بخش 05 - فصل 11

11 As the ATF strike force, led by Agent Kosinsky, begins its inventory of the cavernous storage area behind King Virtue Pawn & Loan’s humble

façade, a gray Mercedes sedan is pulling to the curb in front of 49 Elm Street. Hodges is behind the wheel. Today Holly is riding shotgun–because, she claims (with at least some logic), the car is more hers than theirs. “Someone is home,” she points out. “There’s a very badly maintained Honda Civic in the driveway.”

Hodges notes the shuffling approach of an old man from the house directly across the street. “I will now speak with Mr. Concerned Citizen. You two will keep your mouths shut.” He rolls down his window. “Help you, sir?” “I thought maybe I could help you,” the old guy says. His bright eyes are busy

inventorying Hodges and his passengers. Also the car, which doesn’t surprise Hodges. It’s a mighty fine car. “If you’re looking for Brady, you’re out of luck. That in the driveway is Missus Hartsfield’s car. Haven’t seen it move in weeks. Not sure it even runs anymore. Maybe Missus Hartsfield went off with him, because I haven’t seen her today. Usually I do,

when she toddles out to get her post.” He points to the mailbox beside the door of 49. “She likes the catalogs. Most women do.” He extends a knuckly hand. “Hank Beeson.” Hodges shakes it briefly, then flashes his ID, careful to keep his thumb over the expiration date. “Good to meet you, Mr. Beeson. I’m Detective Bill Hodges. Can you tell me

what kind of car Mr. Hartsfield drives? Make and model?” “It’s a brown Subaru. Can’t help you with the model or the year. All those rice-burners look the same to me.” “Uh-huh. Have to ask you to go back to your house now, sir. We may come by to ask you a few questions later.” “Did Brady do something wrong?”

“Just a routine call,” Hodges says. “Go on back to your house, please.” Instead of doing that, Beeson bends lower for a look at Jerome. “Aren’t you kinda young to be on the cops?” “I’m a trainee,” Jerome says. “Better do as Detective Hodges says, sir.” “I’m goin, I’m goin.” But he gives the trio another stem-

to-stern onceover first. “Since when do city cops drive around in Mercedes-Benzes?” Hodges has no answer for that, but Holly does. “It’s a RICO car. RICO stands for Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations. We take their stuff. We can use it any way we want because we’re the police.”

“Well, yeah. Sure. Stands to reason.” Beeson looks partly satisfied and partly mystified. But he goes back to his house, where he soon appears to them again, this time looking out a front window. “RICO is the feds,” Hodges says mildly. Holly tips her head fractionally toward their observer, and there’s a faint

smile on her hard-used lips. “Do you think he knows that?” When neither of them answers, she becomes businesslike. “What do we do now?” “If Hartsfield’s in there, I’m going to make a citizen’s arrest. If he’s not but his mother is, I’m going to interview her. You two are going to stay in the car.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Jerome says, but by the expression on his face– Hodges can see it in the rearview mirror–he knows this objection will be overruled. “It’s the only one I have,” Hodges says. He gets out of the car. Before he can close the door, Holly leans toward him and

says: “There’s no one home.” He doesn’t say anything, but she nods as if he had. “Can’t you feel it?” Actually, he can.