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“It was a dead end,” Cody had to admit. He frowned thoughtfully. “She said she left her prowler at a cousin’s house and drove his sports car here to have coffee with me the other day.” He glanced at the other man. “I wonder if she does have a relation here?”
He went to his office and looked up a local number. He phoned it. One of his deputies lived near the small rental house occupied by Jack Owens, attorney James Owens’s nephew. “Hey, Bob,” he said when his officer answered, “I’ve got a quest for you.”
“Hot dog,” the officer replied. “What do I get for this quest? Better armor? A bigger sword? Or gold...?”
“You get substandard pay and a pat on the back. If you find out anything, I’ll make it two pats on the back,” Cody said. “So you’re still knee-deep in that fantasy computer game, I see.”
“It’s great. I’m so glad I discovered it,” the man raved. “Of course, I don’t eat or sleep, but who cares? I went up ten levels in one day!”
Cody laughed in spite of himself. “Good for you.”
“What do you want me to do? Need me to come in?”
“No need. I want you to drive by Jack Owens’s rental house and see if there’s a green convertible sports car parked in the driveway.”
“I wish it was parked in my driveway,” Bob sighed. “I’d go racing.”
“Not in my county, you wouldn’t,” Cody retorted. “Get going.”
“I’ll rush right past it. I need gas in my civilian car anyway.”
“Good man. Call me if you see anything.”
“Will do.”
CODYANDLASSITERhad a long discussion about computers and how they worked while they waited for the phone to ring. Which it finally did.
“Boss?” Bob said when Cody answered.
“Well?” Cody prompted. “Was it there? A little green sports car?”
“Yes, sir,” Bob replied. “And guess what else was there?”
“Tell me!”
“That so-called witness who put Mr. Whatley in jail, apparently living there,” Bob said, a grin in his voice. “Two of them were outside shoveling snow so they could get the car out of the driveway. That’s going to take a while, too, with it coming down in buckets now. So how’s that for catching some fish?” he asked on a quick laugh.
“I’ll promote you when we both join the French Foreign Legion and I’m an officer,” Cody promised. “Meanwhile, I owe you two pats on the back. Feel free to collect them any time,” he added, and hung up.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CODYFELTTHAT, finally, all the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. He called Dan Brady, the police chief in Lake Luna, Florida, who was deeply involved in the Bobby Grant case.
“Do you know where Bobby Grant is?” Cody asked at once.
“Oh, I hope you have a really good reason for asking,” the chief replied. “Do you?”
“Poison,” he said. “Candy Henry was poisoned. So was Horace Whatley, again, but this time we know what poison was used.” He described it.
“A rare plant in South America. Why does that sound familiar...oh, yes, that blonde I told you about, who was thick with Bobby Grant, her dad’s a botanist. He’s from Manaus, I think, deep in the Amazon.”
“A botanist.” Cody smiled.
“I know exactly where Bobby Grant is, and we’ve got him under constant surveillance.”
“You must have a really nice city manager, with all that overtime,” Cody remarked.
“Not at all,” Dan chuckled. “I have a few friends that most people wouldn’t want to meet. They’re helping out while they’re between missions.”
