Chasing a Blond Moon(46)
Jefferson, Service thought. Things were beginning to come together, at least geographically. “You’d better get a move on,” he said.
“I’m walking out the door now. Talk to you later.”
He checked in with McCants. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sore. I took yesterday off and called Wisconsin. The jung director’s name is Randall Gage. He’s not Korean and he’s not interested in talking to cops. He says jung membership is a private matter and if we want names, we’d better bring a subpoena.”
“You tell him we can do just that?”
“No, I figured you’d take care of that.”
He made toast for breakfast and later called Captain Grant in Marquette.
“We’ve found more of that hair and Gus’ll get it off to the fed lab. I think it’s time to turn up the burners.”
“Are the samples similar?”
“They look identical: ursine and blond.”
“Get the samples in the mail to the lab and consider the heat to be up.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
“How’s your arm?”
“Fine.” It had ached when he had awakened, but he had willed the soreness away and it felt fine now. He took the captain through the circumstances of the investigation, the coincidence of the figs, and the connection to the Pung family.
“Where’s the son now?”
“Supposedly enrolled at Michigan, but maybe he’s playing the same game he played here.”
“Keep me informed,” the captain said.
Pyykkonen showed up just after he finished eating.
“Want breakfast?” Shark asked, showing a connection to the world for the first time since last night. It wasn’t like Wettelainen to react to women he’d not met before, but he certainly was reacting this morning and Service found it amusing.
She smiled as Shark pulled back a chair for her, took an order for eggs over easy and bacon, and started assembling the breakfast.
“Walter promised the girl that the cops will follow through on this,” Service said.
“His name is Walt,” Shark said from the stove.
Limey Pyykkonen said, “I called the prosecutor and Judge Pavelich. They’re talking to people in Wisconsin about extradition. I’m going to drive down there and be in on the arrest. The sheriff talked to the university about Pung’s son and his surrogate. They don’t buy it at all.”
Service wasn’t surprised. “You want company in Wisconsin?”
She seemed to hesitate. “Sure.”
“Call me on my cell phone. I’ll meet you in Crystal Falls and we’ll go from there.”
On his way to Watersmeet he called Jimmy Crosbee, the student who looked after Newf and Cat when he and Nantz had to be away. Jimmy had first worked for them last year, was now a senior at Escanaba High School, and one of the top football players in the Upper Peninsula. The boy didn’t hesitate and said he’d take care of the animals after practice, and if Service’s absence ran into Friday, his cousin would fill in for him. The team had a Friday night game in Traverse City.
He located Sheena Grinda on the Automatic Vehicle Locator computer, called her on 800 MHz, and arranged to meet her at a coffee shop in Watersmeet.
Grinda arrived after him, dressed in shorts, a halter, and tiny white sandals. It was apparent that her uniform hid a lot and he wondered if this was by design.
“You didn’t tell me it was a pass day,” he said. Like most workers, officers got off two days a week, and called them pass days. Weekend was a term that didn’t exist for them, and holiday was rarely more than a word in the dictionary.
“It’s not. I’m working later tonight. I’ve got a dork running a trot line in one of the back bays of Beatons Lake.”
This was the Grinda he knew, always working, always pushing. “Any luck on that cable?”
“There are nine places west of Marquette selling it. I’ve made phone contact with all of them. Now I have to go visit and show them the sample. They tell me there’s a way to identify the brand and from that we might get a back-trail. I’m headed down to Menominee as soon as we’re finished.”
“Nice outfit,” Service said.
“Bait is bait,” she said, giving him the hint of a smile. “I had lunch with Simon yesterday,” she said.
Simon del Olmo was in adjacent Iron County.
“Still no sign of that trapper you’ve been looking for, but he says he has a lead on another of his hidey holes. Does that mean anything to you?”
“He had a cabin on Mitigwaki Creek. It burned. But Simon found another place. He wasn’t there. The guy gets around pretty well, considering he’s blind and on one leg.”