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"Hell," Sachs spat out into the microphone, "there's a reward, Rhyme."
"Oh, no. Last thing we need."
Of the major factors contaminating crime scenes and hampering investigations, reward and souvenir seekers are among the worst.
Culbeau explained, "Mary Beth's mom's offering it. That woman's got some money and I'll bet by nightfall, the girl's still not back, she'll be offering two thousand. Maybe more." He then looked at Sachs. "I'm not gonna cause any trouble, miss. You're not from here and you lookit me and think I must be just bad pay--I heard you talking 'bout Deliverance in that fancy radio gear of yours. I liked the book better'n the movie, by the way. You ever read it? Well, don't matter. Just don't go puttin' too much stock in appearances. Jesse, tell her who rescued that girl gone missing in the Great Dismal last year. Who ever-body knew was gone to snakes and skeeters and the whole county tore up about it."
Jesse said, "Rich and Harris Tomel found her. Three days lost in the swamp. She'd've died, it wasn't for them."
"Was me mostly," Culbeau muttered. "Harris don't like gettin' his boots dirty."
"That was good of you," Sachs said stiffly. "I just want to make sure you don't hurt our chances of finding those women."
"That's not gonna happen. There's no reason for you to get all ashy on me." Culbeau turned and lumbered away.
"Ashy?" Sachs asked.
"Means angry, you know."
She told Rhyme and told him about the encounter.
He dismissed it. "We don't have time to worry about the locals, Sachs. We've got to get on the trail. And fast. Get back here with what you've found."
As they sat in the boat on the way back over the canal Sachs asked, "How much trouble's he gonna be?"
"Culbeau?" Lucy responded. "He's lazy mostly. Smokes dope and drinks too much but he's never done worse than broke some jaws in public. We think he's got a still someplace and, even for a thousand bucks, I can't imagine him getting too far from it."
"What do he and his two cronies do?"
Jesse asked, "Oh, you saw them too? Well, Sean--that's the skinny one--and Rich don't have what you'd call real jobs. Scavenge and do day labor some. Harris Tomel's been to college--a couple years anyway. He's always trying to buy a business or put some deal together. Nothing ever pays out that I heard of. But all three of those boys have money and that means they're running 'shine."
"Moonshine? You don't bust 'em?"
After a moment Jesse said, "Sometimes, down here, you go lookin' for trouble. Sometimes you don't."
Which was a bit of law enforcement philosophy that, Sachs knew, was hardly limited to the South.
They landed again on the south shore of the river, beside the crime scenes, and Sachs climbed out before Jesse could offer his hand, which he did anyway.
Suddenly a huge, dark shape came into view. A black motorized barge, forty feet long, eased down the canal, then passed them and headed into the river. She read on the side: DAVETT INDUSTRIES.
Sachs asked, "What's that?"
Lucy answered, "A company outside of town. They move shipments up the Intracoastal through the Dismal Swamp Canal and into Norfolk. Asphalt, tar paper, stuff like that."
Rhyme had heard this through the radio and said, "Let's ask if there was a shipment around the time of the killing. Get the name of the crew."
Sachs mentioned this to Lucy but she said, "I already did that. One of the first things Jim and I did." Her answer was clipped. "It was a negative. If you're interested we also canvassed everybody in town normally makes the commute along Canal Road and Route 112 here. Wasn't any help."
"That was a good idea," Sachs said.
"Just standard procedure," Lucy said coolly and strode back to her car like a homely girl in high school who'd finally managed to fling a searing put-down at the head cheerleader.
... chapter seven
"I'm not letting him do anything until you get an air conditioner in here."
"Thom, we don't have time for this," Rhyme spat out. Then told the workmen where to unload the instruments that had arrived from the state police.
