depend on which agency would take the lead. The CIA would definitely be more interested in the spies as would the FBI. They’ve made deals with murderers to get information on another case of greater importance to them.”
I just sat there trying to imagine Land’s background that would include dealings with the FBI and the CIA. To me, he would always be this incredible chef, but I knew that he had a past—one that he refused to talk about personally. He would share details about the type of work he’d done, as he was doing now, but he would never breathe a word about how he’d been involved.
“If the murder was related to the spy case,” he continued, “definitely. You’re talking one person against the fate of a country or a city or a building. You don’t know what they have planned, so it’s not possible to put a death count on it. It could pose a major threat. Janelle’s murder is just one person, and she was part of the group who was involved in the major threat.”
I tried to understand what he was saying, but in my world, murder was the worst thing a person could do. One person or hundreds, it was still murder, and the killer needed to be brought to justice. Maybe that’s why I had such a need to help out on these investigations. I liked to see things put right and for justice to be served. I liked the thought that I was so civic minded, but I also knew a part of me wanted to show up Detective Danvers as well, since he was trying to keep me out of this matter.
“So what are our chances of getting the truck any time in the near future?” I asked.
Land shrugged. “When I work with the department, it’s always through Danvers. I have no idea what the rest of those department heads and supervisors would say about releasing a key piece of evidence to a civilian before they could bring a case to trial.”
I sighed. He was right about that. The defendant would not be able to examine all the evidence if Land had been cooking gyros in it for six months. “Either way, we need to solve this murder. If it’s not related to what Janelle was doing, then we need to solve it so that they’ll release the truck. Otherwise, we need to get them to release the truck so that it can work as a meeting place for the couriers.”
Land looked at me for a long moment. “So is this really going to happen?” he asked. “The truck?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t have started a list if I didn’t think it would,” I said with a smile. “But let me ask you a question. What do you know about Morocco?” I thought again about Janelle’s mother and the photos on the table.
Land’s eyes went wide. “Where exactly did that come from?” he asked. His tone was suddenly wary.
“I think that Janelle’s mother might be of Moroccan extract. She had a very beautiful exotic look to her, and I recognized the Moroccan flag in some of the photos in the house. I wondered if that might be the foreign country that Danvers was talking about.”
Land gave a long, low whistle. “The country in question is actually Algeria, which has had a running feud with Morocco for ages. Right now, you can’t even cross the border from one to the other. They’re having some squabble about the Western Sahara, as if you should fight about tons of sand.”
“So that’s a possibility?” I asked, feeling quite proud of myself. Who knew that college level geography classes could come in so handy?
Land moved his hand back and forth. “Maybe, but if it is true, then we have some serious issues. A Moroccan would never leak information to Algeria. If this is the case, then I’m thinking we might have a double-cross on our hands.”
I tried to follow his line of thinking, but he was making leaps of logic miles ahead of where I was. “So you think that if Janelle was passing information to Algeria, then she could have been falsifying it so that it would be worthless? That’s a hell of a motive for murder.”
Land agreed. She’d been playing a