EQMM, May 2011 Read online

  * * * *

  Lieutenant Dan Manley checked his computer again for any new information on the arrest of Katie Pilsen, but as usual that early in the morning computer updates coming in from all twenty-five police districts in the city were backed up like morning traffic on the Dan Ryan Expressway. All the listing read was: pilsen, katherine eileen wf18 pending ip.

  Leaving his office, Manley walked down three floors to Central Booking's main computer-processing department. He found Officer Grace Murphy at her desk next to a grimy window that overlooked a grimy back alley. “Hey, Gracie,” Manley said.

  "Hey, Danny,” she said, looking up from her keyboard. She was a redhead, forty, high cheekbones, who never wore makeup, never needed to.

  "You still married?” Manley asked.

  "Yeah. You?"

  "Barely. We've got a court date for final divorce disposition in two weeks."

  "What is this, number three?"

  "Yeah. Want to get together sometime soon?"

  Grace Murphy sat back in her typing chair. “You wouldn't be looking for number four, would you, Dan?"

  "Not a bad idea. How about it?"

  She thought about it. “Well, Glenn and I don't exactly have a marriage made in heaven. I think we may have reached an impasse of some kind. So, okay. He works Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights next week. Take your pick.” Glenn, her husband, was a city firefighter.

  "I'll work something out,” Manley said, with a wink. “Listen, I know you're swamped in here but could you run a quick search for me?"

  "Only if it's a fugitive, terrorist act, or officer down. You know the rules, Dan."

  "Come on, Gracie. This is important to me."

  "How important?"

  "Important enough to maybe get me transferred from patrol to organized crime."

  Her hazel eyebrows went up. “Are you serious, Dan?"

  "Dead serious."

  Grace pushed a notepad across her desk and he wrote Katherine Eileen Pilsen's name on it. Grace then initiated a search engine that speed-scanned all incoming data not yet recorded. What she found and printed out for Manley was: pilsen, katherine eileen wf18 dui/drugs. traffic incident. report pending. offs d. ives, j. provo.

  That's a piece of luck, Manley thought. The primary report was in his own division.

  "Thanks, Gracie,” He gave her another wink. “I'll call you this weekend."

  * * * *

  An hour later, Manley had Officers Ives and Provo in his office, where he listened to a rundown on the traffic incident involving Katie Pilsen.

  There had been six teenagers in a Lexus van, three male, three female. The van was being driven erratically along Michigan Avenue and was pulled over in the 600 block. Katherine Eileen Pilsen was the driver. The van was registered to Diane Lee Pilsen. All six teenagers in the van appeared to be under the influence of a controlled substance. In plain view of the officers in the center seat of the van was a wooden mixing bowl containing a quantity of approximately four to five dozen pills and capsules of pharmaceutical types. Also in plain view was a six-pack of Blatz beer with three bottles left in it, and a second six-pack carton empty. All six subjects were taken into custody and a transport vehicle and two female officers were summoned. An ambulance was also called due to one of the female passengers, identified as Audrey Kane, white, age seventeen, being in a non-responsive unconscious condition.

  "Where was the Kane girl taken?"

  "Cook County Hospital Emergency."

  "And the others?"

  "Booked at Central pending transfer to juvenile detention. Except for the Pilsen girl, who was eighteen and booked as an adult."

  "The bowl of drugs?"

  "Tagged and given to the detective squad at Central."

  "All right. Good job, boys. Keep all this under your hats and if it turns out to be something special, I'll see that you both get a commendation for it."

  Dismissing the two patrol officers, Manley immediately dialed Leo Pilsen's home number.

  "Leo, it looks like Kate has been involved in a drug bust with five other kids. Has she had problems with drugs before?"

  "No, never!” Pilsen swore. “What kind of drugs? Pot, coke, what?"

  "Looks like prescription pills of some kind. Quite a lot of them. Enough for a felony charge."

  "Do you know where she is?"

  "She was booked at Central but she might have been moved to the criminal courts building by now for arraignment. I'll track her down, don't worry. Do you know an Audrey Kane?"

