She knew this because she’d already texted him. And he had agreed.
But now Overby was troubled once more. ‘Of course, if it becomes a county operation …’
Meaning he’d miss out on the credit – and press conferences – that went with closing a case.
‘Tell you what. You can’t do more than brief.’
Advise.
‘But we can still get our oar in.’
She’d never understood that expression. ‘How do you mean, Charles?’
‘Let’s involve the CBI folks we’ve got here, on the task force. Jimmy Gomez and Steve Foster.’
‘What? Charles, no. They’re on Serrano and Guzman … I need them focused on that.’
‘No, no, this’ll be good. Just to kick around some ideas with them.’
‘With Foster? Kick ideas around with Steve Foster? He doesn’t kick around ideas. He shoots them in the head.’
Overby was looking away. Perhaps her glare seared. ‘Now that I think about it, makes sense to run it by them. Good on all counts. We have … considerations. Under the circumstances.’
‘Charles, please, no.’
‘Let’s just go talk to them, that’s all. Get Foster’s thoughts. Jimmy’s too. He’s one of us.’
Whatever the consequences, he’d decided his office couldn’t take a complete back seat to the Sheriff’s.
Avoiding her eyes, he rose, slipped his jacket over his immaculate white shirt and strode out of the office. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea. Come along, Kathryn. Let’s have a chat with our friends.’
CHAPTER 14
The Guzman Connection task force was up to full strength.
In addition to blustery Steve Foster and staunch Carol Allerton, two others were present in the conference room dedicated to the operation.
‘Kathryn, Charles.’ This was from Steve Lu, the chief of detectives at the Salinas Police Department, a.k.a. Steve Two, since another, Foster, was on the team. Lu, an excessively skinny man – Dance’s opinion – was a specialist in gangs. His younger brother had been in a crew and been busted on a few minor counts – though he was now out of the system and clean. Lu was persistent and no-nonsense, maybe trying harder to make up for his sibling’s stumble. He was humorless, Dance had learned over several years of working with him, but he was not, as the other Steve was, bluntly contrary.
The fourth task-force member was Jimmy Gomez, the young CBI agent whose name had come up earlier. Dark-complexioned and sporting a moustache as brown as Foster’s was light and elaborate, he stayed in shape by playing football – that is, soccer – every minute when he wasn’t at work or attending to his family. He was assigned to this division of the CBI and his office was two doors down from Dance’s. They were both co-workers and friends. (Just two weeks ago Dance, her children, Gomez, his wife and their three youngsters had done the Del Monte Cineplex thing, then gone to Lala’s after, to discuss over dessert and coffee the brilliance of Pixar and which animated character they each would want to be; Dance had selected the hero from Brave, mostly because she envied the hair.) The two Steves were at one table, Jimmy Gomez at another. Carol Allerton, in the corner, waved to the newcomers and returned to a serious mobile-phone conversation.
Overby announced, ‘Some help, s’il vous pla?t?’
Dance felt her jaw tighten and knew exactly what she was radiating kinesically. She wondered if anyone else in the room did. Her displeasure had to be obvious.
‘You’ve probably heard about the incident at the roadhouse, Solitude Creek,’ Overby said. ‘I know you have, Jimmy.’
‘That fire?’ Foster asked. He seemed perpetually distracted.
‘No, it was more than that.’ Overby glanced at Dance.
She said, ‘The club itself didn’t burn. The perp started a fire outside near the HVAC system to get the smell of smoke into the club. He’d blocked the exit doors. Three dead, dozens injured. A stampede. It was pretty bad.’
‘Intentional? People crushed to death,’ Allerton whispered. ‘Terrible.’
‘Jesus,’ Steve Lu muttered. ‘So it’s homicide.’
Homicide embraces everything from suicide to vehicular manslaughter to premeditated murder. It was into the last of those categories that the Solitude Creek incident probably fell.
Foster took the news less emotionally. ‘Can’t be insurance. Otherwise the owner would’ve torched the place empty. Wouldn’t want any fatalities. Disgruntled workers, pissed-off customers got kicked out drunk?’
‘Preliminary interviews don’t turn up any obvious suspects but it’s a possibility,’ Dance said. ‘We’ll keep looking.’
Overby then said, ‘Now. Kathryn’s got a lead.’
‘I was canvassing the area. I found a woman who lives about two hundred yards from the end of the club’s parking lot. She told me she didn’t see anything odd around the time of the incident, she wasn’t near the club, but I knew she was lying.’
Foster continued to gaze at her, his eyes neutral but still managing to radiate criticism for her missing the clues during the interview earlier.
‘How?’ Steve Lu asked.
‘I had a feeling she had a connection with the club. She’s on welfare and poor but she loves music. I suspected she’d hike to the club and listen to the shows from the outside. I asked if she was there last night. She said no. But she was clearly lying.’
Foster looked over a pad containing his precise notes.
Dance continued, ‘Generally, it’s hard to tell if somebody’s being deceptive without establishing their baseline behavior.’