Dark of the Moon

talking about tons of it. The profits wouldn’t be two dollars a quart. The profits would be astronomical. You’d need quite a bit of up-front money…”
    “From the Judd money bin. And you’d need a distribution network.”
    “From Feur, if he’s really involved in it.”
    They looked at each other, and Virgil said, “Let’s check back at the hotel. Maybe Davenport’s guy got me something.”
     
    D AVENPORT ’ S GUY WAS Louis Mallard, who was something large in the FBI. He sent along a single paragraph: “A Rev. George Feur of the first Archangelus Church of the Revelation was one of a number of people under surveillance in Salt Lake City and in Coeur d’Alene for his association with extremist antigovernment groups like the Corps. The Corps was known to distribute drugs, including cocaine and methamphetamine, to finance its activities and for the purchase of weapons. Surveillance was terminated after three months with no evidence of Feur’s involvement in illegal activities, although he had extensive connections with people who were involved in illegal activities.”
    “That’s it,” Stryker said. “He’s involved. He’s got the connections.”
    “What about Roman Schmidt and the Gleasons?” Virgil asked.
    “I don’t know about the Gleasons—except that they had some contact with Feur. There was that Book of Revelation. Maybe they were investors. Roman…”
    “What?”
    “Roman was pals with Big and Little Curly,” Stryker said. “Guess who patrols west county?”
    “Big and Little Curly?”
    “That’s their country out there,” Stryker said. “They know it like nobody else. If you were moving a lot of meth around, it’d be useful to have a lookout with the sheriff’s department.”
    “Hate to think it,” Virgil said.
    “So would I,” Stryker said. “I’d rather lose the election than find that out.”
     
    T HEY SAT STARING at the laptop screen for a couple of minutes, then Virgil asked, “What’re you doing tonight?”
    “Thought I’d go see Jesse,” Stryker said. “I’ve got something going, there. I don’t know…but the case comes first. What do you have in mind?”
    “I don’t want to talk to the Curlys. I’m thinking we might want to do some trespassing. Feur and Judd have the ethanol plant over in SoDak, so what’s his farm all about? What I’m thinking is, it’s the distribution center. He’s way out in the countryside, he has those religious services, there are strangers coming and going from all over the place, not unexpected with that kind of church…might be when they move the stuff. Lots of guys in trucks.”
    “If we’re gonna do it, best to do it late,” Stryker said, looking at his watch. “It’s almost four, now.”
    “I wouldn’t ask, but I’d be a little worried going out there without some backup,” Virgil said.
    “Wait until the town goes to sleep…and move,” Stryker said. “Meet me at my place at one in the morning?”
    “See you then. You might bring some serious hardware,” Virgil said.
    Stryker nodded. “I’ll do that. Feur’s boys have some heavy weapons out there.”
    “One good thing,” Virgil said, after another minute.
    “What’s that.”
    “You’ll still get to see Jesse.”
    “She’s got me if she wants me,” Stryker said. He seemed puzzled by it all. “I looked in her eyes last night, in that candlelight, and I thought my heart was gonna explode.”
    “Where’re you going tonight?” Virgil asked.
    Stryker shrugged: “I don’t know. Jesus, thinking of someplace interesting just about kills you. I can’t take her out to the club. I’m afraid to go to Tijuana Jack’s or anyplace in Worthington—it’s just too close, and I really don’t want to be seen out on the town. Not yet.”
    “Life sucks, then you die.”
    “Easy on the die stuff,” Stryker said. “I’m a little nervous about sneaking up on Feur.”

13
    V IRGIL WAS STUCK. With the accountant working the records, he had nothing to do until four, and then he had a date—and the date wasn’t going to help with the investigation. On the other hand, wandering around town wouldn’t help much, either.
    Time to talk to Judd? And look at other names in his notebook? Suzanne Reynolds, the overweight ex–sex groupie?
    Judd first.
     
    H E WENT DOWNTOWN; a guy at the SuperAmerica, gassing his truck, waved at him, and Virgil waved back. Parked in front of the Great Plains Bank & Trust, looked at a Red Wing jug in the window of an