Virgil, now seriously bummed, went out to his truck and called Frankie, asked her how she was feeling. Better, she said. The morning sickness had receded, at least temporarily. He told her what had happened with the bell recordings.

“Sounds like you were trying to avoid an actual investigation,” she said. “Where would figuring out the boom and bang get you? You checked all the various directions and didn’t get anywhere.”

“Thanks.”

“I speak only the truth,” she said. “Go work harder.”

“It’s weird—I’m both frantic and bored. I gotta find this guy, but I’d rather be home with you.”

“The harder you work, the sooner you’ll get here.”

He told her about arresting Van Den Berg and the circumstances surrounding it. “Good for you,” she said. “You know what I think about that kind of thing.”

She’d once been attacked by a couple of hired thugs outside a convenience store when they’d mistaken her for somebody else. Retribution had been exacted, in the guise of several Armenians armed with baseball bats who thought they were doing Virgil a favor by beating up her attacker. Virgil disapproved, in theory, but Frankie admitted that the men had greatly lifted her spirits and she sent a thank-you note and a bottle of top-end Artsakh to the chief Armenian.

—

When he got off the phone, Virgil sat in his truck for a while, thinking about his next move. He couldn’t think of anything relevant, so what he did next had nothing to do with the shootings. He called a friend named Bell Wood, a major crimes investigator with the Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation.

“Virgil fuckin’ Flowers,” Wood said when he picked up his phone. “The poor girl’s answer to soft porn.”

Virgil asked, “Did you guys lose a trailerload of Legos last year?”

“Not only that, we lost the trailer,” Wood said. “You wouldn’t know where they are, would you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Virgil said. “They might not be there long. One of your suspects is in jail up here for beating up his girlfriend. He’ll probably get out tomorrow morning, and he’ll probably be afraid that she or one of her friends will rat him out and he’ll move everything.”

“Give me the details,” Wood said. “There’s a ten-thousand-dollar reward from the insurance company, but since you’re a law enforcement officer, you don’t qualify.”

“I was told this by the girlfriend, so maybe she would,” Virgil said. “She could use the money.”

“Probably. But since she’d be dealing with the weasels from an insurance company, I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Wood said. “In the meantime: details.”

Virgil told him the whole story, and Wood said, “What? They’re down here in Iowa?”