Chasing a Blond Moon(50)
Service ate in silence, thinking about the day ahead, wondering if Rafe Masonetsky and Randall Gage were going to help give the two investigations new directions and impetus. When he tuned in, Pyykkonen and Wayno were talking about porcupines and ladybugs. Service tuned them out and tried to get Limey’s attention, but she was locked on to Wayno and it took a while.
“What?” she asked.
“We set on a subpoena for the archery club?”
“No,” she said. “The prosecutor says we don’t have enough to justify one.”
“Not even if Pung was a member?”
“He’s a prick,” Ficorelli said, joining in. “Don’t worry, Service. I’ve got a plan. We don’t need a fucking subpoena. We’ll get the list.”
Pyykkonen smiled supportively.
Service exhaled and returned his attention to a cup of hot coffee.
After breakfast they thanked Ficorelli’s mother and Service thought he saw Wayno’s hand on Pyykkonen’s rump, touching her like this wasn’t the first time.
Outside Wayno gave them directions to the jung and told them he had some things to do before they joined up at 10 a.m.
Service and Pyykkonen cruised into town and checked out a place called Bipedal Bowling, where Rafe Masonetsky worked. The sign said, ONLY TWO-LANE BOWLING EAST OF WYOMING. BURGERS: FIVE FOR A BUCK. The parking lot for the bowling alley was behind the building with the red brick facade. It was small, unpaved, and there were few lights.
“What the hell does that mean?” Service asked, pointing at the sign.
“We’re in Wisconsin,” Pyykkonen said. “They think differently down here.”
“Why the hell won’t the prosecutor cooperate?”
“He’s cooperating—on the warrant for Masonetsky. We’ll have an extradition order by tonight. It’s all set.”
“Good. But what about Randall Gage?”
“Don’t worry, Wayno has a plan.”
Wayno? “Last night you looked ready to kill the guy.”
“I was. He grabbed my ass while you were outside.”
“And you slapped him. I saw the mark.”
“Not that hard.”
“And now the ass-grabber is Wayno?”
“Leave it alone,” she said. “When I was a rookie in Lansing, my first supervisor was a woman, the first female sergeant in the Lansing force. I had another officer grab me one night on patrol, so I asked her what someone should do when that happened.”
Service watched her while she drove.
She glanced at him. “She said, ‘First, decide if you like it.’”
“So you didn’t like it?”
“I liked it just fine,” she said, “but I didn’t want him thinking he was in control.”
“What was all that talk about porcupines and ladybugs?”
Pyykkonen looked over at him and smiled. “Porcupines have sex every day of their lives, and the orgasm of a female ladybug lasts up to nine hours.”
Service mulled it over for several minutes as they moved through town. The slap and antagonism had been replaced by bedroom hair and red eyes, and the sex habits of porcupines and ladybugs. “Jesus!” he blurted out. “You slept with him?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. It was my decision and now you’re wondering, am I Macofome’s regular squeeze, or what? Again, that’s equally none of your business. I sleep with whoever I please, when I please. As I understand it, you’ve gotten around yourself.”
Service stared at her. Had she been checking up on him, and why? The thought made him wince.
“If men can do it, women can do it,” she said. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. Sex is just sex.”
They met Ficorelli about a mile south of the jung, which had the formal name of Oconomowoc Korean Archery Center (OKAC).
The little warden was jacked up on adrenaline. “You make your request. If he cooperates, fine. If not, step back and let me take over.”
“What’s you plan?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Ficorelli said.
The OKAC was an old barn that had been re-sided and re-done. The range itself was built at the back of a housing development, with a treeline to the north and homes on both sides. Service saw a large sign with Chinese characters. The one he had seen in Pung’s photo? He felt encouraged.
Randall Gage came out to meet them. He was a short, dumpy man wearing a padded black coat and black felt boots that stretched up to his knees. He wore a Fu Manchu mustache, carefully trimmed, and had dark eyes, which made him look menacing.
“Mr. Gage, I’m Grady Service. You talked to my colleague, Officer Candice McCants.”
“I figured I’d see somebody,” he said. “I’ve talked to my lawyer. You can’t have our list. It’s an unwarranted intrusion of privacy.”