Chapter 8

The first thing I noticed when I saw Hogan walk into the Sidewalk Café at noon was how exhausted he looked. Since Joe and I had also struggled to get rest in the last few days, we were a grumpy group.

Lindy wasn’t even in the restaurant; she’d called in sick. Her assistant, Dana, said that Tony and T. J. were also at home in bed.

Dana took Hogan, Joe, and me to the back room reserved for private meals. She seated our bleary-eyed trio at the table designed for groups of twelve and promised to send us coffee. As she left, she firmly closed the door that kept us out of the view of regular patrons.

While we waited for our coffee, I asked Hogan my first question. “Have you had an update on Watt this morning?”

“Same one you got, I think. He was better. Still dazed. Bad headache. Doesn’t remember what happened. And beginning to worry about who’s picking up the hospital bill.”

“I’ll have to check to be sure the shop’s insurance will cover it.”

Dana brought coffee and took our orders. Despite the time, we all ordered breakfast.

As Dana left, I asked Hogan another question. “Where did the intruders break in?”

Hogan picked up his cup and shook his head. “Wait a minute, Lee. Let’s start at the beginning. First, were there intruders?”

“Hogan! Somebody hit Watt with a brick!”

“Are you sure? Nobody saw anybody. Unless you did.”

“Heck, no. I wasn’t there! But—well, I guess the previous break-ins in that alley made another one seem likely.”

“No break-in has been reported. And while there were bricks in the alley, I can’t prove that they were used as weapons. The whole incident could have been an accident.”

Joe and I both shook our heads.

Hogan shrugged. “I don’t think so either. However, Watt doesn’t remember anything clearly yet. I might have to wait a day or two longer before we declare it an attack. He could have fallen and landed on a brick.”

“All I know is that Watt told T. J. he was going to check the live trap,” I said. “He apparently went behind our building where the trap was set up and then somehow got hit on the head. When T. J. found Watt, there was a bloody brick lying beside him, and the cops and ambulance crew found it there later. I’ll keep calling it an attack.”

At this point in the conversation, the door to the dining room opened, and Dana came in.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but there’s a man here asking for Chief Jones.”

“Did he give a name?” Hogan asked.

She shook her head and moved closer to our table. When she spoke to Hogan, her voice had become a hoarse whisper. “He didn’t give a name, but I know who he is. I’ve seen him on Grand Rapids TV. It’s Phil McNeal!”

Hogan frowned, and I rolled my eyes. I had history with Phil McNeal. He and I had crossed paths several times in the past. Yet he could never remember my name or that we’d ever met before. In other words, I hated the guy.

Joe chuckled. “Hogan,” he said, “you’ve hit the big time. If you make Phil McNeal’s show, you are breaking news. At least in west Michigan.”

Hogan was still frowning. “But do I want to be breaking news? Even in west Michigan?”

“I guess that’s up to you,” Joe said.

“There was something I wanted to tell the public,” Hogan said. “Maybe this is as good an opportunity as any.”

He stood up. “Dana, bring Mr. McNeal in, please. And tell the cook to hold my eggs until I talk to him.”

Dana nodded with excitement. “I’ll have him right in here.”

As Joe and I grabbed our coffee cups and moved to the other end of the room, I said to Hogan, “You usually try to avoid talking to the press. You issue press releases. Why is Phil McNeal getting special treatment?”

“Sometimes law enforcement needs the press,” Hogan replied. The door swung open to reveal Dana showing Phil McNeal and his cameraman in. Hogan greeted the Grand Rapids newsman with a friendly handshake. “Exactly the man I need to see,” he said. “Dana, please bring coffee for Mr. McNeal and his cameraman.”

McNeal looked wary. “You’re probably aware, Chief Jones, that you have a reputation with the press for being tough to work with. So why am I getting the welcome mat?”

Hogan smiled. “For one thing, you got here before the sheriff.”

The sheriff usually did the talking to the press.

McNeal beckoned to his cameraman to set up. He asked who Joe and I were, and Joe stuck out his right hand with all the airs of a small-town politician.

“I’m the city attorney,” he said, leaving out the “part-time” adjective. “I’m just trying to keep up with what’s going on around here. And this is my wife, Lee. The chief is her uncle as well as being our friend.”

“We’ll keep quiet,” I said. “We certainly don’t want to interrupt your interview.”

In under five minutes, McNeal had Hogan facing the direction he wanted, and he had clipped a microphone onto his lapel. Then McNeal nodded to the cameraman and started.

