Wild Rage

by Tripp Ellis

I set the phone back on the nightstand and crawled out of bed. Rays of morning sun blasted through the windows.

  Maybe I wasn't in my right mind, but I had declined Paris’s rather enticing invitation. We had a little after-party on the boat, and there were plenty of alternatives.

  I showered, got dressed, and made my way down to the main deck. I banged on the door to the VIP guest suite and shouted at JD. "Rise and shine, Thrash. We've got work to do."

  JD groaned something inaudible through the hatch, and I moved into the galley and started cooking breakfast. I fixed ham and cheese omelettes and fried bacon. The smell of coffee filled the galley.

  JD emerged a few minutes later with his hair tousled and took a seat at the settee. I told him about my call with Daniels.

  Ivory and Kimber straggled into the galley not long after, wearing JD's T-shirts and wiping the sleep from their eyes. The oversized shirts fit them like short dresses. Pert bottoms nestled in cotton panties jiggled under the hemline.

  "Smells good," Ivory said, taking a seat next to Jack.

  JD had a mischievous grin on his face. There was no doubt he had fun last night.

  After breakfast, I took Buddy for a walk, and JD said goodbye to his visitors.

  We drove to the mini-mart and parked at the curb across the street. The teal waves crashed on Taffy Beach, and the sound of the surf filled the air. Gulls squawked overhead.

  It was a nice morning.

  We jogged across the street, darting between the traffic, and pushed inside the mini-mart. There were rows of snacks, candy, and grocery items. The back refrigerators were filled with beer and soft drinks. There were cartons of cigarettes behind the counter. I flashed my badge at Dustin, who sat behind the register. His eyes rounded with concern.

  “We’d like to talk to you about Lamar Bailey."

  "Why?"

  "Is he a friend of yours?"

  "Yeah," Dustin stammered.

  The door chimed as someone pushed into the store and strolled to the refrigerator.

  Dustin was a skinny guy with slightly greasy hair that was parted in the middle. He wore glasses and had a thin mustache and a narrow jaw that sort of disappeared into his neck.

  "How long have you been friends with Lamar?"

  "Dustin shrugged. "I don't know. 10 or 12 years, I guess.”

  "How did you two meet?"

  "We both play guitar. I met him at Mega Music. We were just jamming, and Lamar was really good. Better than I was at the time. I don't know, we got to be friends. We wrote a couple songs together. They kinda sucked, but it was fun. Why are you asking?"

  "Are you aware that Lamar has been arrested?”

  Dustin looked shocked. "What for?"

  "Did he ever talk to you about explosive devices?" I asked.

  "I knew that he got busted because he made some pipe bombs. He was never going to do anything with those. I think he was just big into pyrotechnics and that kind of thing. One time, before he was arrested, we had gotten some Blastrite™, and we went out in the boonies and blew shit up with it. But, you know, that was just screwing around type stuff."

  Blastrite was a binary explosive composed of an oxidizer and a fuel. It wasn’t flammable and could only be detonated by high-velocity rounds, making it popular among enthusiasts for target practice. Because it was made from two separate components that were mixed by the end-user, it bypassed many of the legal restrictions. You could load a pumpkin up with Blastrite, shoot it with a hunting rifle from 200 yards away, and blow it to kingdom come.

  "Did you guys ever talk about the bombing that killed Judge Perry or Charles Bamford?”

  "Do I need a lawyer or something?"

  "Not if you didn't do anything wrong," I said.

  His face crinkled. "Why would you think that I had something to do with that?"

  "I didn't say that you did. I'm just asking if you talked to Lamar about it."

  "Yeah, we talked about it. But we talked about a lot of shit. That’s not illegal, is it?”

  A customer brought a 12-pack of beer to the counter, looking at us curiously. He’d probably overheard bits of the conversation. We stepped aside while Dustin rang the sale up. The guy paid cash, and Dustin gave him change. The man strolled out of the mini-mart, and we had the place all to ourselves again.

  "I don't understand what you're getting at," Dustin said.

  "We think Lamar is responsible for the bombings. We also think he may have had an accomplice."

  Dustin raised his hands innocently. "Whoa! You guys need to slow your roll. Lamar never said anything to me about blowing anybody up. We speculated about the type of device, but that was it. Just curiosity type stuff. I can't say for sure that he did or didn't do it, but what I can tell you is that I didn't have anything to do with it."

  "After Lamar's arrest, we received another bomb threat. It was made from a cellular phone just down the block from here."

  "And you think I stepped out of the store, walked down the street, and called in a bomb threat?”

  I shrugged. "You two were close friends. You don't want to see your friend go to jail, do you?"

  "No, I don't want to see him go to jail. But I'm not gonna call in a bomb threat just to make him look good."

  "You know, if you cooperate with us now, before anyone else gets hurt, you’d be in a good position to negotiate a lesser penalty."

  Dustin’s face twisted again. "Lesser penalty? What are you talking about? I didn't do anything. You can't come in here and threaten me like this."

  "Nobody's threatening you. But if you know something, you need to tell us. Did Lamar ever talk to you about potential targets?"

  "No. I'm telling you, I don't think he's the guy you're looking for."

