Perfect Killer by Robb T. White

Author:Robb T. White [White, Robb T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719824616
Goodreads: 35606442
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 2017-10-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

JADE WAS BACK TO composing her resignation letter, but the words wouldn’t come easily. She still loved the action and the chase. How could she give that up for tort law?

It has been a distinct pleasure to serve under your leadership as my senior supervisor …

Rats. Phooey. Nonsense. Even lemmings committing suicide in the ocean wouldn’t follow any of her last two supervisors if they did reverse twists off a cliff in the Arctic at the same time.

Gilker put his size eleven boots all over her report, requesting further investigation of the Arkansas and Pittsburgh crimes. He stamped No Further Action At This Time. Before Great Falls claimed her, he had some work in mind, terrorism duty: background investigations, surveillance of an Arab-American enclaves, liaising with cybercrimes, and attending conferences with Homeland Security’s own version of gypsy workshop artists and their dubious PowerPoints.

Cee’s call blew that dismal prospect out of her head like fresh air pumped into a tunnel.

‘You ready for this?’

‘Hit me,’ Jade said and held her breath.

‘Buffalo field office just came through for you, and I mean big time. They faxed us a copy of an assault charge. Perp’s name is Theodore Wassermann, two Ns. He was picked up four days ago at a campground and booked for assault and battery.’

‘Height, weight?’

‘Getting to that, getting to it, let me see—yes. Here it is. Caucasian, thirtyfour, brown and brown, 190, five-eleven.’

‘He fits. Now give me the good part,’ Jade said.

‘Hell’s bells, I was going to string that out,’ Shaughnessy said.

‘Shaughnessy—’

‘OK, keep your blouse on. Driving a food truck, white, Chevrolet, older model. Registered to Wassermann, Theodore, plates come back—stolen from a Montana used car lot!’

‘You can’t see me,’ Jade said, ‘but I am jumping for joy. Let there be a God. No priors, right? The name’s a fake.’ She said the last with the intonation of a hopeful question.

‘Yes to the first, no to the second—so far.’

Wassermann’s name stood a check with a last known address to a house in Kansas City. Shaughnessy called KC cops and asked them to do a phony welfare check; an hour later, they called back to say no one with that name ever lived at that address as far as the current owner knew.

Shaughnessy said, ‘Before you ask, the homeowner is legit, been at that residence for the last twelve years.’

‘Tax records for this Wassermann?’

‘Jackpot,’ Shaughnessy said. ‘Zilch. No such person registered to any Wassermann Food Service—that’s the name on the papers. But the name on the truck said Leo’s or Lou’s. Some kid in a campground outside Buffalo where Wassermann was staying told the detectives the guy was a “weirdo freak” and nearly knocked some guy’s head off there.’

‘That surprises me,’ Jade said. ‘The sandwich man reeks of control.’

‘Here’s the bad news. State police put a hold on him, but they were too late by hours. Out on bail and skipped yesterday, truck and all.’

‘We need his lawyer,’ Jade said.

‘His lawyer is consulting a lawyer before making a statement to police,’ Shaughnessy said.

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