“Chief Jones,” he said, “we’ve been hearing rumors out of Warner Pier, rumors of a series of unusual break-ins at local businesses. Then last night, or so I understand, a workman was attacked, possibly by the burglars, and is now hospitalized.” He leaned closer to Hogan. “Chief, just what is going on here?”

“Obviously, Phil, that’s what we’re trying to figure out. What makes these break-ins unusual is that although the burglars have gotten into about a half-dozen businesses, they never took anything of value. It was almost as if the perpetrators were showing off, trying to demonstrate that they could do as they liked. I think most citizens regarded the events as pranks. Of course, my department has taken these break-ins seriously all along, but we did not want to bring too much public attention to them.”

“Why not, Chief?”

“Because the spotlight might encourage the perpetrators to commit more of these crimes. But now the situation has changed.”

“In what way?”

“Recently, a local merchant surprised the burglars, and they locked him in a closet. And in a different incident, last night a man was seriously hurt. It’s possible that his injuries came from a freak accident, but it appears more likely that they were caused by a deliberate attack, an attack that could easily have led to his death.

“We don’t yet know whether there is a link between this incident and the burglaries, but in either case, we need to catch the perpetrators. So I’m asking Warner Pier’s citizens and its visitors to help out.”

“How?” McNeal leaned forward.

“Simply by calling us if they have seen anything unusual.”

“What sorts of things are you interested in?”

“Anything out of the ordinary, Phil. A car in the wrong place. A light on in a building that should be empty. A pedestrian walking or loitering somewhere unexpected. We Warner Pier people are proud of our town. We think it’s the most picturesque and friendly town on the Great Lakes. But we have a small police force. We need every citizen to help us find out what’s going on!”

Hogan leaned toward McNeal and made his voice sound as if he were letting the newsman in on a top secret.

“Some local person may even be involved,” he said.

Hogan assured McNeal that the identities of people who called would not be revealed on the air. The interview ended with a phone number and with Phil McNeal grinning from ear to ear. He almost gushed with gratitude, thanking Hogan profusely for giving him the story. McNeal was still beaming as he left.

“Well, Hogan,” I said, “you made his day.”

Hogan gave a snort. “I didn’t tell him I did the same interview with the Holland paper at ten o’clock, and I’ve got an interview with the Grand Rapids paper at two.”

We laughed. Then Dana brought in our meals. We all grabbed our knives and forks.

“The problem with the Phil McNeal interview,” Hogan said, “is that at this moment it’s about all we can do—overtly—to find these jerks.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean the burglars are, frankly, much too sophisticated to merely be kids showing off. They’ve used elaborate techniques to open locks without leaving evidence. We know from the jewelry store incident that they’ve been careful to conceal their faces. Their vehicles have not been identified, though they have apparently been using a car or truck to get around town. They haven’t bragged to their friends. Or if they have, the friends have kept their mouths shut. And they’ve resisted the temptation to steal valuables. They never take anything that has to be fenced, anything that could be used to track them down.”

I stopped in the middle of salting my eggs. “Then why are they bothering to break in at all?”

“That’s what bothers me, Lee.” Hogan took a bite of his bacon. “Maybe I’m just a suspicious old coot, but what are they really up to?”

“They injured Watt,” I said, “and the only logical reason was to keep him from seeing them.”

“That’s certainly a strong possibility. But we don’t know enough about Watt Wicker to have a theory. It could be, for example, that Watt is an international crook and a rival gang is trying to kill him.”

Joe and I stared at him. Then we both laughed.

“Watt?” I said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Of course it is,” Hogan said. “But what I’m saying is that Watt could have been the target of an attack for a lot of reasons. We don’t know. But if people are willing to link the Cookie Monsters to this attack—well, let them. I’ll investigate Watt without publicity.”

“So all this stuff about people calling in is just so much eyewash?”

“No, we do need to know what’s going on around here. If anybody has seen anything that might be linked to the break-ins, I want to know about it. I already asked Joe to mention the break-ins to the coffee club—those guys see and hear a lot.”

Joe laughed. “As witnessed by the amount of gossip we spread.”

Hogan grinned. “Exactly. But my first step will be investigating Watt Wicker. Where did he come from? Why is he here? I’m sorry this terrible thing happened. But what’s really going on with him?”

Hogan stopped talking and took another bite. As soon as he swallowed, he motioned toward me with his fork. “So can you do a favor for me, Lee?”

“What is it?”

“Find out a little more about Watt Wicker.”

“How would I do that?”

“How’d you find him? I mean, as a raccoon catcher.”

“Wildflower Hill recommended him. I guess I could ask her if she knows anything about his background.”

Hogan raised his eyebrows. “Go for it,” he said.