Monday, November 16, 2009

Part Two: Bodies. Chapter Sixteen

Once Alex was finished putting his things in storage, it was time for him to take action. He found a Starbucks, paid the wifi fee, and logged on to the internet using his laptop. He did a phone book search for the last name Wozcynski. There were several in the greater Seattle area, but none with the first initials L or R for L. Randolph Wozcynski, the detective. It was, thankfully, a rare name.

Alex pulled out his pre-paid cell phone and called the number for Wozcynski, J, in Kirkland. He dialed the code first that would mask his phone's number.

“N'yello?”

“Hi, there, I'm calling for Randy,” Alex said, taking a stab in the dark with the name.

“Randy? Sorry, he don't live here. This is his brother, Jimmy.”

“Oh, hey. Listen, I'm just starting to do my Christmas cards and last year Randy's card came back to me. I'm just looking for his address.”

“Oh. Well I can't help you, I'm sorry. The wife takes care of that kind of thing and she ain't here.”

“Damn. Well, listen, could you help me out with his number at least?”

“Well...”

“I'm a retired sergeant and I've been getting the runaround with all the official offices, you know how that goes, and I understand. I was just trying to get his address the old fashioned way.”

“Just a second. Yeah, here you go.” Jimmy Wozcynski rattled off his brother's home phone number. “Tell him not to be such a stranger. You'd think he lived in another state.”

“I sure will. Thank you much.”

“No problem.”

Alex hung up, grinning. People were so easy so much of the time. He dialed the number he'd been given. He cleared his throat and put on a friendly voice.

“Hel-lo!” A child's voice answered the phone.

“Hi, sweetie, is your mommy there?”

There was a rustling on the other end of the phone.

“I'm sorry about that. Who is this?”

“This is Mike Martin at the King County police pension office, Mrs. Wozcynski. I have some files here we need to send you for your husbands 401k, but they got returned unknown address. Could you give me the correct address, ma'am?”

“Oh, of course. It's 29132, 48th Avenue SE, 98093.”

“Excellent. And this is a good number to reach you?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well that was easy! Thanks so much for your time.”

“Thank you.”

Well, shit, he thought to himself, putting the phone away. Sometimes things just worked out the way you wanted them to.

He pulled up Google maps and entered the address Mrs. Wozcynski had given him. It was in Auburn, just a few miles from the body dump. It was an area he had grown very familiar with.

He thought of the tools that he had in his car. He would have to get to his van and get his kits out of it. He was going to make a trip, but this time, unusually, he did not plan on bringing anything home with him.

Google Street View showed him that the Wozcynski homestead was on a small culdesac, backing onto a green belt. Unfortunate for the family, but very useful to him. He sighed with satisfaction. He had another hour of driving ahead of him, which would give him lots of time to develop delicious plans in his mind. He wouldn't have time to get to all of them, no doubt, but it would be a worth distraction on the way.

He turned his mind to other things and checked his email while waiting for his erection to fade so he could leave. It was going to be a good night.

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