District Attorney Michael Lytell stormed into Skip Wilder’s office, spittle spraying from the corners of his mouth as he bellowed, “Where is he?”
“Who?” I said.
When Wilder stood deferentially, Lytell sat down heavily in Wilder’s desk chair. “Already he’s being difficult.”
Avoiding my amused glance, Wilder reluctantly sat in the chair beside me. “He’s here to discuss something with you, Michael. Perhaps you could tone it down a bit and listen.”
“Ha,” Lytell exclaimed.
“If Boris Petrov is still of interest to you, I might have an answer or two.”
“Why is he always so evasive?” Lytell queried Wilder.
“I’m about to arrest him.” I answered.
“Petrov?”
“Yes.”
“Boris Petrov? You’re going to arrest Boris Petrov?”
“And present him to you on a silver platter.”
“He’s full of shit,” Lytell said to Wilder.
“We’ve got him dead to rights.”
“Sure, you do.”
“For openers, he’s going to be charged with the manufacture and distribution of illegal narcotics.”
Lytell stared at Wilder’s desktop for several moments, then reached over and rearranged a pile of papers that had been placed scattershot upon it. “And you think it will stick?”
“We discovered incriminating evidence hidden behind fake walls in his home.”
“What evidence?”
“I’ll present you with the forensic report. And I’ll show you the evidence.”
“They’ll still have him out in no time,” Lytell said.
“Not if the judge has anything to say about it.”
“What judge?”
“Lemieux.”
“What makes you think she would be involved?”
“San Remo County.”
“They’ll petition for Los Angeles.”
“It won’t be a slam-dunk for them.”
“You think?” Lytell turned to Wilder. “You heard him. It won’t be a slam-dunk. I’m so relieved.”
Wilder stared at him blank-eyed.
Lytell focused on me. “Why?”
“Why do I think it won’t be a slam-dunk?”
“Yes.”
“She wants the case.”
“Lemieux?”
“Yes.”
“You can bet your sweet bippy the Governor will resist.”
“He’ll be out of it before it even begins.”
“What are you talking about?” Lytell said. “Putin’s spoken to the Governor personally.”
“When he learns the amount of Fentanyl we discovered, he’ll disappear faster than Harry Houdini.”
Lytell was about to speak again but thought better of it. A silence settled over the room.
“When will this arrest take place?” he asked at last. “It’s bound to be a circus.”
“It’ll happen when it happens.”
Lytell looked at Skip Wilder. “Do you understand what he just said? I never understand anything he says.”
“Petrov’s already in custody.” I said. “We’ll officially arrest him when the timing is right. No press. No crowds. No lawyers.”
“And then what?”
I shrugged. “That’ll be up to you.”
For a brief moment, Lytell’s eyes resembled those of a deer caught in the headlights. Then, just as quickly, he got over it. “What do you propose?”
“Well, for one thing, no bail. As for the publicity, you’re the public relations guru. Have a word with Her Honor and make the call.”
“This shit is going to hit the fan big-time.”
“Rain gear,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“Rain gear will help protect you from the spray.”
“He’s very funny,” Lytell said to Wilder. “Don’t you think he’s very funny?”
I stood. “My work here is done.”
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.