Premeditated

3. A Call From Left Field

A Call From Left Field

Captain Gladys Cooper relaxed in her overstuffed recliner while she finished the last of her morning tea. She seldom performed many tasks before drinking her tea, and today was no exception.

Her eyes were closed, thinking of all she had to do, when the intercom sounded. Cindy’s voice seemed to be a scream.

“A Detective Don Flaherty on the line for you, Captain. He’s from the San Francisco Homicide Department.”

SFPD? I wonder what the hell he wants? Tired as she was, Coop got out of the chair and reached for the phone. Curiosity made her.

“Cooper,” she said.

“Captain Cooper, my name is Detective Don Flaherty. I’m with the Homicide Department of the San Francisco Police Department.”

“Go on.”

“This is a strange call, I know, and I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling, so I’ll try to be brief.”

Cindy poked her head in the office, and Coop signaled her to bring more tea, by fake sipping from her empty cup.

“We received a call from Homeland Security. They had been monitoring a certain café in a seedy part of the Tenderloin District. This café is apparently a known spot for those who want to access the darker side of the Internet and to do it anonymously. Anyway, to make a long story short, someone accessed a site that HS had an alert on. It’s a site on how to commit murder. We pulled surveillance from the surrounding area, and we’ve managed to narrow the suspects to a few people. One of them is a married couple who recently left on a flight bound for Houston.”

Coop took a few breaths. “So you’re saying that a married couple is coming to my city, and that one of them is planning to kill the other? Which one wants to do the killing? And what are their names?”

“Names are the easy part,” Flaherty said. “Kevin and Susan Hemphill. The ‘which one’ is the difficult part. We don’t know who used the computer. All we have is a license plate which might, and I say might, identify them as the suspects.”

“And why do you say might?”

“Because all we could get were partial plates, but we got enough of the plate so that when it was combined with the make and model we were able to narrow the list down to just a few cars. We’re checking out the local ones, but the Hemphills are on their way to Houston, hence the call.”

Coop tried to digest all that Flaherty was saying. “Okay, Detective. Thanks for the warning. I’ll put a pair of my detectives on this right away.” Coop reached for the button to disconnect, then said, “Anything else you can tell me?”

“Not much. They’re rich, that’s about all I know. You should see the place where they live.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

After hanging up, Coop thought for a moment, then called Cindy. “Get Gino and Ribs down here. And tell them it’s a priority.”

Ten minutes later, Gino and Ribs walked into the office. “What’s up, Captain?”

Coop gave Gino and Ribs the names, and explained the situation to them. “I got a call from SFPD. It seems like somebody went to a café that Homeland Security has under surveillance and they accessed a website that HS also has under surveillance, then—”

“Do they have everything under surveillance?” Ribs asked. “Do they know Gino watches porn?”

Gino shook his head. “You’re getting as bad as Tip.” Then he spun around to Coop and said, “Ignore him, and tell us about the site.”

Coop filled them in on the rest of what Flaharty had told her, then said, “They should arrive at Bush in about forty-five minutes.” Coop slid the glasses off the bridge of her nose and eyeballed them. “You know what this means?” She twisted her wrist and looked at her watch. “It means you’re going to be late if you don’t get your asses to the airport now. Head over there and find out what these people have on their minds. And make sure to tell them that we don’t tolerate that s**t in Texas. Make it damn clear.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ribs said, then he grabbed Gino’s elbow and steered him toward the door. “Let’s go, cuz. We need to drive Tip-Denton speed if we hope to get there on time.”

“Don’t start on me,” Gino said. “I vowed never to ride with that maniac again.”

I sat in the seat next to Ribs. Assuming we had all of the information, the Hemphills would be landing and de-planing any minute. I grinned and looked at Ribs. “Let’s make sure to give them a proper Texas greeting.”

We sat for a few minutes before the announced arrival of UA 1589, from San Francisco, sounded over the loudspeaker. “That’s the one we want,” Ribs said.

I recognized who I thought were surely the Hemphills immediately. They were the second ones out of the chute. It was no surprise. The detective from California had said they were rich, so first-class seating would be standard.

The man walked far ahead of the woman, and it made me wonder if I had been correct in the assumption of who they were. He was wearing a pair of brown shorts with a light-green top, and he had a pair of sunglasses on.

I waited for him to step from the ramp, then introduced myself and Ribs. “I’m Detective Gino Cataldi, and this is my partner, Detective Hector Delgado. Are you Kevin Hemphill?”

He furrowed his brow, looking confused, then said, “I’m Kevin. What’s this about?”

“We’re looking for Mrs. Hemphill. Is she with you?”

“I don’t know that my wife’s whereabouts is any of your business. Perhaps if you tell me why you’re asking—”

“Kev, wait up.”

I looked behind Hemphill to a woman hurrying to catch up. “Is she your wife?”

“Again, not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

Mrs. Hemphill was wheeling a small carry-on behind her. She stopped beside her husband, then stared at me and Ribs. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We’d like you to follow us down to the station and answer a few questions.”

“What? You’re nuts,” Mr. Hemphill said.

I realized I’d said “follow us” so I corrected the statement. “I didn’t mean follow us,” I said. “I understand you don’t have a vehicle here. If you want, I’ll arrange to drive you wherever you’re going afterward.”

“You’re still nuts,” Mr. Hemphill said. “Suppose I said we were going to Florida. Would you arrange to have us driven there?”

Ribs stepped between us. “I think you know we wouldn’t, sir.”

“And I think you know we’re not coming with you,” he said. “We don’t have to, you know. I understand my rights.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You don’t have to. It was simply a request.”

Mrs. Hemphill placed her hand on her husband’s arm, as if to calm him, like he required that from time to time. It made me wonder if he often needed calming.

“And what kind of questions did you have, Detective? Perhaps we can answer them here.”

I looked at Ribs, but he was shaking his head. “Maybe another time,” I said.

As we started to walk away, she said, “What are the questions, Detective? I’m curious.”

I thought that maybe we could use her curiosity to an advantage. “We had a call from San Francisco, ma’am. It seems as if they were worried that one of you might want to harm the other.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mr. Hemphill said. Then he grabbed hold of his wife’s arm, just above the elbow. “Let’s go, Susan. I’m through with them.”

She shook off his grip. “No, it’s fine, Kev. Let’s do it. It may help the detectives.” She turned to face me. “We’ll ride with you, Detective. Presuming that’s all right?”

“Fine, ma’am. It won’t take long.”