The Mourning Mail (FINAL)

Chapter 54

The morning dawned cool and cloudy, and I awoke in good spirits. My body was feeling better every day that passed, and I planned to do without the Tylenol 3 if I could. I needed unmasked clarity. I'd keep my rental car for at least one more day, thinking it unlikely that anyone had yet tied me to that vehicle. That meant I was now driving myself around, and though I hadn't felt impaired, the codeine in the prescription probably wasn't good for that. Or so it said right on the label.

Given my intention to confront Ricky Mason at some point over the next few days, I debated whether I should carry the .38 with me. The revolver was too bulky, and its shape too obvious to hide anywhere in my clothing. The weather didn't justify a coat or sweater. Carrying the weapon in my purse meant fumbling for it in an emergency unless I kept a hand on it. That would be the opposite of clandestine, especially when approaching a known criminal with a heightened awareness of those things. And if they separated me somehow from my purse, I'd be handing an adversary the instrument of my demise. After a fierce debate with myself, I decided not to carry the handgun. Instead, I tucked it into the car's glove compartment, in case I later changed my mind.

Doug Stein's invitation to brunch was an opportunity for me to catch up on his work investigating Strike Response, and he was curious about how my Seaver investigation was going. Through all our years working side-by-side at the paper, we'd kept secret from the rest of the world our shared guilty pleasure: IHOP cheese blintzes. Status updates were a perfect excuse to indulge ourselves today.

We ordered, and I told Doug about running into Harry Sanderson. "Chasing down information on James Seaver and his cohorts was the first time I'd met Harry—he's quite the old soul and quotations guru. He sent me two of your articles, the ones you wrote about the Strike Response warehouse thefts that proved to be frauds." I poured us both some coffee from the pot on the table. "I've watched right and wrong take a lot of different forms through all of this, and Harry is teaching me to recognize them. That whole incident with the weapons disappearing and awkwardly reappearing seems awfully convenient. And I couldn't help but notice that Harry didn't miss a beat letting me know about it.

"The man insinuated the two of you go back a ways. I got the idea there's some interesting history between you."

"Harry Sanderson? Oh, yeah," Doug said with a wicked grin. "I've seen his name popping up here and there in all of this. Harry and I go back thirty years—I could tell you some stories, but as the old CIA joke goes, then I'd have to kill you." Doug laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure," I said, shaking my head. "Until he told me, I didn't know you knew each other—that alone is a scary thought!"

"Back in the day, more than a few bottles of good Scotch were sacrificed in chasing down some crazy stories together. I can't imagine anyone I'd want fighting by my side more, or dating my daughter less," he quipped.

"I've been too busy running down witnesses in my own cases to keep up with your other Strike Response articles," I said, wanting to get back on track. "What's been going on?"

"Strike Response was in some ways as powerful as the mob back in the day," Doug said, "but those days are gone. I'd like to take the credit for that myself. But you got me started on a good path, law enforcement's been playing it straight for once, and I think our mutual friend's been giving us a boost up from behind the scenes. Whomever might have been helping them along, once Strike Response started their downhill slide, they crumpled fast."

"How so?" I asked.

"The authorities have launched several investigations. I've got to give them their due: they were already working some of these things before Strike Response killed Antara. A grand jury was convened, they've issued indictments, and plenty more are coming," Doug answered. "Those have severely damaged Strike Response's business opportunities, profits, and the careers of past and present employees. Pending prosecutions for insurance fraud, federal weapons charges, and revelations from operatives about their practices have taken their toll. Much of the source material for the indictments is in print—trial transcripts, witness statements, depositions—preserved for the ages."