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140 South Broad Street, Philadelphia Wednesday, September 9, 9:45 P.M.
“Good evening,” Byrth said as he held the microphone and began addressing the audience. “It’s an honor to be in your city and here at the Union League. I hesitate to use the word ‘pleasure.’ If you had been with Sergeant Payne and Detective Harris and me an hour ago, I know you would understand my reluctance.
“So I will start with that. I came here hunting an evil man. We do know that he’s a drug trafficker. And that he’s Hispanic, preying mostly on illegal immigrants. He knows they fear the police and other authority due to their being in America illegally. And, among his other heinous acts, he has the horrific habit of cutting off the heads of family members of those who in some way have crossed him.”
He gestured to the table at the back of the room. “Sergeant Payne, Detective Harris, and I just came from the Medical Examiner’s Office. The autopsy had just been performed on the young Hispanic woman who had been beheaded. As horrible as the description sounds, I am here to tell you that witness ing such horrific abuse of a human being is manifoldly worse. It affects one in ways unimaginable. Even Dr. Mitchell, who in the course of his duties I’m sure has witnessed more than most of us can begin to consider, said he was deeply affected by the young woman’s murder.
“The animal-” Byrth caught himself. “Excuse me. The suspect who we believe committed this atrocity is up to something else in your city. We have evidence that this particular drug trafficker has also begun bringing to Philly what he started in Dallas. That is to say, the sale of a drug that combines a cold medicine with heroin. Its street name is ‘cheese’-and this guy markets his variety with a snappy blue logo under the catchy brand name ‘Queso Azul,’ or Blue Cheese. It’s particularly heinous because he targets kids as young as middle-school age. Two dollars a hit-and then they’re hooked on heroin.”
This news triggered more murmurs in the crowd.
An attractive young woman in a striped pantsuit was seated just to Byrth’s right. She raised her left hand. Byrth could not help but notice the giant gleaming diamond wedding ring. She held a pen and small piece of paper in her right hand.
“Sergeant, how do you spell that?”
Byrth spelled Queso Azul, and the young woman thanked him as she wrote it down.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Byrth then saw a hand go up at one of the back tables.
I guess we’re already into the Q amp; A.
But Matt did say this was a loosely structured meeting.
The hand belonged to the friend of the inbred one, the bearded one.
“Yes, ma’am?” Byrth said. “I mean, sir?”
The bearded one stood. He had a look that was antagonistic.
Small wonder.
We hardly became buddies earlier.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Stanton Hargrove-”
“You’re a medical doctor, sir? Pardon the interruption. Everyone here is new to me.”
“I have a double Ph.D.,” he said with obvious pride. “I chair Marsupialia Studies in the Biology Department at Bryn Mawr.”
“ ‘Ph.D.’?” Byrth repeated. “Of course. And the order Marsupialia? Aren’t those the pouched mammals. Right? Kangaroos, bandicoots-”
“Yes, they are,” Hargrove interrupted, clearly pleased someone recognized his chosen field of work.
“-opossums?” Byrth finished. “We have opossums in Texas.”
“Yes,” he replied, a bit bewildered. “And opossums.”
There were muffled chuckles in the crowd.
This pompous ass wants to be called “doctor.”
He doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to be a real doctor, one like Mitchell.
I’m damn sure not going to give him the satisfaction.
“Thank you, sir, for clarifying that for me,” Byrth said. “And your question?”
