Bohler left, thanking me for the musings of a confused mind and not much else. Still, there was a chance she’d find a compliant judge and that she’d dig. And if she did, it would be bad for one and good for the other.
I called the one first.
‘You sound tense,’ Amanda said. ‘I’ll call you back in five minutes.’
‘You’re working on Sunday?’
‘It’s what tycoons do. Five minutes.’
I stewed for those five minutes, and then for the twenty more that followed, silently, after that. And then she called.
‘I don’t want you to be caught unprepared,’ I said.
‘Unprepared for what?’
I told her about my conversation with Sergeant Bohler, the grid map I’d printed out and the spot where all the blood had been found. And I told her what I’d asked Bohler to do.
‘My God, Dek! What if you’re wrong?’
‘It probably won’t get that far. Bohler doubts any judge would be crazy enough to give her a warrant to dig at Wade’s estate even if she was crazy enough to ask for one.’
She exhaled softly against the phone. ‘I emailed Theresa, saying that my becoming deputy campaign manager this close to the election would look like eyewash, a meaningless reward for a contribution. She was very understanding.’
‘She won’t be if men come with shovels. She’ll blame you for me.’
‘Imagining they’d be involved in secret burials seems … so unfair. No, it’s nightmarish.’
‘Murder is worse.’
‘You’ve alerted Jennifer Gale?’
‘I’ll call her next. She’s owed this story. She and her cameraman got beaten, badly, just across the street from Wade’s place.’
‘The election is in two days,’ she said.
‘I doubt Bohler can act that fast. If anything happens it will be long after Timothy Wade has been elected.’
‘You and your Sergeant Bohler better be right, if she does decide to proceed. Otherwise, good people are going to get muddied. You, most of …’ She didn’t finish. She let it taper away.
‘No, not me so much. You’ve got more to lose. That’s why I called you.’
She paused for a long moment. ‘Ah, hell, I’m a tycoon now. And I’ve weathered you before.’ She clicked off.
I called Galecki’s. ‘Don’t hang up,’ I said to Mrs Galecki. ‘Tell Jenny the story might break.’
Mrs Galecki hung up, but I hoped she’d done it after I got the words out.
I didn’t have to hope long. Jenny called within a minute.
‘Bohler might go for a warrant to dig up Wade’s estate to look for graves,’ I said.
‘Now, like today?’
‘Not today. Maybe not tomorrow, or in two months, or ever. Bohler is a cop in a Democratic county in a Democratic state. She has to decide whether messing in Wade’s estate is worth the risk to her career. If she thinks it is, she still has to convince her superiors at the sheriff’s department to get the case back from Chicago PD and then to assign it to her. Then she’s got to convince a judge to give her a warrant. Then she’s got to assemble—’
‘Digging up Wade’s estate on election day would be so perfect.’ Her voice had risen, imagining video, imagining audio. She’d been only half-listening.
‘Not for those who believe in elections.’
‘And I’d have to figure out who’d air my report,’ she said.
‘That’s probably a long way off—’
‘Channel Eight, right here,’ she said. ‘My old station. They’ll do it.’
‘Make sure your team includes Bernie, Stanley, Frank, Eloise and any other tough cousins you’ve got.’
‘The story could run simultaneously, here and in San Francisco, then break national.’ She clicked me away.
What happened next happened quickly.
And happened wrong.