“Yeah, yeah. What?”
“I believe he loved me with all of his heart, and if he did disappear and isn’t dead, then he did it to protect me. Maybe his family was in dire straits or danger, and he didn’t want me to be involved or hurt, if that is the case. But in my heart, I know he’s dead.” I choked on the last words.
“I believe what you believe,” Charles said. “Now let’s go find us some drug dealing scum.”
I sighed, relieved to have that conversation nipped.
The Montecito Estates was no longer considered McMansions, but back when they were built, the tract housing neighborhood was cutting edge, and many wealthy families clamored to purchase the homes. They were still well maintained, but the wealthy homeowners had moved on, and it was obvious many of these homes were now rentals.
Though Charles hated to be the passenger, he rode quietly in the last few moments, reading something on his phone. When I turned off Ambrose Drive and then approached Montecito Way, Charles looked up and said, “There. That’s the house.”
I looked at the address on my GPS, and he was right. I’d have been fine navigating with the GPS, but for some reason, Charles needed to be the one to point out the house.
Cortnie was right; this house didn’t look like it belonged to someone accepting government assistance. As we approached, I changed my point of view slightly. The unkempt yard, and children’s playhouse on the front lawn screamed low rent. Not another house on the block had long grass or weeds, and definitely no toys in the front yard.
The car in the driveway was a Mercedes, but it was a model from the eighties. My favorite era for Mercedes, when the cars actually looked different from all the others, and you didn’t have to get close enough to see the logo to know it was a Mercedes. The car was light metallic blue, and sparkled like it had just come off the showroom floor.
Even though this car was a dinosaur, the upkeep had to cost a pretty penny. My Land Rover wasn’t all that new, but maintenance drained my wallet regularly. I promised myself, when this car was on its last leg, I’d never buy foreign again.
I pulled my Land Rover up to the curb and saw a woman who looked to be in her early twenties, sitting on the porch. She appeared to be about five-six and pushing three hundred pounds. She put a cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. When she turned to look at us, she exhaled smoke in a licking tongue shape.
Charles looked toward the woman for a moment before reaching for the door handle. “I’m so not looking forward to this.”
“We’re going to smell like ashtrays when we leave.” I opened my door and got out.
Charles said, “No, we’re not. I’m not going inside. Not because they are smokers, but because I’m not getting caught in a bad situation. Neither are you.”
I looked back as Charles finally got out of the car. He adjusted his slacks, and straightened the collar of his black polo shirt, then stepped up on the curb.
Somehow we spooked this woman, because she shot up off the bench she’d been sitting on and waddled into the house at record speed.
I was up for this. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but I’ll bet the information he learned was worth it. Okay, maybe not, but I was still going to get to the end of this.
Not waiting for Charles to catch up, I knocked on the door. It was opened by a late twenty-something man, with a black Mohawk haircut, trimmed short, but still a Mohawk. His skin was pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in at least a decade, and his lips were large, fat and cherry red. His belly overlapped the waistline of his shorts by at least four inches, and his girth filled the doorway. His expression…oh wait, there was no expression on his face.
“What do you want?” He looked me up and down, his eyes stopping not so subtly on my chest. Yeah, his mama taught him some manners.
“Robert Jackson? I’m Mimi Capurro.” I reached my hand out.
Even less subtle than his gazing at my boobs, was his blanching at my name. Or was it my hand?
“Same question,” Robert said.
“Same question?”
“What do you want?” But he was already shutting the door.
Charles stepped up behind me now. “Jax? How you doin’? Lordy, lordy, it’s been a long time.”
Jax opened the door a bit wider to get a better look at Charles. “Do I know you?”
“Well, you probably don’t remember, cuz we were way wasted, but you were cool enough to borrow me a c-note. And I just now figured out how to get in touch. Gotta love public court records.”
I didn’t think Jax could get any paler, but I was wrong.
