Wild Justice by Phillip Margolin Read Free Book Online Page A

Days later the state crime lab would report that the powder was indeed cocaine. By that time, Vasquez would have trouble remembering that cocaine was even involved in the case against Dr. Vincent Cardoni. What Bobby Vasquez would remember for the rest of his life were the dead eyes that stared at him from the two severed heads that sat on the middle shelf.
    11 Milton County sheriff Clark Mills, a sleepy-eyed man with shaggy brown hair and a thick mustache, struggled valiantly to maintain his composure when Vasquez showed him the severed heads. Both belonged to white women. One head was oval in shape and covered with blond hair that was stiff and stringy from the extreme cold. It leaned against the interior wall of the refrigerator like a prop in a horror film. The second head was covered with brunette hair and leaned against the first. The eyes in both skulls had rolled back so far that the pupils had almost disappeared. The skin looked like a pale rubber compound created by a special-effects wizard and was ragged and uneven where the neck had been severed from the body. Jake Mullins, Mills s deputy, had blinked furiously for a few seconds before backing out of the room. The person who seemed the least affected by the horror in the refrigerator was Fred Scofield, the Milton County district attorney. Scofield, a heavy man tottering on the brink of obesity, had been in Vietnam and was a big-city DA before burning out and moving to the peace and seclusion of the mountain community of Cedar City. What should we do, Fred? the sheriff asked. Scofield was chewing on an unlit cigar and staring dispassionately at the heads. He turned his back to the refrigerator and addressed the shaken lawman. I think we should clear out of here so we don t mess up the crime scene. Then you should get on the horn and have the state police send a forensic team up here ASAP. They collected the deputy, whose complexion was as pale as the heads in the refrigerator. While Sheriff Mills phoned the state police and the deputy collapsed on the living room couch, Scofield led Bobby Vasquez outside onto the deck and lit up his cigar. The temperature was in the low thirties, but the cold country air was a welcome relief after the close, fetid smell in the makeshift operating room. What brought you to this house of horrors, Detective? Vasquez had worked on his story while waiting for the police, and he had it down pat. He figured he could get it past anyone if he could get it by the flinty district attorney. I ve been investigating an anonymous tip that a doctor named Vincent Cardoni was planning to sell two kilos of cocaine he had purchased from Martin Breach, a major narcotics dealer. I know who Breach is, Scofield said. The cocaine was supposed to be hidden in this house. I assume you corroborated this tip before barging into Dr. Cardoni s domicile? There was not much of a moon, but Scofield could see Vasquez s eyes in the light from the living room. He watched them carefully while Vasquez answered his question. The vice cop s gaze never wavered. Art Prochaska, Breach s lieutenant, was arrested recently by the DEA. I leaned on him, and he agreed to talk about Cardoni if I helped him with his federal case and kept him out of this one. But you re not keeping him out of it. No, sir. Not now. We re talking serial murders. That changes a lot of things. Scofield nodded, but Vasquez thought he saw a glimmer of skepticism in the older man s features. Prochaska confirmed that Cardoni had been buying small, personal-use quantities from one of Breach s dealers until a few weeks ago, when he suddenly asked for two kilos. Cardoni checked out, so Breach sold him the dope. Prochaska told me that the doctor had a buyer and the sale was going down today. Scofield s jaw dropped and he almost lost his cigar. You mean Cardoni and his buyer could be on their way here right now? I don t think so. I think we missed the sale. I searched everywhere. The only cocaine I found was the