"Ocean Spray brand?" Rhyme asked wryly, looking at the jars.
"'Shiners' favorite container--because of the wide neck. You a drinking man?"
"Scotch only."
"Stick to that." Bell nodded at the bottles the officer carried out the door. "The feds and the Carolina tax department worry about their revenue. We worry about losing citizens. That batch there isn't too bad. But a lot of 'shine's laced with formaldehyde or paint thinner or fertilizer. We lose a couple people a year to bad batches."
"Why's it called moonshine?" Thom asked.
Bell answered, "'Cause they used to make it at night in the open under the light of the full moon--so they didn't need lanterns and, you know, wouldn't attract revenuers."
"Ah," said the young man, whose taste, Rhyme knew, ran to St. Emilions, Pomerols and white Burgundies.
Rhyme examined the room. "We'll need more power." Nodding at the single wall outlet.
"We can run some wires," Bell said. "I'll get somebody on it."
He sent a deputy off on this errand then explained that he'd called the state police lab at Elizabeth City and put in an emergency request for the forensic equipment Rhyme wanted. The items would be here within the hour. Rhyme sensed that this was lightning fast for Paquenoke County and he felt once more the urgency of the case.
In a sexual abduction case you usually have twenty-four hours to find the victim; after that they become dehumanized in the kidnapper's eyes and he doesn't think anything about killing them.
The deputy returned with two thick electrical cables that had multiple grounded outlets on the ends. He taped them to the floor.
"Those'll do fine," Rhyme said. Then he asked, "How many people do we have to work the case?"
"I've got three senior deputies and eight line deputies. We've got a communications staff of two and clerical of five. We usually have to share them with Planning and Zoning and DPW--that's been a sore spot for us--but 'causa the kidnapping and you coming here and all we'll have every one of 'em we need. The county supervisor'll support that. I talked to him already."
Rhyme gazed up at the wall. Frowning.
"What is it?"
"He needs a chalkboard," Thom said.
"I was thinking of a map of the area. But, yes, I want a blackboard too. A big one."
"Done deal," Bell said. Rhyme and Sachs exchanged smiles. This was one of Cousin Roland Bell's favorite expressions.
"Then if I could see your senior people in here? For a briefing."
"And air-conditioning," Thom said. "It needs to be cooler in here."
"We'll see what we can do," Bell said casually, a man who probably didn't understand the North's obsession with moderate temperatures.
The aide said firmly, "It's not good for him to be in heat like this."
"Don't worry about it," Rhyme said.
Thom lifted an eyebrow at Bell and said easily, "We have to cool the room. Or else I'm going to take him back to the hotel."
"Thom," Rhyme warned.
"I'm afraid we don't have any choice," the aide said.
Bell said, "Not a problem. I'll take care of it." He walked to the doorway and called, "Steve, come on in here a minute."
A young crew-cut man in a deputy's uniform walked inside. "This's my brother-in-law, Steve Farr." He was the tallest of the deputies they'd seen so far--easily six-seven--and had round ears that stuck out comically. He seemed only mildly uneasy at the initial sight of Rhyme and his wide lips soon slipped into an easy smile that suggested both confidence and competence. Bell gave him the job of finding an air conditioner for the lab.
"I'll get right on it, Jim." He tugged at his earlobe, turned on his heel like a soldier and vanished into the hall.