“Well done,” Lieutenant Brewer said yet again as they got ready to leave the station house. “With all the evidence we found in his office we should be able to close down that ring for good now.” He chuckled. “Wilker is still pissing and moaning about being taken down by a man half his size.”
Vergil laughed. “That will teach him to make assumptions.” He glanced around and then sighed. “Guess I’m going back to my place looking like I just spent a month living in the same clothes.” When the lieutenant cocked an eyebrow in question Vergil told him he must have left his bag in the cab he took to Frankie’s.
“You really should keep spare clothes here you know. I’d offer you the loan of some of mine but…”
“I’d look like a kid wearing my father’s hand-me-downs. Well no biggie. Catch you later.”
A few minutes later he was in his car, heading to his house on the outskirts of the city. The rising sun shimmered on the wet leaves of the trees as he pulled into his driveway. Getting out of the car he stretched, savoring the fresh smells from the flowerbed at the side of the house, and others from the herb garden at the back. He picked a pair of daffodils before going inside. In the kitchen he found a vase for them which he set on the dining room table on his way upstairs. He showered quickly then fell into bed, his last thought being that he’d have to stop by the cab company to see if his bag had been turned in.
* * * *
The bag hadn’t been turned in, as Vergil found out late that afternoon when he went to the cab company.
“Can you call the driver and see if he has it?” Vergil asked the secretary in the front office.
She looked at the time and shook her head. “He’s not on duty until seven and never responds to calls until then. Now if you want to wait for him you can, assuming he even comes in, which he almost never does. And before you ask, we never give out drivers’ addresses, or phone numbers.”
Taking out his wallet, Vergil showed her his shield. “This is police business. I need the get that bag back as soon as possible.
She looked from his shield to his face, then back at the shield, scribbling down the ID number on the front. He was surprised, and had a bit more respect for her common sense, when she called to be certain he was who he said. Finally satisfied she opened a file on her computer and wrote down a street address.
“If you get lucky you might catch him before he hits the streets.”
“Thank you, ma'am.”