Boldt 03 - No Witnesses Read Online Free PDF Page A

Shoswitz said. His office was decorated in baseball memorabilia and cheap trophies. He had big brown eyes, a narrow face, and the anxious movements of a used-car salesman. His shirt collar was a half size too big.
    “I’ve got a live one. I need a case number for the second floor.”
    “Evidence? Don’t tell me someone in your squad actually came up with some evidence!” He moved around the room judiciously.
    Boldt saw Wednesday’s paper on a chair. He opened it to page 7 and spread it on Shoswitz’s desk, tapping the article. Shoswitz read.
    “Adler Foods has received some convincing threats. Part of the demands include our staying out of it,” Boldt observed.
    “Adler Foods is huge,” Shoswitz said, the concern very real in his voice.
    “There’s the very real possibility that these illnesses are our criminal’s way of making himself be taken seriously.”
    “So we keep it out of the Book,” Shoswitz observed.
    “I’d like to be detailed,” Boldt said, requesting he be assigned solely to this one investigation and his other responsibilities reassigned.
    “I can justify that.” Shoswitz was not going to fight him, was not going to nag him about clearance rates or internal politics. He was, in effect, throwing himself to the lions, and doing so without complaint or comment.
    “You’ll want LaMoia and Gaynes, so I’ll give the squad over to Danielson. That should starch some shorts.” Danielson was a newcomer to Boldt’s Homicide squad, and not particularly well liked, though he had earned the support and respect of his sergeant and lieutenant.
    “How long can we sit on it?” Boldt asked.
    “A day or two. Rankin will have to be told eventually, and by then, you’ll have to have something more than this,” he said, pointing at the newspaper.
    “This is one time I’d really like to be wrong,” Boldt said honestly.
    A patrolman knocked on Shoswitz’s door and opened it, informing Boldt that the lab had just called up for him.
    The lieutenant and sergeant met eyes, and the lieutenant said plaintively, “Tell Bernie it’s not going in the Book. He has a problem with that, he can call me.”
    The lab smelled medicinal, with a hint of cordite and the bitter taste of shorting electricity.
    Lofgrin’s glasses gave him eyes that looked like boiled eggs sliced in half. He had an oily face and wild hair—what was left of it.
    “I need to know if any of the jars or cans had been tampered with,” Boldt said, following at a brisk pace across the lab.
    “The jars are out,” Lofgrin declared, explaining, “we would need the lids to detect tampering. Probably would miss it even then. The cans,” he said, pointing ahead, “are a different story.”
    “Can you test the jars for cholera?”
    “Can, and will. But it won’t be today. And honestly, we’re unlikely to get much of anything. The bacteria will not survive in a dry jar. Even in the soup, it has a shelf life of only a few days at the outside. But obviously, we’ll still try. An early jump won’t help with these.”
    “When?”
    “Eight to ten working days. Five days at the earliest; two weeks at the outside.”
    Weeks? Boldt wondered. He grabbed Lofgrin by the arm, pulled him aside, and spoke in a whisper. “It’s not going in the Book, Bernie. It’s one of those . I don’t have weeks.”
    Lofgrin searched Boldt’s eyes and then fixed his attention on Boldt’s tight grip, which loosened immediately. He said, “We may be able to get some help with this. First, let’s see what we’ve got , okay?”
    “We’ve got two down that we know of. Alive, but not well.”
    “Understood.”
    They each took a seat on a stool in front of the lab counter where Boldt’s prized evidence—two soup cans and a spaghetti jar—awaited them. A loose-leaf reference manual lay open alongside. “The labels match. No forgery or nothing; they’re the real thing. Dimensions, too,” he added, tapping the reference book. “Got the specs on everything