  "He's held extremist views in the past."

  "Define extremist?" Dustin said incredulously. "Just because somebody disagrees with you doesn't make them an extremist. So the guy made a couple of pipe bombs a long time ago. Big deal. He never used them. He never hurt anybody. He never even threatened to use those."

  "Why make them in the first place?"

  Dustin shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe to see if he could."

  Dustin was definitely worked up, and his skin misted with sweat.

  I gave him my card. "If you can think of anything that might help us find the next bomb, give me a call."

  "Does this mean I'm on some kind of government list now?"

  "Yeah, I’d say you're on a few," JD said.

  Dustin groaned.

  We left the store and stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “Think he knows something?” JD asked.

  “I think we need to keep tabs on him.”

  “Since this is the ATF’s investigation, I say we let them sit on him.” JD grinned.

  He hated stakeouts.

  We darted across the street and climbed into the Porsche. I dialed Payton’s number.

  34

  “I’ll see if we can get a warrant to tap his phone,” Agent Blake said after I updated her. “I’ll put a surveillance team on him and see where he leads.”

  “I don’t know if it will lead anywhere, but it’s worth a shot,” I said.

  “Agreed. Can you keep an eye on him until I get a surveillance van in place?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  JD wasn’t too thrilled about sitting in the car, watching the store, but he occupied his time by surfing the web and checking the rankings of his song.

  Dustin wasn't going anywhere. But I think we had spooked him pretty good. He kept peering out the window with wide eyes. He stepped out front, lit a cigarette, and puffed on it between customers. He stared right at us as we sat in the Porsche across the street.

  I waved at him and smiled.

  That unsettled him even further.

  We had time to kill, so I called Rex’s girlfriend, Jayleen, to follow up.

  "I'm sorry, deputy,” she said. “I just can't help you at this time."

  “Are you sure? Rex could be responsible for
the death of Helen Carter.”

  Jayleen hesitated. “I just can’t.”

  "You know how to get in touch with me if you change your mind."

  She hung up, and I slid the phone back into my pocket. It looked like we’d have to figure out another way to test the fibers on Rex Rayford's shirt.

  There was a steady stream of pedestrians strolling the sidewalk past the car. Teal waves crashed against the shore, and people sunned themselves on blankets atop the white sand. I watched a cute blonde zip by on rollerblades. Her knees and forearms were padded, and she wore a pink helmet.

  Daniels called a few minutes later. "Brenda got a positive ID on that body we pulled out of the water. The girl's name is Mindy Monroe. Just turned 18 years old, from Texas. She had a prior arrest record.

  "Mindy Monroe?" I said. "You're sure about that?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Nothing."

  "Brenda says it looks like the girl was sexually assaulted.”

  I cringed. "What was her juvenile arrest for?"

  "Shoplifting, and she was picked up on prostitution but wasn't charged."

  I cringed again.

  "I talked to her mother in Texas… Said Mindy ran away six months ago, hadn't heard from her since. From what I gathered, she didn't have the best home life. Abusive stepfather, that kind of thing."

  Hearing that kind of story broke my heart.

  “Send me a picture of the girl. We'll see what we can find out."

  After I ended the call, my phone buzzed with a text from the sheriff containing an image of Mindy smiling—happier times.

  She was a pretty young girl with a fresh face and the whole world ahead of her. I wondered if the girl in the photo had any idea of the terrible turn her life would take.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” I said to JD, showing him Mindy’s picture.

  He examined the photo with a grim frown. “Wasn’t Helen’s premonition about a girl named Mindy?”

  When I first heard about the premonition, I thought Helen might be picking up vibes about the Mandy Myers case we had solved. But it was clear Helen was more accurate than I had first thought. My skepticism was fading. “Maybe Madam Zykov wasn’t a phony after all?”

  JD gave me a doubtful glance.

  We continued to watch the mini-mart and passersby. Within an hour, I saw a utility van pull to the curb a block away. A text from agent Blake told me that her surveillance team was in position.

  JD cranked up the engine and peeled away from the curb.

  I told JD to drive to Dowling Street. It was a shady part of town where you could get just about anything you wanted for a price. 24 hours a day, seven days a week, purveyors of vice hung out on street corners and in stash houses.

  We cruised down the avenue with the top down and the wind swirling. We drove until I saw a familiar face. I motioned for JD to pull to the curb, and I smiled at the young lady leaning against the side of a building.

  Her name was Miracle. She wore the same green mini-skirt and purple tube top as the last time I saw her. I began to wonder if that was the only outfit she owned. She sauntered toward the car with a smile. Her knees were raw, and her shins bruised. Occupational hazard.

  "Did you change your mind?” she asked with a smirk. “Are you ready to experience a miracle?"

  I chuckled. "I don't know, you might be too much for me to handle.”

  "Sugar, I think you could handle just about anything."

  I showed her a picture of Mindy on my phone. "You recognize her?"

  "Yeah, I seen her around. Not in a few days, though. She in some kind of trouble?"

  "She's dead."

  Miracle’s eyes widened. "No shit? What happened?"

  "That's what we're trying to find out.”

  "She's new around here. Last couple months or so. She hangs around another girl, goes by the name of Raven."

