lemon, waiting for the phone call. They got it from an assistant county attorney named Larsen.
"I'd like to come along, but I'm stuck in court," she said.
"Next time," said Lucas.
On the way back to Ware's, Lucas mentioned to Del that Larsen would have liked to come. "I wonder why," Del said. "She gonna run for something? Get her picture taken?"
"I think she just likes the rush," Lucas said. "She's been along on a couple of entries."
JUST BEFORE FOUR o'clock, a Chevy van with the entry team backed into a parking space between Christmas Ink and Ware's office while two squads moved into position to block the back door. Lucas and Del parked down the block again, walked down to Christmas Ink, and went inside. The woman who'd been wearing the parka was on the phone. One of the men had left, but the other man and woman were still at their desks.
"You're back," the man said. He didn't look happy.
"Is there any way to tell if your neighbors are home?" Lucas asked. "I mean, without calling them on the phone?"
The parka lady said, "I gotta go," into the phone, hung up, and turned to Lucas. "UPS delivered something ten minutes ago, and somebody was there. I've been watching."
"All right," Lucas said. He took his phone out of his pocket, called the van, and said, "Go when you're ready."
LUCAS AND DEL stood in the window with the Christmas Ink people and watched the van unload. Carolyn Rie, the Sex Unit cop, led the way in her letter jacket. A uniformed cop followed just behind, carrying a sledge. Another uniformed cop and a computer specialist climbed out behind them.
Rie tried the door handle, shook her head no, stepped aside, and the uniformed cop lifted the sledge. As he started his backswing, Lucas and Del opened the door at Christmas Ink, and as the unmarked door at Ware's exploded inward from the impact of the hammer, they joined the surge into the office.
The front was exactly that: a front. Only seven or eight feet deep, it contained four chairs lined up against one wall, and a metal desk with a red telephone. A door, closed, led into the back. The uniformed cop didn't bother to try the knob, but simply kicked it, and the door flew open.
The back room was huge: a warehouse space draped with rolls of backdrop paper. A plush red couch was sitting on one of the rolls; a brass bedstead with a king-size mattress was pushed into a corner. A table held lamps, and two floor lamps stood behind them. There were five strobes on their light stands, two of them covered with soft-boxes, and more lighting equipment sat on another side table.
A short, balding man sat on the couch, holding a camera the size of a shoe box; he was frozen in place. Another man, older, taller, wearing a crisp white shirt and gray slacks, was walking briskly toward a desk full of computer equipment. The computer cop yelled, "Hey, hey hey . . ." and the man walked faster, reaching, and the computer cop ran straight into him and pushed him away from the computer desk.
The man in the white shirt started screaming at the computer cop: "Get away, get away, get away, this is all illegal this is all illegal get away . . ."
Another man, who had been out of sight behind a lighting rack, walked to the back door and punched it open: Two cops stood there, and he turned back. "Hey, what's happening . . ."
Then the guy on the couch with the big camera stood up and said, "I'm leaving. I'm not even supposed to be here."
"Everybody shut up," Rie shouted. "We're Minneapolis police. You two guys . . ." She pointed at the man who'd tried the back door, and the man by the couch. "Sit. Just sit."
"I want to call my lawyer," the man in the white shirt shouted.
Lucas walked over to him. "How are you, Morris?" he asked. "You remember me?"
Ware looked at Lucas for a moment, then said, "No. I don't. I want my attorney, and I want him now."
"Somebody give Mr. Ware a copy of the warrant," Lucas said. And to one of the squad cops from the blocking car: "Then take him out front
"I'd like to come along, but I'm stuck in court," she said.
"Next time," said Lucas.
On the way back to Ware's, Lucas mentioned to Del that Larsen would have liked to come. "I wonder why," Del said. "She gonna run for something? Get her picture taken?"
"I think she just likes the rush," Lucas said. "She's been along on a couple of entries."
JUST BEFORE FOUR o'clock, a Chevy van with the entry team backed into a parking space between Christmas Ink and Ware's office while two squads moved into position to block the back door. Lucas and Del parked down the block again, walked down to Christmas Ink, and went inside. The woman who'd been wearing the parka was on the phone. One of the men had left, but the other man and woman were still at their desks.
"You're back," the man said. He didn't look happy.
"Is there any way to tell if your neighbors are home?" Lucas asked. "I mean, without calling them on the phone?"
The parka lady said, "I gotta go," into the phone, hung up, and turned to Lucas. "UPS delivered something ten minutes ago, and somebody was there. I've been watching."
"All right," Lucas said. He took his phone out of his pocket, called the van, and said, "Go when you're ready."
LUCAS AND DEL stood in the window with the Christmas Ink people and watched the van unload. Carolyn Rie, the Sex Unit cop, led the way in her letter jacket. A uniformed cop followed just behind, carrying a sledge. Another uniformed cop and a computer specialist climbed out behind them.
Rie tried the door handle, shook her head no, stepped aside, and the uniformed cop lifted the sledge. As he started his backswing, Lucas and Del opened the door at Christmas Ink, and as the unmarked door at Ware's exploded inward from the impact of the hammer, they joined the surge into the office.
The front was exactly that: a front. Only seven or eight feet deep, it contained four chairs lined up against one wall, and a metal desk with a red telephone. A door, closed, led into the back. The uniformed cop didn't bother to try the knob, but simply kicked it, and the door flew open.
The back room was huge: a warehouse space draped with rolls of backdrop paper. A plush red couch was sitting on one of the rolls; a brass bedstead with a king-size mattress was pushed into a corner. A table held lamps, and two floor lamps stood behind them. There were five strobes on their light stands, two of them covered with soft-boxes, and more lighting equipment sat on another side table.
A short, balding man sat on the couch, holding a camera the size of a shoe box; he was frozen in place. Another man, older, taller, wearing a crisp white shirt and gray slacks, was walking briskly toward a desk full of computer equipment. The computer cop yelled, "Hey, hey hey . . ." and the man walked faster, reaching, and the computer cop ran straight into him and pushed him away from the computer desk.
The man in the white shirt started screaming at the computer cop: "Get away, get away, get away, this is all illegal this is all illegal get away . . ."
Another man, who had been out of sight behind a lighting rack, walked to the back door and punched it open: Two cops stood there, and he turned back. "Hey, what's happening . . ."
Then the guy on the couch with the big camera stood up and said, "I'm leaving. I'm not even supposed to be here."
"Everybody shut up," Rie shouted. "We're Minneapolis police. You two guys . . ." She pointed at the man who'd tried the back door, and the man by the couch. "Sit. Just sit."
"I want to call my lawyer," the man in the white shirt shouted.
Lucas walked over to him. "How are you, Morris?" he asked. "You remember me?"
Ware looked at Lucas for a moment, then said, "No. I don't. I want my attorney, and I want him now."
"Somebody give Mr. Ware a copy of the warrant," Lucas said. And to one of the squad cops from the blocking car: "Then take him out front
Similar Books
