on the officers’ own time.
Now, Tully was playing catch up, trying to dig into cases to which he would be giving his complete attention were it not for the Diego case.
As Tully studied the folders on his desk, Sergeant Phil Mangiapane entered the squad room. They greeted each other in the morning manner of co-workers not yet fully awake. Mangiapane sat at his desk and checked his calendar for the day. Then he looked over at Tully. “Did you get your phone call yet?”
Tully, without looking up, shook his head.
The phone rang. Mangiapane looked startled, as if his question had caused the phone to ring. He looked at Tully, who sat eyeing the phone but making no move to answer it.
The sergeant picked up the phone. “Homicide, Mangiapane. Yeah, just a minute.” He looked across at Tully. “It’s for you, Zoo.”
“Tully.”
“Lieutenant, the one you’re looking for is at 3330 West Lafayette. There will be several people at that address, all stoned out of their minds. You should have no trouble getting in.”
Tully was sure he recognized the voice. It was Tony Wayne’s man-mountain bodyguard. Tully, who still thought of him as “Tiny,” was amazed that Albert, as Wayne had called him, was this articulate.
“Are you calling for Mr. Wayne?”
Albert completely ignored the question. “Your subject’s name is Julio—that’s spelled with a ‘J’—Ramirez.”
Tully whistled soundlessly. “The kid brother of Pedro Ramirez?”
There was a slight pause. Tully took the pause to mean this was an accurate identification. Tully was certain that had he been mistaken, Albert would have corrected him.
“That is all you need to know.” The connection was broken.
“Let’s go, Manj. We got some garbage to pick up.”
Brad Kleimer had been awake for some time. He had eaten breakfast and was on his second cup of coffee. He gazed out the picture window of his downtown high-rise apartment. He was thinking of a million things. The buzz of the phone brought him back to reality.
“Kleimer.”
“Brad, this is Quirt. I got something I think you oughtta know.”
“Yeah?”
“That old man died last night … the old geezer that Carleson visited all the time.”
“Who?”
“The old man. You remember.…” A pause. “Demers, Herbert Demers. He was in Receiving. You remember.…”
“Okay. Herbert Demers. So?”
“Well, they were going to release the body to the next of kin. But I put a hold on it. I figured we better not miss a single bet.”
“What do you mean, George?”
“What I mean is the old man probably just croaked. But Carleson used to visit him just about every day.”
“Is there any indication it wasn’t natural causes?”
“Well, no. But I didn’t want to take any chances.…”
“So what’ve you done?”
“I sent the body to the morgue. Asked Doc Moellmann to give it top priority.” In the face of Kleimer’s silence, Quirt began to have doubts. “You got a problem with any of this—what I’ve done?”
“No, no, George. You’re absolutely right. We shouldn’t overlook anything.
“By the way, while I’ve got you on the line, did you hear anything from Williams yet—from Maryknoll in New York?”
“No. Wasn’t he supposed to report to you?”
“Yeah, that’s right. But I haven’t heard from him. I thought maybe you had—”
“Nope, not a word.”
“Okay. Keep me posted.”
Kleimer hung up.
“The big question is: Is he gonna live?” Mangiapane wanted to know.
Tully’s mouth tightened. “The answer is: I don’t know.”
“It was the easiest bust I ever was on.”
“Yeah, it’s not hard to bring ’em in when they’re half dead.”
Tully and Mangiapane had gone to the Lafayette address, a house in the shadow of Ste. Anne’s church. There were three occupants, a man and two young women. All were unconscious. The officers were able to rouse one of the women sufficiently for her to identify herself and the other two. The man was, indeed, Julio Ramirez.
Two EMS vans transported all three to Receiving Hospital. All three were placed under arrest and a police guard was assigned to them. The women, Estella and Victoria Sanchez, were sisters. The prognosis for Victoria—Vicki—was guarded. She was labeled “serious.” Estella drifted in and out of consciousness. She it was who identified everyone.
Julio was critical. The ER staff feverishly bent every effort to save him.
According to Estella, Julio somehow had come into a ton of money sometime Sunday or Monday. Enough to afford more crack cocaine and heroin than the women had ever seen in one user’s possession. The three of them had leisurely proceeded to get higher than she’d ever been. She could only guess that, after she had passed out, Vicki had kept at it.