“I’ll call you back.”

He called back in about five minutes.

“The whole parking lot is covered. The store maintains them.”

“Great. What’s chances of getting a warrant for the tapes the day Vitole was killed?”

“Based on what?”

“New evidence.” I explained about Sproles being in witness protection and my suspicions.

“That’s quite the fishing expedition. I doubt we could get a judge to issue a warrant based on that. Particularly since my boss considers this a closed case and doesn’t like you. And because of privacy laws that shroud public surveillance videos.”

“I figured as much. Thanks.”

I hung up the phone, lit my last cigarette ever and looked at Rodney.

“Did you make that appointment with Overbee?”

“Yes.”

“Did it have a good outcome?”

“Yes.”

“You understand that I don’t know anything about that?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Go on line, and see if you can find a blank warrant form for evidence in a criminal case.”

Tap, click, tap. “Got it, Uncle Stanley.”

“Print a copy on Willa’s laser.”

He did that and brought the form to me. I scribbled what I wanted on the scratch form and gave it to Rodney.

“Fill in a new copy with a typewriter font, print it, and sign the judge’s name.”

“You’re kidding,” he said. “Judge Roy Bean?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I got Roscoe out of the safe and clipped it to my belt. With my official-looking counterfeit warrant in hand, I headed out to go shopping.

Belksdales is on the east side of town in an upscale shopping center north of the Interstate. It’s one of the bigger stores there and has its own parking lot.

I went inside and went through the store to management’s offices. I asked a receptionist for directions to security. She sent me down a flight of stairs into a small glass-enclosed space with a wrap-around console housing video monitors surrounding a chair. An elderly man in the usual ill-fitting uniform sat dozing in the chair. His name tag said Jim.

I tapped him on the shoulder. He came awake and looked me up and down. Here I was, a man with fading bruises on his face, casts on his arm and leg, and a crutch, and I was interrupting his busy day. He looked annoyed until I flashed the gold P.I. shield at him. He came to attention and said, “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

The gold shield again. Best thirty bucks I ever spent.

“Got a warrant here for copies of your parking lot videos.” I held up the warrant and told him the date and times.

“I should probably run this by the general manager,” Jim said, “but he went home. Can you wait until tomorrow?”

“No. This is for a murder investigation. You might have read about it, Jim. A fellow got shot down in the street in one of the southern subdivisions. I’m under a lot of pressure to close this case.”

“Oh, yeah. Right near his own house. I remember it was on the news. Didn’t you guys get the killer?”

“We did, but our case is weak. He might walk on a technicality. He’s rich and can afford the best lawyers. All we have is a limited budget and not enough manpower. Hell, man, you’re in law enforcement. You know the job.”

He seemed pleased that I included him among the finest.

“Seems the criminals have all the rights and the poor victims ain’t got none,” Jim said. “Have a seat over there, please. It’ll take a bit of time.”

I sat and waited while Jim typed on his console’s keyboard. After a couple of minutes he got up and brought a DVD and handed it to me.

“Always happy to help my brothers on the force,” he said. “Don’t take the stairs. There’s a freight elevator down that hall. I use it. Ain’t getting any younger, myself.”

I thanked him, went to the elevator, and up and out to my car. I drove back to the office whistling all the way. I hoped the video would prove my theory.

I gave Rodney the DVD and said, “Watch the whole thing. There will be several clips, one for each camera. Look for the Rolls. Pull off any sequences in which there is activity around the Rolls, and make a video of only those scenes. Put the new video on another DVD, and make three copies. Put one in the safe. I’ll take the other two.”

“You got it, Uncle Stanley.”

Why do people always say that before you get anything?

“No I don’t,” I said. “But I will after you’ve done what I ask.”

“How do I get into the safe?”

“Willa has the combination. I’ll look at the DVD tomorrow. I’m whipped, and I’m out of here.”

Dinner at Ray’s was quiet. Bunny tried to ignore me while I ate, but whenever I glanced over at her, she was staring at me and quickly looked away.

I went home alone after I ate. I needed a night off. I had a couple books I wanted to read, and I tried that but couldn’t get into either one. The case had me preoccupied. I was dead sure that one of those three people had killed Vitole, and I hoped the DVD would prove it. If it didn’t show anyone opening the trunk, then the culprit had to be Ramon or Missy. Neither Buford nor Sanford were stupid enough to keep a murder weapon where the cops would find it. And Serena had an air-tight alibi.

I went outside and tried walking up and down the sidewalk without my crutch. That was almost a success. I only fell down once.

A man came running up and helped me to my feet.

“You should get a cane,” he said.

I thanked him and went back to the apartment to get my crutch. I drove to Walmart and bought a ten-dollar cane. That worked well, and I went home and put the crutch in the hall closet next to its brother.

I mulled everything over for a while thinking about the case. I couldn’t stand it any more. I went outside and drove to the office. I hoped I didn’t slip with the cane and fall down the stairs.

I made it upstairs, went in the office, and got the DVD from the safe. There was no way to watch it in the office. Normally, we’d use Rodney’s laptop, but he’d taken it home with him. Maybe Willa’s computer could do it, but I didn’t know how.

I went back to the apartment and watched the DVD. Rodney had done a good job of editing. It started with Buford’s Rolls pulling up to the curb at about nine in the morning. Serena got out and walked away from the car.

I could’ve stayed right there watching Serena walk, but I had work to do.

The scene changed to the parking lot where the Rolls pulled into a space. Ramon got out and walked away. The scene faded out and then back in when the car left the parking space. The time stamp showed it to be about eleven o’clock.

The next scene, at about noon, showed the Rolls returning, pulling up to the curb, and letting Missy out. Then the car parked in another space, and Ramon got out and walked away.

So far, the video bore out what Ramon had told me. The surprise came next.

At about one-thirty a panel van pulled up next to the Rolls. I could make out the Arnold Locksmith and Security logo on the side. The driver got out and looked around. The resolution of the video wasn’t good enough to clearly show his face, but it was William Sproles, there was no doubt about that. The shape of his head, his hair, and his mannerisms all fit. I wished we could do what they do on CSI and zoom in and sharpen the image, but that’s only on television.

Sproles was holding a box. He took the box to the rear of the Rolls and opened the trunk.

Sproles returned to the van, got something else, which could have been a gun. He put it in the trunk of the Rolls and closed the trunk lid. Then he returned to the van, got in, and drove away.

This was what I needed, a video of someone, anyone planting something in Buford’s Rolls where the cops had found the gun. It being someone closely related to the crime made it that much better. Of course, none of the details in the low-res video could clearly identify him or verify without a doubt that that’s what he was doing. Any moderately competent defense lawyer would have a field day shooting down the evidence, particularly since it was obtained with a bogus warrant, and given the quality of the video. But maybe it would be enough to coerce a confession.