Deep Purple Cover by Joel W. Barrows

Author:Joel W. Barrows
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

CHAPTER 39

9:08 a.m., Thursday, September 22, Amato Freight Lines Corporate Headquarters, Sacramento, California

Adler was glad that Estes had offered to come with. He was always an entertaining traveling companion.

“So, why don’t they call you Doble E?” Adler asked. “It has more panache.”

“I didn’t give myself the nickname, bro,” Estes replied. “I would have gone with something like Zorro.”

Adler laughed.

Amato Freight Lines was just up ahead. This was a hastily arranged trip after a call from Parks. Adler had no idea what sort of reception he would get. He had explained the reason for the visit. The company would either comply with his request or not. And if not, he wanted to gauge reaction. The plan was to talk to whoever was in charge and ask for GPS records for their trucks for the last two years. It was a big ask, and he wasn’t hopeful.

Adler drove through the gate and found a spot in front of the main office.

“Why, exactly, are we doing FBI’s bidding?” Estes asked before they got out.

“They don’t want to draw attention to their involvement,” Adler replied. What he didn’t say was that doing so made things more dangerous for Ward. That was Parks’s concern, and he agreed.

“Understood,” Estes said. “And we need the GPS records because every Mob case has a trucking angle.”

Adler eyed his partner, saying nothing. The guy figured shit out.

“Let’s go,” Adler said.

“Right behind you, bro.”

They entered the lobby. Adler approached the same receptionist he had encountered before and flashed his badge.

“Detective Joe Adler, Napa County Sheriff’s Office,” he announced.

“I recall,” the receptionist said, her smile forced.

“And this is Detective Enrique Estes.”

Estes gave her a nod.

“We’re here to see Griffin Cooper,” Adler said. He was told that Cooper had become the acting president of the company. Since Cooper called the shots, that’s who he had arranged to meet.

“Is he expecting you?”

“He is,” Adler replied.

“Have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

A few minutes later, two men approached. One had the appearance of a man who had gotten his hands dirty, driven truck, maybe come up through the ranks. Adler assumed he was Cooper. The other was a suit and had the look of someone who was about to explain. Adler guessed him to be the company lawyer.

“Detective Adler?”

Adler stood. “That would be me.”

“Griffin Cooper.” The man extended his hand. Adler had guessed right.

“I’m the acting president of Amato Freight Lines,” Cooper continued. “And this is our attorney, C. Barton Webb.”

“Mr. Webb,” Adler said, hand outstretched. The lawyer shook it, reluctantly, as if he might catch something.

Adler turned to his partner. “And this is Detective Estes.”

Estes shook Cooper’s hand and nodded at the attorney.

“So, I understand that you would like GPS records for our trucks,” Webb began.

The explanation was underway. “That’s correct,” Adler replied, “for the last two years.” He looked to Cooper. “I assume your trucks have GPS.”

“They do,” Webb answered. It was clear he intended to control the encounter. “May I ask why you need said records?”

Adler restrained himself from answering, you may not, you pompous fuck.

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