Free 2 - Secrets: Ike Schwartz Mystery 2 by Frederick Ramsay Page B

not bother to read. She tore the note up and switched on her window unit. It clunked and then hummed to life. For a minute or two, she stood in front of the vents letting the chilled air blow on her.
    The computer running the fingerprint program beeped and MATCHED appeared on her screen underneath the print it had wedded to hers. She clicked on “details” and “print.” The laser printer whined into life and a single sheet of paper swished out. She inspected it, frowned and started for the intercom, thought better of it, and walked around the corner to Ike’s office. She’d finish Templeton’s computer work later.
    “Ike,” she said, “I think we have a problem.”
    “What kind of a problem?”
    She handed him the sheet of paper. He glanced at it and then read it through slowly.
    “This is a joke, right?”
    “Don’t think so. That phone number looks like Quantico to me.”
    “They want us to hold this guy until a Special Agent Hedrick arrives to take him into custody. If he is not already in custody, we are to arrest him and hold him until this Hedrick guy arrives as he is a likely flight risk. Are these guys complete idiots? He’s dead, for crying out loud. Unless they think he’s an angel with wings, he isn’t flying anywhere. What are they thinking about?”
    Sam shrugged. “They probably missed that part. Actually they never asked for particulars, and we didn’t offer any. We should call that number and tell them, but look at the sheet. It’s blank except for his name which, by the way, is not Waldo Templeton.”
    “No surprise there.”
    “They didn’t give us anything else except that they say there’s an outstanding warrant out for his arrest,” she continued.
    “Okay. Get back on your computer and search for…what’s his real name?”
    “Walter Krueger.”
    “If he’s wanted by the FBI, there’s bound to be something on him elsewhere. I’ll call this number and explain about the late Walter Krueger’s unlikely prospects for flight.”
    She listened as Ike dialed the phone number on the sheet. He put on the speaker phone and was greeted by a robotic voice informing him that Section Chief Bullock was not available and that he should leave a message.
    “This is Sheriff Ike Schwartz in Picketsville, Virginia. Please call me ASAP about Walter Krueger.”
    Sam retreated to her lair, leaving Ike to sort that one out.

Chapter Fourteen
    Monday started out with Blake feeling like the Eighty-second Airborne had spent the night doing maneuvers on his head. Sunday boomeranged back at him—his sermon, Mary Miller, and Gloria. He looked at his watch. Eight o’clock on Labor Day morning.
    He’d planned to fly to Philadelphia Sunday evening to visit his sister Irene, her husband, Bob, and his nieces and nephew. In fact he’d left Irene’s phone number with Millie Bass, just in case an emergency came up. He’d called Irene at the last minute and begged off.
    “Are you all right, Blake?” she’d asked.
    “Fine, great, just a little under the weather. It has been a very bad couple of days.”
    He filled her in on the murder.
    “Murder? Blake, that’s awful. What will you do, I mean, did you have blood all over the place? Wow, a murder.”
    “Please, Irene, enough. No blood—well, a little—but the whole business seemed so matter of fact, once you got over the shock. It felt like the scene of an automobile accident, not a murder, and the local top cop heard about what happened in Philadelphia, or what he thinks happened in Philadelphia. He’s a sheriff. Can you believe it? His deputies all wear Smokey the Bear hats and sound like they just stepped out of The Dukes of Hazzard— wee-hah! Anyway the sheriff implied Templeton, that’s the dead guy’s name, might have known about it, too, and might have been blackmailing me.”
    “Blake, nothing happened, did it? There are no grounds for blackmail.”
    “You know that. I know that. The police do not know that. But that is not the worst