“You from the court? I didn’t do anything wrong. My court date is on Tuesday. I been clean.” His belly fat trembled a little.
“Naw, naw man. I jus’ saw your name come up, and I never forget a debt or good deed.” Charles handed him a hundred dollar bill.
I looked to see that Charles had mussed up his appearance as to not look so much like a fop, and look more like a “good ol’ boy.”
Jax was reluctant to take the money, which surprised me. “I don’t remember loaning anyone that much money.”
Charles got a bit more serious. “Come on out on the porch, and I’ll tell you why I really owe it to you.” Charles glance behind Jax, like he was looking for someone, then whispered, “Don’t think your old lady will want to hear this story.”
Jax looked back into the house, then walked out and shut the door behind him. “Okay, stop fucking with me dude, what the hell is going on?”
Charles seemed to have it in hand, so I backed off. Charles put his arm around Jax, who tensed so much I thought he’d crap his pants.
“I know all about your court appearance. I know you’re trying to get your kids back. What I don’t know, is how Jeff King is involved in all of this.” Charles gave him a “good buddy” squeeze, and then removed his arm.
“Who are you really?”
“We work for the Gotcha Detective Agency, and Alyssa King hired me yesterday. We want to know why.” I stated it as bluntly as I could, without giving up details.
“Jeff and Alyssa King. Huh. Fucking bad news with a capital bad. That Jeff is the worst kind of snitch, and he’s the reason I’m in such deep shit.” Jax sat on the bench.
“You gonna tell us about what happened with Jeff?” I asked.
“What’s in it for me?”
Charles handed him the hundred dollar bill. This time he snatched it right up.
“What do you want to know?”
Charles couldn’t take it anymore; he ran his hands through his hair to smooth it out, and he straighten his clothes to present the dapper chap he truly was.
“He was supposed to testify at the trial?” I asked.
Jax chuckled. “Hell, no! That pussy would never have testified. He doesn’t have the balls. Instead he wears a wire while buying drugs from me. Goddamn snitch. I’d like to cut his pecker off.”
I said, “You won’t have to worry about that, he’s dead.”
A slow grin curled up Jax’s lips. “Huh? Who killed him?”
Charles and I exchanged glances. Charles said, “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Both he and Alyssa are dead. I’m wondering: does this help your case?”
Jax shook his head, and the rolls of fat on his neck jiggled. “There’s a transcript of the wire tap, man. He can be dead as a doornail and I’m still going to do time. Wanna see the transcript?”
“How do you know it was Jeff King who ratted you out?” I was curious. “Aren’t informants supposed to be confidential?”
“Sure they are, but there is a copy of the transcript in the court records. They can’t exactly say, ‘We have a tape of you selling drugs.’ and not have something to back it up.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“Let me tell you, that guy was a moron. It couldn’t have been more obvious who the buyer was. There are so many things in the transcript that I remember from the transaction. The guy rarely bought meth, usually just a weed guy, but thi
s night he wanted meth.” He turned toward the front door of the house, and yelled, “Hey Sweetcakes, get me that rat-snitch transcript.”
Jax continued, “I didn’t have any on hand, so I had to wait for my guy to get me some. And we had an issue with one of our kids. It’s all in the transcript. I was one hundred percent sure who the snitch was as soon as I read it.”
“So much for the confidential part of informant.” Charles started looking anxious. “Who was your meth supplier?”
Jax’s body shook as he roared with laughter. “Like I’m tellin’ you.”
I didn’t even bother trying to use feminine wiles. This guy was so enamored with my boobs, I just pushed them up a bit with my hands. It mesmerized him. “Come on, dude, give us something. Who would want Jeff and Alyssa dead?”
He stared and spoke slowly. “How did they die?”
Charles snapped him out of his lustful gaze. “Their house exploded with them in it.”
