Dead Ends by Don Easton Page A

Especially in the limited time we have left.”
    â€œMaybe by then we can prove they’re setting up a meth lab and can get a new wire for that,” suggested Laura.
    â€œDo you know the work involved to do that?” replied Connie. “Besides, proving it’s a meth lab won’t take long. If we keep a new wire running in the hope of getting evidence on a murder when the wire is for dope, then defence will claim we were on a fishing expedition and have it tossed out of court.”
    â€œQuit being so pessimistic,” said Jack. “Get the bug in. I don’t care if it is only for a couple of days. I think they will talk about the murder.”
    â€œWhat are you?” she snorted. “One of these guys who says the glass is half full?”
    â€œNaw,” replied Jack. “Who cares if it’s half full or half empty. It’s just beer. Slam it back.”
    Laura caught a glint in Jack’s eye. She knew he had a plan.
    * * *
    The investigators were successful in placing listening devices in the basement suite late that night. Neither Varrick nor Zack returned or did anything of significance for another two days. It was nine o’clock at night before Varrick retraced his steps from Headstones and once more met with Zack at the strip mall before returning to the basement suite.
    Connie stayed in the monitoring room to listen to the recorders. She had three hours before the wiretap would be disconnected. Jack and Laura were on surveillance and saw the men unloading boxes from the van. By the sound of glassware and a few comments she heard, Connie knew that they were setting up another meth lab.
    â€œJack,” she radioed. “One of ’em said it was the last of the boxes. Also a comment about having a few days to set it up before they get the juice.”
    â€œCopy that,” replied Laura in his place. “They’re likely referring to the chemicals they need.”
    â€œThey could be leaving soon,” replied Connie. She waited a moment for a response, but there was nothing but silence. “This is it,” she lamented over the radio. “Tonight is our last chance. At midnight we have to pull the plug.” She waited for a reply, but didn’t get one. “Jack? You there?” she asked.
    Laura answered and said, “Jack left. You should hear his fist pound on their door any second.”
    As if on cue, Connie heard a loud thump over the recorder, followed by Zack’s nervous whisper to Varrick, “Who the fuck is that?”
    Connie let out an involuntary gasp as her stomach constricted. Her lungs froze and her mouth unconsciously dropped open as she strained to listen.

Chapter Eight
    Chapter Eight
    Several anxious seconds ticked past and Connie stared at the silent recorder. Is it working? Moments later, the sound of footsteps told her that it was.
    â€œWho is it?” came Varrick’s voice. “Who’s there?”
    Dead silence was followed by the sound of Varrick slowly opening the door.
    â€œThere’s nobody here,” he said. “What the fuck! Look what’s hangin’ on the knob!”
    â€œA gold fuckin’ cross?” responded Zack.
    Connie heard the door knob rattle slightly before the door was closed again.
    â€œThere’s a piece of paper tied to it,” said Zack.
    â€œA fuckin’ gold cross,” muttered Varrick, sounding bewildered.
    â€œSomeone’s yankin’ our chain over that dead priest!”
    â€œHis was real gold,” replied Varrick. “This is painted wood.”
    â€œWho the fuck put it on the doorknob? Read the note.”
    Connie heard a rustle of paper and Varrick said, “ God knows what you did and is waiting … ” Varrick started laughing.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” demanded Zack.
    â€œCocktail is fuckin’ with us.”
    â€œYou see him out there?”
    â€œNo, but who else could it be?” answered