  "Yeah, she's a friend of Katie's. Why?"

  "She was in the group that was busted. Apparently she was unconscious and has been hospitalized."

  "Which hospital is she in?"

  "I don't know,” Manley lied. “I'll run that down, too. Listen, Leo, it wouldn't be smart for you or Diane to contact the Kane girl's parents. You need to stay as far away from this situation as possible, you understand?"

  "Yeah. Do you think anyone has figured out who she is?"

  "Not yet, far as I know. But it's only a matter of time. Maybe we can get her released before anybody tumbles to that."

  "Okay. Thanks for the advice, Danny. You're a good friend."

  "Anything for an old West End Duke,” Manley said.

  * * * *

  Manley met FBI agent Fred Summar at noon for lunch at Scarpi's, a cop hangout in Little Italy, and passed on to him all the information he had developed so far.

  "We need to get our hands on those pills,” he told Summar. “Are you tight with anybody at DEA?"

  "Leon Platt. You know him?"

  "No. You think he might want to get in on this with us?"

  "It's worth asking. He could establish a backdated file on Katherine Pilsen for suspicion of drug trafficking. Get a federal warrant to seize the drugs taken from the van."

  "Can you find out where and when the girl is going to be arraigned and arrange for a federal prosecutor to be there and move to have the case transferred to federal court?"

  "Yeah, I think I can handle that.” Summar paused. “You know we'll probably have to cut Platt in for a piece of the pie."

  Manley nodded. “Whatever we have to do, Fred, we do. Right?"

  "Copy that,” Fred Summar said. It was a favorite phrase of his. Everyone knew he had washed out of astronaut training before joining the bureau.

  * * * *

  Manley found the two detectives who had caught the drug bust. He knew both of them: Ralph Kenmare and Ned Garvan.

  "What's your interest in this?” Kenmare asked, without preliminary.

  "The girl's father and I are old friends,” Manley said truthfully, knowing that the two detectives were probably already aware of his relationship with Leo Pilsen, as many of his superiors in the department were. “I'm trying to do him a favor that will then be owed to the department."

  "Do you trust him that much? An Outfit man?"

  "I do,” Manley answered flatly. “Having Leo Pilsen owe us a favor is the next best thing to having an undercover officer in the Outfit. Whatever benefit it brings the department in the future will be significant.” He paused to let the two detectives think that over. Then he pointed out the obvious. “I could go to the chief of detectives, but then any future credit would go to him, not you."

  "We won't change any report that's already been made,” Kenmare said.

  "Naturally not. You have no way of knowing who's already read the reports. Anything you give me is strictly off the record."

  "But you cut us in for a piece of whatever it brings you?"

  "Guaranteed."

  The detectives took Manley into an interview room and turned off the audio-video system. Garvan did the talking.

  "From what we can figure, the six kids were on a medicine-cabinet scavenger hunt. You familiar with what that is?"

  "To some degree, but enlighten me."

  "Well, the old-fashioned teenage scavenger hunts involved them going out looking for common things, like a green button, a purple bow
, an argyle sock, a tennis ball, stuff like that. They went out in teams of two and they weren't allowed to buy anything; they had to get them from people they knew. First team to find all the things on the list won the game. It was all just clean fun."

  "But not this time,” Manley said.

  "No. This time it had to be stuff from people's medicine cabinets. One pill from every prescription medication in any medicine cabinet they could get access to. They hit the homes of relatives, friends, neighbors—anybody they could con into letting them use their bathrooms. They might even break into the homes of complete strangers. One pill out of every prescription bottle. At the end of the hunt, all of the pills went into a bowl, got mixed up, and then the kids would have a pill party. They'd get a couple of six-packs of beer, go somewhere, and start popping, one pill at a time, in turn; the only rule was that nobody could take the same color pill twice in a row. They'd keep it up until various drug interactions would kick in and they'd either get high or sick."

  "You think that's what the Pilsen girl and her friends were doing?"

  "We don't think, we know. They still had half a bowl of pills and part of a six-pack when the patrol guys pulled them over."