Again Jax laughed. “What makes you think someone killed them? They probably blew up their meth lab. Jeff wasn’t the smartest bulb, you know. They made their own meth, so that’s what stood out so much on the wire tap. Why was he coming to me for meth? Why, because the prick got busted for possession and narced me out to save his own skin.”
I wanted to say, “Yeah, yeah, we heard this already. And you were so innocent…” but, I said, “What will it cost to get you to tell us your guy’s name? We don’t want to get anyone in trouble, we just need to know who is at the next level.”
Jax stood. He yelled back into the house, “Forget the stupid transcript.” Then to me, he said, “You must really think I’m stupid. If I ratted anyone out, I’d be in the grave next to Jeff and Alyssa.”
He walked away, not into the house, but to his car. “I got someplace I gotta be.” He looked me in the eye and said, “Besides, with your last name, I’m sure you already know all the details you need to know. P.I., my ass. You think I’m that fucking stupid?”
“Heading to work?” Charles asked.
“Somethin’ like that.” He opened the door of the Mercedes and squeezed into the driver’s seat.
I knew if I was standing near the open door, I’d see the steering wheel cutting into his gut. Seemed like a dangerous way to be driving.
Jax peeled out of the driveway, leaving black rubber on the pavement.
Before I knew what was happening, Charles grabbed my keys from my hand and said, “Go, go, come on.” He dashed to my Land Rover and got in the driver’s seat.
For some reason, I didn’t hesitate. I ran around to the passenger door and got in. The car was rolling before I had the door shut. “What the hell?”
Charles tapped his watch. “His shift doesn’t start for another hour and a half. He’s meeting someone.”
“Do you think he’s stupid enough to think we won’t follow him?” I buckled my seatbelt as Charles maneuvered to catch up and get two cars behind Jax’s Mercedes.
“Should we follow so close?” I was sure he’d see us.
“Just for a minute. I need to be sure the GPS tracking is working.” Charles never took his eyes off the road as he handed me his phone. “Bring up the I-Spy app. I put a GPS tracker under his front passenger fender when we arrived.”
Charles and I left directly from my office, so there was no way he had time to grab a tracker. I admit I was slightly put off by the fact that I didn’t think of it.
“What…how…?”
“I always keep at least one in my pocket. You never know.”
I pulled up the app on his iPhone and looked at the map on the page.
“Zoom in.” Charles was impatient.
“I am! Geez.” I had already zoomed to the local roads. The blinking light had him moving north on Highway 101.
Charles looked for just a moment. “He’s headed to Prunetucky. What do you want to bet?”
“No bet. I’ll lose.”
I fully expected Jax to turn off somewhere in Prunedale, but he kept driving north. We traveled the 101 over the hills, and ended up in Gilroy.
Love garlic? Gilroy, California is the “Garlic Capital of the World” and smells like it during harvest time. Personally, I love the smell, and good thing because I’d been married to an Italian.
On the south side of Gilroy, there is a turn off that will take you to Hollister. It’s the long way around if you are coming from the south, but it’ll get you there. And it happens to be called Hollister Road. It’s right about here that the best part of Gilroy begins. There’s a garlic shop and a winery, and then as you travel north, there’s some great fruit stands. When I was growing up, these were mom and pop fruit and nut stands. Now they’re mostly corporate owned.
It was at Hollister Road that Jax decided to take a detour. He drove past the winery and turned into the gravel parking lot of a fruit stand.
This was no corporate fruit stand. It was what we fondly refer to as an “orange crate.” The stand was a twenty by thirty wooden building with sides that flipped up. When the sides were propped up they became the awnings for the store. The sides were raised today, and I could see crates of artichokes, apples, peaches, bags of nuts, and many other fresh delights. The building, made of wood slats, was painted white, but the frames around the open windows were a pale peach. There were no customers, and I didn’t see anyone manning the stand, either.
Charles looked at me. “Hungry?”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get out here.” I said as we watched Jax’s car disappear around the back of the stand.
