The Fool's Run
stuff on Anshiser and associates.
Already got most of it.
Got access to criminal intelligence data banks, FBI?
No. Tried once. Maximum protection.
How about NCIC?
Easy access if got codes. Need codes.
Who got codes?
I find. Call back later. Want mob clips now?
He dumped the clips to the computer. There weren’t many of them, but there was enough information to suggest that Anshiser’s father was a major crime figure. Exactly what he did was unclear from the clips. I had just finished reading the clips when Bobby called again. He had a name.
When LuEllen woke the next morning, she smiled, a small tentative smile, the first one I’d seen since the shooting.
“I don’t know how to break it to you,” I said.
“What happened?” she asked, quickly serious.
“We’ve got to hit another house. We need some more codes.” I told her about the background on Anshiser’s father. “We need to get into some crime intelligence files. Bobby found a guy for us. He goes into the NCIC—the National Crime Information Center—from his home computer.”
“Uh, is this guy . . .”
“Yeah. He’s a cop.”
Chapter 16
T HE COP WAS named Denton. He was the liaison man between the Washington police and the National Crime Information Center, supervising computer-entry work for the city.
“I’ve never hit a cop before,” LuEllen said. She was worried.
“It shouldn’t be any worse than the others. Maybe he’ll have better locks.”
We were leaving Gettysburg. We could see blue sky to the south and west, but the town was still under a dark slab of cloud, and it was raining again. A semitrailer ahead of us on the highway threw up a plume of water and resolutely fought off attempts by the cars behind him to pass. We slowed to fifty, then to forty-five, and settled down for a long trip.
“There might be another problem,” LuEllen said. “When Dace and I were going around town, I didn’t see many white cops. If he’s black and he lives in a black neighborhood, everybody on the block will be looking at us.”
“Bobby says he’s black, all right, but he and his wife live out in Bethesda,” I said. “She’s got a heavy job with the Commerce Department, and he’s a lieutenant, so they’ve got a few bucks.”
“We need this, right?” asked LuEllen.
“Yeah. We have to know what’s going on.”
“All right. But if we wind up in deep shit, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
WHEN WE GOT to Bethesda, the sun was shining and the clouds were blowing out to the northeast. The streets were still damp, with dead oak leaves stuck to them, and everything smelled cool and clean.
The Dentons lived in a low, dark, wood-and-stone house on a lot with tall trees in the back and a narrow, sloping front yard. There were no extra-green tufts of grass. Basement windows were set into the foundation, and the garage was attached to the left side of the house as you approached it. Beside the garage, a tall, gray, board fence separated the Dentons’ yard from the one next door.
“Look at that fence. Must not like their black neighbors,” I said as we cruised by the first time.
“That’s a pool fence,” LuEllen said matter-offactly. “There’s a swimming pool back there, in the neighbors’ yard. There’s a law about putting fences around your pools to keep kids out.”
We drove past once more. Everything about the house was neat and in good repair.
“They’ve got money, all right,” I said. “Maybe we ought to check them out for a maid.”
“No black cop in the world has a maid, not if he wants to get ahead. Let’s find a phone. Let’s call them, and if they’re working, let’s do it. Today. Right now.”
“You sure?”
“Goddamned right I’m sure.” She sounded fierce, tight, angry. I looked her over and slowed the car.
“If you’re doing it because you’re scared, or pissed about Dace, that’s not good enough. It won’t help him if we’re busted or shot,” I said.
“I’m scared, and I’m pissed about Dace, but I’m not crazy,” she said, looking across the seat at me. “The house feels right. There’s nobody home. There’s hardly anybody on the street. This is the time.”
I took a left at the first street and drove to a shopping center. She dipped into her purse for cocaine and took the first hit as we pulled up to a phone.
We got Mrs. Denton’s secretary, but Mrs. Denton was in a meeting and couldn’t speak to us. We left a message.
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