Say Goodbye

Gi

Four nights later, however, Dinchara remained a no-show, which was starting to make the team anxious. Sal had had to practically beg, borrow, and steal to get this level of GBI resource. In another night, two if the operation didn’t deliver results, that would be that.

“Turns out,” Sal continued, headset co

“Eight hundred dollars?” Kimberly asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Females are expensive. They live two to three times as long as the males, plus can be used for breeding. Which was the other education I received-you have no idea how many articles exist on how to sex a tarantula.”

Kimberly stared at him.

“It’s a big deal,” he assured her. “How’d you like to fork out the extra money for a female, only to get sent a male by mistake?”

“I can honestly say I hope never to have that problem.”

“Then there are the various spider societies,” he continued. “Plus ArachnoCon, the a

“No kidding.”

“I also turned up allusions to illegal imports of spiders,” Sal supplied briskly. “The really exotic specimens aren’t widely available for enthusiasts, and some guys-or gals-don’t like to wait. Hey, as long as a Colombian is importing drugs why not also throw in a Xenesthis immanis as well and make a quick extra grand?”

“A xenthis whatis?”

“Xenesthis immanis. It’s a kind of tarantula, has purple markings at the leg joints, ending in silver tips. Gotta say, online photo looked very pretty. Not that I’m in the market. Point is, that particular species isn’t available due to the current ban on Colombian imports. So the rabid collector might resort to a backdoor deal instead. Spider gets shipped to Mexico, from Mexico to Texas, from Texas to rabid collector, with lots of palms greased in between. Happens more often than you think.”

“Given that I haven’t thought about it at all,” Kimberly muttered, “that’s probably true.”

“It gives us another angle,” Sal stated. “Say Dinchara shows up and we get enough on tape to have probable cause for a warrant. Well, unless he leaves his bloody gloves out in the open, chances are we aren’t making an arrest that afternoon. On the other hand, the Department of Wildlife or the USDA or whoever the hell it is that has jurisdiction over creepy crawlies might be able to hold him on charges of illegal arachnid import. And that gives us more time and excuses to dig into his affairs.”

“Nice thinking,” Kimberly said, impressed.

“Well, that is plan B,” Sal replied modestly. “Originally, I was thinking we could use the spider angle to track him down, but once I realized a third of Atlanta has an arachnid fetish, I had to change gears.”

“I wonder about the tattoos,” Kimberly murmured. “That’s an impressive tat climbing up Gi

“We should photograph her neck,” Sal agreed. “Get the picture into circulation; see if someone recognizes the artist. Oh, what I’d give to have a real task force at my disposal.”

“You mean, with officers other than our current overworked duo, one of whom may have to abandon the investigation in order to give birth?”

“It’s a complication.”

“Story of my life,” Kimberly said drily. “Complicated.”

She sighed, staring out the front windshield of the van. She didn’t want to think about her personal life. The tenuous détente that marked her day-to-day interactions with Mac. That fact that they had one week to figure out the rest of their lives, and here they were, day four and she was once again working late.

Mac didn’t ask her anymore. Didn’t pry. He just waited, and she found his silence more u

He should take the supervisory position in Sava

Except that didn’t sound like her. She was selfish, emotionally stunted, and obsessed with work. And, in her own way, she was happy.

“We got conversation.” Moffatt, the technician, spoke up.

Sal and Kimberly snapped to attention, obediently tuning in to their headphones. So far, Gi

This, however, appeared more serious.

“We need to talk,” Gi

“Why aren’t you working?” a man was asking. “Get out there and shake that moneymaker, honey.”

“First, we need to talk,” Gi

Sal lifted the black handheld radio from his lap, broadcasting to Special Agent Sparks: “We need a visual: unidentified male, currently speaking with Miss Jones.”

“Roger that” came the crackling reply, then a short pause as Sparks made her way through the club.

“I want a blood test,” Gi

“I have a visual,” Special Agents Sparks reported in a low murmur. “I see a white male, approximately mid thirties, five foot ten, one hundred sixty, one hundred seventy pounds. Wearing dark brown workman’s boots, blue denim, and long-sleeved green shirt, rolled up to the forearms. Has a worn red baseball cap pulled down low over his face, obscuring his features.”

“What the fuck?” the man was grumbling harshly. “You called me down here for a blood test? What’d I look like to you, an HMO?”

“I need money-”

“Then get back to work!”

“I can’t work,” Gi

“Shoulda thought of that four months ago. You wa