  Based on information he already had, Manley knew that the detectives were leveling with him. “Where's the evidence now?” he asked.

  "In the lab, being processed."

  "And the kids?"

  "Four of them, all minors, are in juvenile intake, puking their guts out. A fifth minor is in county hospital; they pumped her stomach and have her on a bunch of IVs, but she's still unconscious. Problem is, the doctors don't know exactly what she took."

  "The Pilsen girl?"

  "Central District intake. She's no longer a minor, as of eight days ago. She's puking her guts out too, last we heard."

  Manley paced around the tight little interview room, pulling at his lower lip. “How much of what you've just told me has been reported?"

  "Nothing. We haven't been able to interview any of them because they're all so sick. The only thing we've put in the system is what your patrol guys had in their arrest report."

  "How long before you figure to get preliminary interviews?"

  "Twenty-four hours, guessing."

  "Can you guess thirty-six?"

  The two detective partners exchanged glances. “If it's worthwhile,” Kenmare said.

  "And you won't forget us,” added Garvan.

  "It could be very worthwhile,” Manley predicted, “and you won't be forgotten,” he promised.

  * * * *

  At the Pilsen residence, Leo Pilsen's private line rang. The line had been privately installed, went through two independent switchboards, and was swept daily for taps. It was a call that Leo knew would be coming, and he dreaded it.

  "Hello—"

  "Mr. Pilsen,” a female voice said, “Mr. Carpenter wants to speak to you. Hold on, please."

  Frank Carpenter was one of the six commissioners who governed the Outfit. He was Leo Pilsen's direct boss.

  "Good morning, Leo."

  "Good morning, boss."

  "I understand you're having a little personal problem. How serious is it?"

  "I'm not sure yet, boss. I think it could turn out to be just some crazy teenage stuff that got out of hand."

  "If you think that, Leo, why would you call our senior attorney, and our bail bondsman, and a police captain in our employ?"

  "I was just playing it safe, boss. Covering all my bases—"

  "The police captain you called is a major asset to our organization, Leo. We call on him for very high-level favors. Not for things like this problem of yours."

  "I'm sorry, boss—"

  "And our senior attorney is also concerned with high-level matters: major felony indictments, interstate matters, parole and pardon petitions—"

  "Yeah, I realize that, boss—"

  "Please don't interrupt me, Leo. The purpose of my call is to make you aware of the nature of the responsibilities that are handled by these people. When their assistance is required by a situation of such gravity that they need to be summoned and brought into it, I am the one who does that. Do I make myself clear, Leo?"

  "Yes, boss. Very clear. I understand completely."

  "Is that cop friend of yours, Manley, helping you out on this?"

  "As much as he can, yes."

  "I see. Do you think the matter requires any help from me in any way?"

  "No, not at all, boss,” Leo assured him. “Like I said earlier, I think it will turn out to be just some kid stuff that got out of hand."

  "That's your best judgment, is it, Leo?"

  "Yes, boss. Absolutely."

  Frank Carpenter ended the call on a cordial note, but left Leo Pilsen staring at the receiver, his hairline and neck slick with sweat.

  * * * *

  Dan Manley prowled the glassed-in hallway of the criminal forensics laboratory until he found a room that had a white sheet covering an examination table upon which was spread out a colorful assortment of medical pills, tablets, and capsules of various shapes, sizes, and colors. They were being sorted out by a female laboratory technician wearing a department-issued lab coat.

  Pressing the button of a two-way speaker system at the door, Manley said, “Excuse me, is that the evidence from Detectives Garvan and Kenmare of Central District?"

  The tech turned. She was an Asian woman of indeterminate age and inscrutable expression. She glanced at a clipboard and replied through the speaker, “Yes. May I help you?"

  "Lieutenant Manley of Central Patrol,” he said, holding up his badge and ID. “Is your room sterile or may I come in?"

  "No, not sterile. Come in.” She pressed a buzzer and admitted him.

  "Quite a drugstore you've got there.” He observed the assortment of pills.

