They were on the way a half hour later. McCaleb brought a duffel bag with a change of clothes and everything else he would need for his trip. He also brought a thermos of coffee and two cups. He poured coffee and filled Buddy in on the case and all that had happened while they drove. Buddy asked questions for most of the drive.
“I guess I’ll have to buy a paper tomorrow,” he said.
“It will probably be on TV, too.”
“Hey, is it going to be a book? Will I be in it?”
“I don’t know. The story will probably hit the news today. I guess it depends on how big a story it is before anybody decides on a book.”
“Do they pay you to use your name like that? In a book, I mean. Or like in a movie?”
“I don’t know. I guess you could ask for something. You were an important part. You came up with that missing picture in Cordell’s car.”
“That’s right, I did.”
Lockridge seemed proud of his part and the prospect of possibly making some money from it.
“And the gun. I found the gun that prick hid under the boat.”
McCaleb frowned.
“You know what, Buddy? If there’s ever a book or if any reporters or cops come around, I would like it a lot better if you never mentioned that gun. That would help me a lot.”
Lockridge glanced over at him and then back at the road.
“No problem, then. I won’t say a word.”
“Good. Unless I tell you otherwise. And if anybody comes to me about a book, I’ll be sure to tell ’em to talk to you.”
“Thanks, man.”
It was after nine by the time they fought through all the traffic to Whittier. McCaleb had Lockridge stop by a Bank of America branch while he went in and wrote a check for $1,000, taking the cash in twenties and tens.
A few minutes later the Taurus pulled into the Star Center parking lot. McCaleb counted out $250 and handed it to Lockridge.
“What’s this for?”
“That’s for letting me use the car and for the ride today. Also, I’m going to be away for a few days. Will you keep an eye on the boat for me?”
“Will do, man. Where you going?”
“Not sure yet. And I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“That’s okay. Two-fifty goes a long way.”
“Remember that woman who visited me? The pretty one?”
“Sure.”
“I’m hoping she’ll come by the boat looking for me. Watch for her.”
“Okay. What do I do if she shows up?”
McCaleb thought a moment.
“Just tell her I’m still gone but that I was hoping she’d come by.”
McCaleb opened the car door. Before getting out, he shook Lockridge’s hand and told him again that he had been a lot of help.
“Okay, I’m out of here.”
“Sure thing, man, have a good one.”
“Oh, hey, know what? I’ll probably be doing a lot of driving. You mind if I borrow one of those harps you got?”
“Take your pick.”
He fished around in the door storage pocket and came out with three harmonicas. McCaleb picked the one he had been playing during the drive the other night along the coast highway.
“That’s a good one. You start with the key of C.”
“Thanks, Buddy.”
“You sure took your sweet-ass time,” Winston said as McCaleb walked up to her desk. “I’ve been wondering where the hell you’ve been.”
“I’ve been dicking around at the impound yard for an hour,” McCaleb responded. “I can’t believe you people. You take my car on a bullshit warrant and
“Look, just be lucky they didn’t lose it and you got it back in one piece. Have a seat. I’m not quite ready.”
“Then what’re you complaining about me being late for?”
She didn’t answer. McCaleb took the chair at the side of her desk and watched as she went through a typed report, apparently proofreading and then initialing the bottom of each page.
“Okay,” she said. “I was going to use one of the interview rooms. The tape’s already set up. Shall we?”
“Wait a sec. What’s happened since last night?”
“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t been around.”
“You get any prints off the light tubes?”
She broke into a smile and nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” McCaleb protested. “What did you get?”
“Everything. Two palms, both thumbs, four fingers. We put it on the box and got a hit. Our boy is local. Name is Daniel Crimmins, thirty-two years old. And you remember that profile you did for the Code Killer task force? Well you were dead-on, McCaleb. A slam dunk.”
McCaleb was beside himself with energy, though he outwardly tried to remain calm. The last pieces of the puzzle were dropping into place. He tried to recall the suspect’s name from the case files but drew a blank.
“Tell me.”
“He was an LAPD Academy washout. That was five years ago. As near as we can tell, since then he’s had a number of private security jobs. I don’t mean tin badge stuff. Computer stuff. He advertised on the Internet, had a web page, sent mailers to businesses. He basically sold computer security. We’re hearing that he sometimes got work by hacking into a company’s computer and then sending the CEO E-mail telling him how easy it was and why they should hire him to make their system hack-proof.”
“BOPRA?”