  "What does Raven look like?"

  "Shoulder length dark hair, brown eyes, creamy skin, cute figure."

  "Do you know what her real name is?"

  "Sorry, I don't do that much research on my competition."

  “I’m sure a lady like you doesn't have any competition."

  "You silver-tongued devil. You know just what to say to a lady."

  I smiled.

  "This girl's real name is Mindy. Do you know what she went by on the street?"

  "She called herself Starr. Said that's what she was gonna be someday." Miracle sighed. "We all had dreams once. I know I did. Nice girl, sad to hear it."

  "Did she have a pimp?"

  "No, those girls were on their own. I told them that's dangerous business. You need somebody to look after you. But I see more and more girls going on their own. They think they can handle themselves. They get themselves a little gun and think they'll be okay. The problem is when you got a 250-pound man on top of you, choking you to death—and your purse is across the room—you can't get to your gun. It doesn't matter what you got. It ain’t gonna do you any good."

  “A pimp isn’t going to do you any good in that situation either,” I said.

  “True. But you take away a man's bread and butter, he's gonna come looking for you."

  I gave Miracle my card and told her to call me if she saw Raven or heard anything about Mindy.

  She smiled. "Honey, I might call you even if I don't see her."

  I smiled back at her, and JD pulled away from the curb. Miracle wiggled her fingers, and her metallic gold nails sparkled in the sunlight.

  We cruised up and down the boulevard a few times. We talked to a few more working girls but didn't see anyone that resembled the description of Raven. None of the other girls were as forthcoming as Miracle.

  I had an idea and thought maybe we could kill two birds with one stone.

  35

  Destiny Delight’s voice was smooth and seductive. It was warm, wet, and slippery. And that was just the outgoing message on her voicemail—I could only imagine what her hot breath would feel like whispering naughty nothings in my ear. I’m sure she’d give you the experience of your life. At least, that was the fantasy she intended to create.

  Destiny was no street girl. From the image she portrayed on her website, she was high class, offering a complete girlfriend experience. You could take her out to a fancy dinner or escape to a remote location for an exotic weekend, trotting across the globe. She was a companion for all occasions. One willing to indulge your every desire for a price.

  I left a message but didn’t mention I was with the Sheriff’s Department. I figured she might not return a call from a deputy, considering her line of work. But Destiny called me back a few minutes later. “Hey, Darling. This is Destiny. How can I fulfill you?”

  “I was hoping you could help me out.”

  “I’m sure I can give you exactly what you need. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

  “I’d like to meet and discuss arrangements in person to see if we’d be a fit.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find me a fit. A tight one.”

  “Do you have time this afternoon?” I asked. “The bar at the Seven Seas?”

  “I could meet for half an hour at 12:30 PM. Do you have a reference? I’m very cautious about meeting new people.”

  “Ed Perry,” I said.

  She hesitated. “That’s so terrible what happened. Were you a close friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m so sorry. I really liked Ed.”

  “Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Are you a cop?”

  I hesitated for an instant. She might very well hang up the phone. “I’m investigating Ed’s death. We have a suspect in custody, but there’s been another threat, and we think another bomb may already be in position.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Still have time to meet?”

  “Sure,” she said, dropping the seductive voice. “You could have just told me you were a deputy.”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

  She scoffed. “Please, you wouldn’t be the first deputy on my client list.”

  “I’ll see you shortly at the Seven Seas then?”

  “Yes, you will. Text me a picture, so I know who I’m looking for.”

  I ended the call and snapped a smiling selfie, then sent it to the sultry vixen.

  JD drove across the island to the posh hotel. We parked in the lot, strolled into the lobby, walked past the trickling waterfall, and stepped into the dim bar. We took a seat at a high-top table, and a cocktail waitress sauntered by a moment later to take our order.

  It was probably a little early to start drinking, so we ordered diet sodas. JD asked for a menu. It was getting close to lunchtime, and we could order items from the restaurant and have them served in the bar.

  JD ordered the turkey club sandwich, and I ordered a grilled chicken panini.

  Destiny arrived as we were finishing our meal. She sauntered into the bar and looked around. She picked us out immediately.

  Destiny wore a pink baseball cap with her long, silky brunette hair in a ponytail, threaded through the back. She wore oversized sunglasses, concealing her eyes. Her plump, pillowy lips were on full display. They were slick and glossy.

  Her black yoga pants hugged her form, and a tight V-neck top pushed together her sumptuous endowments. She had a flat, toned stomach. It was easy to see she did a lot of crunches. Destiny’s body was her business, and she took care of it. Her white sneakers gave her a little spring in her step. She took a seat at the table and glanced around cautiously.

  We made formal introductions.

  “Care for lunch?” I asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Thanks for meeting with us. I’ll just get down to business. How long had you been seeing Judge Perry?“

  Destiny thought for a moment. “I guess the better part of a year. I could check my records if it’s important.“

  “Did he ever confide in you?“

  “We talked quite a bit. Honestly, I think we talked more than we did other things. I’m a good listener.” She smiled. “A lot of my clients feel like they can’t talk to their wives. They can say anything they want to me.”