tell them anything other than they're wanted for further questioning. Make it all nice and friendly. Their names are Jonny Fedrano, Skip Blair and Mike Master. Tell your men to go easy, but keep on their toes with Master. If you don't find them at their house, let me know immediately. Here's the address⦔
Pratt again looked at the faxed report, sighed and made his second call.
“Sheriff Warsh? Pratt here. I've read your reportâ¦Yes, I have a number of questions.”
Ellis waited impatiently at the same park bench for Carolyn Tucci to show up.
He looked at his watch again. Nearly five. Where was she? He tried her phone. No answer. Checking with information, he found no landline listing for either Carolyn or Jamie. Like many young people these days, they probably relied on cell phones.
By five fifteen, he was getting worried. Ellis didn't know how reliable Carolyn was, but so far she'd shown no signs of being a flakeâespecially where Jamie was concerned.
At five thirty, he decided to call Pratt. He couldn't believe she'd be this late, not without calling.
Something must have happenedâpossibly something bad.
“What do you mean, she hasn't shown up?” Pratt asked.
He'd been away from his desk, filling in McDonnell, and there had been a message waiting when he got back. It was Ellis. He'd called him back as fast as he could punch the numbers in.
“She should have been here by four thirty. It's now an hour later. This isn't like her.”
“Do you know where the hell she lives?”
“Only that she lives with my brother someplace other than the house the band rents.”
Pratt was shuffling through the large box that held all the records of the case so far. He hadn't had time to organize it, so the thing was a disaster, with reports and photos just stuffed in.
“I'll look for the charge sheet on my computer. Maybe it has the address.” Pratt impressed even himself as he found the info in record time. “Crap! It has the band house's address. Now why would the kid have done that?”
“I got the feeling they'd just moved in together recently,” Ellis told him. “The coffee shop where she works should have it. I'll try there.”
“No, you won't. I'll make that call.”
“You're not going to leave me on the sidelines, are you?”
Pratt considered for a moment.
“No. I'll get the address, then snag a squad car and driver. We'll come down to pick you up. Sit tight. Call me pronto if she turns up or you hear from her.”
“So in the opinion of this sheriff, as well as a psychologist who examined Master, what we have on our hands is a borderline psychotic,” Pratt told Ellis.
They were in the backseat of a squad car as it sped crosstown as fast as the evening rush would allow.
“So Master killed someone?”
“He's only suspected of it. A young girl, a classmate, back when he was sixteen. It was a brutal killing. She was stabbed multiple times. Our lad is very clever though. A regular Einstein, according to Warsh, and top of his class in school. But given to very bizarre behavior over many years. Warsh only found out about it later, but a school psychologist had examined Nolen a year before and strongly recommended treatment. Our boy is superb at being able to blend in and appear perfectly normal when it suits his needs. Had his parents completely under his thumb and they didn't even know it. By the time Warsh pried the results of the psychological tests out of the school board, the kid had disappeared.”
Ellis whistled. “And he used a knife too. Did Warsh have any idea what kind?”
“Most likely a survival knife with a serrated blade. Nolen's parents claim they have no idea where their son is. Warsh believes them.”
“Where was he between then and now?”
Pratt shrugged. “No idea, but I'll bet it's an interesting story.”
The car's radio squawked.
“They've got two of the three you want, Pratt,” the cop in the front seat said.
“Let me guessâFedrano and Blair.”
“Right, sir.”
“Find out if they have any idea where Master is.”
The tinny voice from the other end said, “The two we've got say the third came in screaming that someone had been in his room. When they said it wasn't them, Master left, slamming the front door so hard, it came off one hinge.”
Pratt looked at Ellis.
“How long before we get to that address I gave you?” he asked the uniform driving them.
“Maybe five minutes.”
“Call for backup. Tell them not to use sirens and to wait for instructions, okay?”
“We're a block away,” the driver told the two detectives in the backseat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Pull over here,” Pratt told him. “Where's the backup?”
“Two minutes away.”
Ellis, bent over his phone's small screen, told Pratt, “There's an alley behind the apartment building.”
“Tell them to go there and keep an eye on the back door,” Pratt said. “Ellis and I will go in first. If our boy is here, I don't want to alarm him. He might hurt the girl.”
Ellis looked at Pratt. “It might be too late for that.”
The driver told them, “We've got two more cars responding, sir.”
“One at either end of the street, but not within the block. No one goes in or outâespecially the press. I'm sure they've heard all of this. Give me your handheld radio, please. Once we're inside, you come up slowly and secure the front door. Got it?”
The two detectives got out of the car and cautiously approached the five-story brick low-rise from the same side of the streetâthat way, there was less chance of being spotted if someone was watching.
“You carrying?” Pratt asked his partner as they walked.
“I took my gun from the lockbox in my car's trunk while I was waiting for you to pick me up.”
