Chapter 17–Tuesday, 3:00PM

The CSI van was just rolling out into the street when he reached his car door. He heard car doors slamming a row or two away in the parking lot. Two cars roared to life a second later. That would be VBI. Herb paused, his door half open. Forget the sky! Life is good! He thought. The chief dropped into his seat and pulled the door shut. Monica was already seated on her side. She smiled as she buckled her belt. “Safety first,” she said.

“Of course,” the chief agreed. He put the car in gear and exited the lot, squealing his tires as he turned too sharply. A flip of a switch and his lights and siren came to life.

Twelve minutes later, the chief and his guest pulled up at Hackberry and Hazel. Car 12 was sitting in front of the store’s front entrance, lights flashing. Parsley and Jones, 12’s officers, were standing at attention watching all who approached the building. The two were a comical pair. Parsley, thin, frail and green. Jones, a yellowish squash of larger-than-average girth. Neither was an exceptionally good officer, but they could handle police tape. They’d cordoned off a large area around the phone.

Just outside the tape, Truman had the rear doors of the mobile lab open. Jordan was inside handing equipment to Truman. Herb saw Harry and S rounding the corner of the market headed toward the back. Monica was ahead of him, walking toward the guarded pay phone.

“Hey,” Herb shouted, as she bent to slip under the tape. Monica straightened and turned, stood stalk still. Her leaves waved in the breeze.

“Yes,” she said.

“Oh. Um. Wait for me,” he stammered. “We’re in this one together.”

She smiled as he approached. “Yes, we are. Your guys were great in the lab.”

“Couldn’t have done it with out Capote and the others,” Herb added. He lifted the tape for her. Monica ducked under and he followed. “What are your agents doing out back?” he asked.

“They’re checking escape routes,” Monica answered, while pulling on rubber gloves. “They always assume a criminal who uses a pay phone doesn’t want to be seen making the call. The only way to make a call here without being seen is to sneak around from the back, make the call a quick one and then retrace your steps.”

“The only way to go undetected here,” Herb corrected, “would be to not make a call at all.”

Monica looked up from the phone which she’d been examining. Herb was staring at the canopy over the pumps. “Video security,” she said. “Let’s hope they still have Monday’s tape.”

“Truman!” Herb yelled, his eyes still fixed on the surveillance camera.

“No need to shout, sir. I’m right here.” Truman and Jordan were ducking under the tape when Herb turned toward his tech’s voice.

“There’s a camera.” Herb pointed.

“Yes, sir,” Truman agreed, glancing in the direction of the dark mirrored half sphere his chief was indicating. “I heard your conversation. It’s not likely Monday’s tape is here, but it’s probably somewhere. Most businesses have a contract with SecurCam or some other company. There old tapes are kept for a month or two in a vault and then erased.”

Herb turned to the nearest beet officer. “Parsley, you’re with me. I think we have enough people inside the tape to guard the phone.”

“Yes, sir,” Parsley said in is usual monotone. Parsley was such a bland man. Did his job, but with little enthusiasm.

The two headed for the front door.