“I thought he had to go to work?” Charles couldn’t help himself; he was already putting the car in park and unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Let’s just wait a minute. We don’t want to give ourselves up right away, if at all.” I had my seatbelt unbuckled now, too. I wasn’t planning to get out of the car, but I didn’t want Charles to leave me in his dust.
Charles sat back and relaxed in his seat. “This is a drug buy.”
“It’s something.” I strained to see anything, and then I saw it. “Irma Tucker!”
I heard Charles suck in his breath, and whisper, “Old bat.”
I laughed. “She sure didn’t like you.”
“She’s like a bad nightmare I keep having over and over,” Charles said. “Something tells me she’s in this thing, turkey waddle deep.”
This was his favorite reference from the show Ally McBeal. I used to cringe every time Fish would finger a waddle. I touched the skin under my chin, just to be sure it was still firm.
I had to agree with Charles. Irma was in deep, but what she was up to was still to be determined.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go over there, especially now.” Irma looked around, like she was waiting for someone.
She looked east and west, then opened up a wooden folding chair and sat under one of the awnings. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin down. Heck, she looked like she was napping.
“Can’t even stay awake long enough to service her customers.”
I shoved Charles in the shoulder. “There aren’t any customers, and I’d bet my last dollar she’s wide awake. Nothing gets past that eagle eye.”
Charles squinted and leaned forward. “I can’t tell if her eyes are open.”
As we were scrutinizing Irma from across the street, Jax came out from behind the building. He stood behind Irma and said something.
She didn’t even flinch, but she responded, because I saw her lips move. Then she jumped up from the chair so fast, it flipped over.
She nearly bumped bellies with Jax as she charged up to him. Her chubby finger was inches from his face as she was pointing and wiggling and generally chastising him with it.
Jax backed up a step. His face turned red. Then he handed her a brown paper bag and disappeared behind the building again.
“That doesn’t look like a bag of fruit to me.”
Charles added, “Nuts, either.”
Irma disappeared behin
d the building just as Jax approached his car. Jax got in and spit up dirt and gravel with his already bald tires as he spun out of the parking lot.
I watched as the dirt settled. “Are we going to follow him?”
That’s when I heard the familiar voice and a tap on my passenger side window.
I’d never seen Charles back away from any confrontation, but I swear I could see him physically shrink away from Irma.
I rolled down my window and Irma stuck her face inside the car. "I've been seeing a little too much of you two lately. Just what the hell do you think you're doing here?"
I leaned away from Irma's chubby face, repulsed by the smell of the unwashed hair. I wasn't sure if I should tell her the truth, but Charles made that decision for me.
"We were following Jax."
"What business you got with Jax? He don't seem like your type of friend." Irma had pushed her head further into the window as she questioned Charles.
"Look, Ms. Tucker, your tenant hired us yesterday. For some reason she wanted us to be at that house this morning. She wanted somebody to see that house explode. And now we want to know why, and how Jax is attached to this."
Irma's wrinkled lips drew into a thin straight line, well, as much of the straight line as wrinkled lips can make. Slowly, she backed out of the car window. I thought she was going to leave, but then, she reached into the pocket of her house dress with her chubby little fingers. And when they came out, her index finger was on the trigger of a snub-nosed .38 revolver.
"Well, seeing as your client has been blown into little bitty pieces, I think your contract is probably void. So if you know what's good for you, you’ll find yourself another case.” Looking pointedly at Charles, she said, "I never want to see your little fairy ass again."
I didn't even have time to turn around and see the look on Charles’s face. Apparently, he had had enough of Irma Tucker. Before I knew it, he had his arm extended and was pointing his .44 Magnum at Irma's chest.
"I'm really not sure who the hell you think you are, you fat old fuck, but I'm not listening to your backwards ass call Mimi a fairy ever again. Before you put a gun in someone's face, you better make damn sure you know who you're dealing with. And I'm pretty god damn sure you don't know shit about me."
Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set Page 57