to Dugan.”
“Did he identify Dugan?”
“He met with him, but couldn’t see him. He even described his voice, like a radio announcer.”
“So we still don’t have him?”
“Be patient. If Murphy gets asked along on the picnic, then we’ll spray all the ants, and one of them will give us Dugan.”
“And Crane?”
“Yeah, I guess. If we get Dugan, I think he’ll roll on her.”
“Right, he’s that kind of gentleman.”
“Now, what you and I have to do is meet with Mike Freeman and figure out how we’re going to cover the hotel robbery. And we don’t want Crane to know about the meeting, so let’s do it at your office.”
“When?”
“Anytime you’re both free, I’ll shake loose.”
“What have you got in mind for covering the robbery?”
“My idea is to throw everything we’ve got at it, but I expect Mike is going to have some ideas, too.”
“Well, I don’t have any ideas, so I’ll listen to you two.”
“First time I ever knew you not to have any ideas.”
“Tell you the truth, this one is so big that it seems more like a military operation than a bust, and I’m out of my depth there.”
“Set the meeting with Mike, and we’ll see. I’m betting that you’ll be talking your head off.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I wish you’d say that more often.”
—
Bill Murphy stood in front of a desk in a judge’s chambers and stared forlornly at the pile of his money on the judge’s desk.
“I don’t have nearly enough meetings like this,” the judge said, fingering a stack.
“Thank you for meeting us in chambers, Your Honor,” ADA Kravitz said. “It’s important that word doesn’t filter out about this deal, because Mr. Murphy will be assisting us in preventing a major crime.”
“I got that,” the judge said. “So all this cash is mine to keep?”
Beth Cutter spoke up. “Judge, you can do with it as you will, as long as my client gets a bail receipt in that amount.” She handed him the document; he looked it over and signed it, then he opened a desk drawer and raked the cash into it.
“Detective Connor,” the judge said, “I want two armed, uniformed officers to take possession of these funds and give me a receipt.”
“They’re waiting outside, Judge. I’ll send them in.”
“Okay, Mr. Murphy, you’re free on bail.”
“Unhook him,” Cutter said to Connor, and Connor did.
“Here are the keys to your van,” Connor said, handing them over to Murphy. “Everything that was in it is now in a police custody locker, except your motorcycle, which actually seems to be registered to you, instead of being stolen.” He handed Murphy an envelope. “You can have some walking-around money from your stash.” Murphy didn’t thank him.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cutter said. “Oh, and here’s your cell phone.” She handed it over, then led him out of the building and down the street to the police compound, where the van was waiting. “Now, listen to me, Bill,” Cutter said. “You’ve gotten a once-in-a-lifetime, get-out-of-jail-free card, and now you’re going to have to earn it, so don’t get any ideas about leaving or skipping out.”
“Don’t worry,” Murphy said.
“And you’re going to have to make this robbery setup happen. If you don’t get the job, you’re going to find yourself back inside, and with everything they’ve got on you, you’ll do a lot of time.”
“I get it.”
“Another thing—all the stolen stuff that was in your shop is still in your shop. Don’t try to sell any of it. It’s not yours. If you need more cash, sell your motorcycle.”
“All right, all right, Beth. I appreciate the deal you got me, and I won’t blow it, I promise.”
“And you owe me three grand,” she said.
Reluctantly, he produced the envelope with his walking-around money and paid her.
“Okay, get out of here.” She walked away.
Murphy got into the van and started it. Cutter had a word with the guard at the gate, and he was waved through. He was so happy, he was nearly in tears.
52
Murphy found that his apartment under the shop had been tossed, but not destroyed. The contents of the office desk upstairs had been emptied onto the floor, and he rummaged among the detritus until he found Nita’s address book and her sister’s number.
“Hello?”
“Berta, it’s Bill. Let me speak to Nita.”
Berta was wary; she had never approved of Murphy. “Who says she’s here?”
“She does.”
Berta didn’t bother to cover the phone. “Nita!” she yelled. “The idiot is on the phone!”
Nita picked up an extension. “Okay, Berta, I’ve got it. I said, I’ve got it!”