Mortal Prey

friends?”
    “Nobody. Not many people even remembered her. The family was sorta…isolated.”
    “Huh.” Lucas thought about it, then asked Andreno, “What do you think?”
    “What else have we got?”
    “Maybe our friend the phone guy,” Lucas suggested.
    “We could try him again. If we don’t get anything, it’s about three hours down to Tisdale. We can go down late tonight, after we talk to Levy, poke around tomorrow morning, stop at the Bass Pro Shops store, and still get back by early afternoon.”
    “Gotta think about it,” Lucas said. To Malone: “And you gotta think about cutting Gene loose. There’s nothing there. He could use some…help.”
    “This whole thing will resolve itself in the next week or so,” Malone said. “We’ve got so many people looking that we’ll either turn Rinker up, or she’ll leave. When it’s resolved…yeah, we’ll probably cut him loose. If we don’t catch her here, we’ll let him go and keep an eye on him for a few months, see if he has any visitors.”
     
    THEY DEFLECTED MALONE’S curiosity about the phone guy. She made a call, talked to Mallard for a few minutes, lifted her face away from the receiver to tell Lucas that they’d rendezvous in Central West End at seven o’clock, and go from there to Levy’s. Levy, according to his watchers, usually worked late at his office and got home sometime after six o’clock. “Louis wants to find a place to eat before we go in.” She looked at Andreno.
    Andreno thought about it for a second, then brightened. “Perfect spot. Tell him there’s a place called the Black Lantern, five-minute walk from Levy’s place. Steak joint. Good salads. Good martinis. We’ve got just enough time to eat comfortable.”
    Malone relayed the information, listened for a moment, then said goodbye and hung up. She told Lucas, “He says you’re supposed to call Marcy at your office. She says it’s semi-urgent.”
    When they got out on the sidewalk, Lucas used his cell phone to dial the office in Mineapolis. Black picked up, then switched him over to Marcy. “What’s up?” Lucas asked.
    “A columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch called here, trying to get you. He says that Rinker called him this afternoon and gave you as a reference for some stuff she told him. He says he’s pretty sure it’s Rinker who called.”
    “Gave me as a reference?”
    “Yeah. Whoever this is, she told him that she talked to you,” Marcy said.
    “She did. She said she was you.”
    “What? Tell me…” And in the background, Lucas could hear her say to Black, “She called him. She said she was me.” She sounded thrilled to have been touched by a celebrity.
    “I’ll talk to you later,” Lucas said. “What’s this news guy’s name and number?”
    “His name’s Sandy White….”
    Lucas jotted the name and number in the palm of his hand, rang off, and told Malone and Andreno what had happened.
    “Jesus,” Andreno said. “Who’s running this operation, the FBI or Rinker?”
    “There seems to be some disagreement about that,” Malone said.
    “So do I talk to White?” Lucas asked. “You make the call.”
    “We’ll have somebody else talk to him. I’ll call Louis on the way down to Central West End,” Malone said. “That way, White can’t push you, because our guy can deny knowing too much about it. And we find out what she said.”
     
    THE BLACK LANTERN was an old-style steak house, set a few steps below street level and smelling of sizzling beef fat and beer. Mallard had already taken a table, and was reading a menu the size of a wall calendar.
    Lucas introduced him to Andreno, and Mallard asked, “Does anybody read this guy Sandy White?”
    “Probably not more than half the people in St. Louis,” Andreno said. “He’s got a job as a TV editorial guy, too, so he’ll have that going, along with the column.”
    “Goddamnit,” Mallard grumbled. “I talked to him. Rinker called him, all right. He’s running a piece tomorrow, warning us off her brother. White talked to a cop somewhere and got Gene Rinker’s arrest record, and they know we’re holding him on simple possession.”
    “One good thing about it,” Lucas said, as he studied the menu.
    “Tell me, please.”
    “If somebody gets screwed for this, it’s gonna be you, not me,” Lucas said.
    Andreno nodded and said, “Got that straight.”
    They ordered wine, and Malone told Mallard about the interview with Gene Rinker, and then Mallard and Malone