  "A pain in the ass is what I've got here,” she said, surprising Manley with her candor. He read her name tag: pat woo.

  "Why's that?” he asked.

  "See this book?” She pointed to a thick volume upright and open on a metal stand next to the examination table. “This is the International Drug Directory, one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-two pages of reference to every prescription medication known to modern medical science. I've been going through it for four hours identifying these pills until my eyes are going like this—” She looked directly at him and crossed her lovely eyes until both were looking at her nose. “See?"

  Dan Manley smiled his best smile. “When I used to do that as a little kid, my mother would tell me that someday my eyes would stick like that."

  "I think mine might be on the verge,” she said, uncrossing them. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

  "I'm just trying to help my patrol guys who made this collar broaden their report a little. Make it look a little better. Instead of just showing ‘miscellaneous pills’ as evidence, I was hoping to get something a little more specific. Am I out of line at all?"

  "Oh, hell no,” she said. “Glad to help our guys on the street anytime. Get out your notebook."

  Manley took a spiral-lined book from his inside pocket and clicked a ballpoint to the ready. Pat Woo pointed to a row of medicines that she had already classified. She began to recite.

  "Dyazide, for high blood pressure. Zyloprim, anti-gout. Caverject, anti-impotence. Kineret, rheumatoid arthritis. Iopidine, for glaucoma. Kemstro, muscle relaxant. Colazal, bowel inflammation. Valium, which needs no explanation. Xanax, cousin to Valium. Zyban, a smoking deterrent. Celebrex, for osteoarthritis. Zithromax, for upper-respiratory problems. Cordarone, an antiarrhythmic, for abnormal heart rhythm. Campral, for the control of alcoholism."

  She spoke slowly, but with authority, and spelled out the drug names for Manley.

  "Shall I go on?” she asked presently.

  "No, please don't,” Manley said. “No wonder your eyes were crossing.” He checked for a wedding ring, found none. “You by any chance free for dinner some night?"

  "Don't date cops. Sorry."

&
nbsp; "Not even lieutenants?"

  "Especially lieutenants."

  "I know a great Chinese restaurant."

  "I'm Korean, hate Chinese food."

  "Well, how about—"

  "Forget it, Lieutenant. I'm also gay."

  After leaving the crime lab, Manley checked out an unmarked car and drove to Cook County Medical Center. He located the jail ward where Audrey Kane was, and the resident physician who had been assigned to her, Dr. Luz Duran, a thirtyish Hispanic with eyes so big and dark Manley thought a man could drown in them. And she was not wearing a wedding ring.

  "How's the patient?” he asked, after identifying himself.

  "Stable, but still potentially serious,” Luz Duran replied. “We pumped her stomach and gave her a massive diuretic, and got all kinds of ugly stuff out of her at both ends. Our lab is analyzing the product trying to determine what she might have digested."

  "This might help,” Manley said, showing her the list he had obtained from Pat Woo. “These drugs were in her possession when she was arrested. The list is incomplete, incidentally, and she may or may not have ingested any of them."

  "Hey, yes, great,” Luz Duran said enthusiastically. “The lab will love this. May I keep it?"

  "I have to retain it, but you can copy it."

  At the nurses station, Luz Duran made a copy of the notebook pages, scribbled a note to staple to the copy, and gave it to an orderly to be taken down to the lab. “Thanks very much, Lieutenant. This could be a big help."

  "Exactly what I thought,” Manley said, showing her his best smile. “Has the girl had any visitors?"

  "Her parents have been in and out. And her family doctor, an internal medicine physician named DeVries. You want his number?"

  "No, but thanks anyway. What have you told her parents regarding her condition?"

  "Just that she's still comatose, vitals appear normal, but we won't know if there's brain damage until she wakes up."

  "Any idea when that might be?"

  The doctor shrugged. “Five minutes or five days."

  Manley gave her his card. “Would you mind calling me if there's any significant change in her condition."

  "Be happy to."

  "Appreciate it.” Manley held out his hand and she took it. He held it longer than necessary, and their eyes met. “Can I call you sometime, Doctor? Dinner, maybe?"