Chapter 9

After I finished my beer – hurriedly, for I hate beer when it's gone flat and I would have hated to throw it out – I went back into the study. I needed to finish going through the threats, as little as I wanted to, but before I did that I had a phone call to make. I picked up the mess I'd made, grimacing when I realized that I'd need to go through it all, and put it back in order, before I could pick up where I'd left off. I dumped it all back into the accordion file, for now, and pulled my notes out. I don't make many notes when I'm interviewing someone, for I have just enough memory to remember what I need to until I can write it down later. I've found that, for me at least, it's better to be able to observe someone's expressions and body language than it is to write everything down at the moment.

Somewhere in my notes were the name, address, and phone number of the company that was providing security for the abortion mill. I couldn't find it, though, in my handwritten notes, though I knew I'd gotten it from Dr. Bernard. I wondered if I'd missed a sheet of paper, but I didn't see one in the accordion file. Finally I just turned the file upside down – with another grimace, for I was making another mess on top of the first. Pawing through the pile of stuff, I found the reason I hadn't located the security information in my notes – Dr. Bernard had given me the company's card.

I dialed the number. A male voice answered, and I asked for the name on the card, which was Dale Volker – the card called him CEO. Of course anyone can give himself any title he wants, and in my experience most security companies aren't big enough to have an actual chief executive officer – just a boss, and some supervisors. Most security for small businesses comes from small security companies; it costs too much to retain outfits like Pinkerton or Wackenhut for anyone but big businesses to employ them.

The male voice had me hold a moment, and I listened to Muzak. I hate Muzak. I'd rather hear nothingness while I'm waiting on the phone. But I didn't have a whole lot of choice, so I listened to Muzak. Finally another male voice came on. "This is Dale Volker."

"Yeah, this is Darvin Carpenter, a PI here in Albuquerque. I don't know if you've heard of me—"

"I have, yeah."

"Well, the Planned Pregnancy Center has asked me to try to find out who's been threatening 'em – I imagine you're aware of the threats—"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Okay. Well, while y'all are guarding the place they've asked me to try to find the person, or people, who're doing it, and as part of the initial investigation I've been going through the threats – the letters and phone calls. I haven't got through 'em all, but I've heard and read enough that I'd thought I'd pass on a recommendation."

"What is it, pal?" He didn't have any sort of accent, so I gathered he was a native western Anglo, but his manners belonged in the Bronx.

"Based on some of these threats, I'd be very careful. If I were running the gig, I'd have at least two guards on the post, and I'd have 'em armed."

"You got any experience with security, pal?"

"I'm an ex-cop, and I've run security here and there a few times. Most recently I provided security for a woman down in the southeast part of town – her ex-husband was stalking her."

"I think I know that one – the perp got himself shot, right?"

"Right." I didn't care for his callous way of referring to it, but that wasn't the point. "Anyway, I've got some experience, and I really would recommend armed guards, and at least two at a time."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and when he did his voice was much less confident. "You know, we're not really set up for something like that. I've got three armed guards, but mostly we just guard businesses – you know, make sure the doors are locked, warn off suspicious people, report broken windows. This is a small company, and we just don't have the people or the training for a major problem."

I took in a deep breath. "Then we've got a problem. Maybe I'm wrong, and I hope I am. But I think we're dealing with a murderous psychopath here, and I'm worried that something'll set him off if we don't find him. And I'd hate to see someone get hurt because the security wasn't what it ought to be. It's nothing against y'all – I suppose you didn't know what you were getting into. I don't think Dr. Bernard knows what she's got holt of – I haven't yet reported to her, just took the case yesterday."

I had no idea what Volker looked like, but I had an image of him rubbing his hand over his head. Probably he wasn't doing anything of the sort during the pause. "I'll do what I can," he said. "Like I said, I've only got three armed people, but I'll have one of them there tonight."

"Y'all aren't doing security during the day, are you?"