‘Thank you all for coming,’ the short man in the brown suit said. ‘I’m Special Agent Till for the ATF.’
By ‘all’, Till meant the seven newspeople gathered in the employee lunchroom. Four were men, three were women. All but Rigg and one other were third-stringers. All had pens or pencils poised above slender wirebound notebooks, and all balanced small digital recorders to catch what they forgot to write. None had video cameras. An ATF presser about gun distribution did not draw television.
The other veteran, besides Rigg, was Greg Theodore of the Tribune. He sat at the front table. Rigg guessed that the Trib’s media man was there because he’d figured Rigg would show up because of the ninth person in the room. Deputy Jerome Glet leaned his bulk against one of the vending machines for coffee, soda and petrified snacks that lined one wall.
‘What we do does not normally elicit much interest from the press,’ Till went on, with an acknowledging faint sweep of his hand, ‘but it was suggested we reach out to you, and others who apparently could not attend on such short notice, because of an unusual turn one of our cases took a few days ago.’
He paused to look at Glet, who nodded for him to continue.
‘One of our illegal firearms distribution investigations reached a satisfactory milestone a week ago, with the arrest of Kevin Wilcox. Ours is part of a multi-state, multi-task force investigation into illegal distributions of firearms throughout the Midwest. That’s ordinary stuff for us, here at ATF, but our interrogation of Mr Wilcox took an unanticipated turn when we reached out to the Cook County sheriff’s department – as much as a courtesy as anything else, because Mr Wilcox’s activities took place in unincorporated Cook County, their jurisdiction. Deputy Jerome Glet began working with us. In the interest of full transparency, he thought it best that we hold this press briefing so he could personally brief you on his part in our investigation.’
Glet introduced himself. ‘I was brought into the Wilcox investigation at the request of Agent Till, here, because of jurisdiction, nothing more. And, for some days, that’s all it was. I was simply kept apprised of their gun distribution case and allowed to sit in on their interviews. But, because we never give up on a mature murder case and we never quit investigating new cases as well’ – he paused to look directly at Rigg, long enough to cause everyone else to turn to look at him, too – ‘I began to wonder if there might be something to the close proximity between where Bobby Stemec and the Henderson brothers were found murdered and the Happy Times Stables, north and west of the city of Chicago, where Kevin Wilcox carried out his gun distribution scheme—’
‘Alleged gun distribution scheme,’ Till interrupted.
The third-string eyes turned back to Glet, but not Greg Theodore’s. His eyes stayed on Rigg a moment longer. Rigg could only shrug and smile back.
‘Alleged scheme,’ Glet corrected. ‘In the course of Special Agent Till’s investigation, I became aware of a number of points of potential contact with my ceaseless investigation’ – again he looked at Rigg, to underscore the point – ‘into the murders of Bobby Stemec, Johnny Henderson and Anthony Henderson, the October before last.’
By now, all the reporters were writing furiously. This was no ordinary ATF presser about a gun bust. A big break in an old case was being presented.
‘It is premature to go into detail,’ Glet continued, ‘but we expect to request that Sheriff Lehman charge Wilcox with the Stemec Henderson murders.’
Theodore shot up his hand. ‘What evidence have you got, and is Wilcox suspected of other murders?’
Instead of answering, Glet looked at Rigg, taunting, almost begging him to follow up on the same question.
Rigg bit. ‘The Graves girls? Is Wilcox a viable suspect in the murders of the Graves girls and Jennifer Ann Day?’
‘I am investigating other matters. Thank you all for coming,’ Glet said, without any mention of why Kevin Wilcox was suspected of the Stemec Henderson murders or any other crimes. He and Till left the room through a side door.
‘What ties Wilcox to anything?’ Theodore shouted after them.
‘Has he confessed?’ someone else yelled.
Rigg called out nothing. It would have done no good. Glet’s moment was to tantalize, to draw attention to himself and hope to keep it there.
There was a rush to leave the room. No longer did print deadlines dominate. Now all news was hot, aimed for the Internet as short and as fast as it could be typed, from cars or sidewalks or wherever.
Not so with Rigg. He was in no hurry. All he wanted was quiet, a place to think.
‘You just got bumped as my next lead,’ Theodore said, sidling up. ‘I was going to write about your resurrection, flashing your rusted sword of righteousness in the name of Richie Fernandez and his potential involvement in the Graves and Day cases.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘And your non-existent witnesses,’ Theodore said, watching his eyes.
Rigg shrugged and Theodore hurried away.
Heading toward the parking garage, Rigg tried to puzzle Glet’s cryptic performance. The deputy came across as positive that Wilcox had killed the boys, but then had suggested he was working an angle to something else, an angle that didn’t necessarily point to the murdered girls.
Too many oranges were up in the air, and the juggler was still quite blind.
He wrote the bit from a Starbucks before his coffee had a chance to cool.
In a confusing performance at an ATF gun case press conference, Cook County Sheriff’s Deputy Jerome Glet announced this afternoon that Kevin Wilcox, currently being held by the ATF on charges of illegal weapons distribution, was likely to be charged in the long-unsolved murders of Bobby Stemec and Johnny and Anthony Henderson. Glet declined to offer specifics, other than to imply he was investigating other matters that might, or might not, stem from the arrest of Wilcox. Efforts to reach Deputy Glet and Sheriff Joseph Lehman for clarification have been unsuccessful.
He called Aria after sending it to the Pink.
‘How the hell can he do that?’ she said. ‘Toss out a grenade and then leave the briefing?’
‘Maybe to blindside Lehman and pre-empt him from running with that yellow body-marks card we gave him. And to make sure all eyes stay focused on him. Glet wants redemption.’
‘He’s gone rogue to get it?’
‘He wants Lehman’s job,’ Rigg said, ‘and that starts with stepping out from behind Lehman. Glet’s now the man who’s about to solve Stemec Henderson. But, as he again implied today, he’s also chasing something bigger.’
‘Does this affect your story about Richie Fernandez?’
‘I’m not sure. He seems interested. He’s not outright dismissive, he’s not insisting it’s only a catch-and-release.’
‘You’ve got to find this other thing he’s chasing.’
‘I’ve got a more immediate problem. My witnesses to the Fernandez bust have disappeared. Just Wally and the desk clerk are gone. Lehman could have threatened them or paid them to leave. I’ve got to find Fernandez.’
‘Best you first find out that big thing Glet’s chasing.’ She clicked him away.
His coffee had cooled. He sipped at it, looking out the window at the sun setting behind the glass towers of Chicago’s Loop. An hour passed, maybe more. And then his cell phone chimed with a new text message.
How about a drink? it read.