“What about him?” the paramedic looked at me quizzically.
Quigley sobbed. “Help me. She hurt me. Police brutality.”
I smiled my sweetest smile. “Poor guy tripped as he came off the steps and fell into the rose bushes. Nothing a little iodine and Band-Aids can’t fix. Folks in the house are why I called you.”
“I like your style, Kailey,” the lieutenant said.
“Back at you, Cameron.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake—” Quigley didn’t get a chance to finish.
I pushed and pulled him to the squad car. I opened the door.
He turned and whispered, “You will pay for this.” He leaned his head toward the house and sneered. “So will they.”
Somehow, he cracked his head on the doorframe when I shoved him into the backseat. Then, I might have stomped on his ankle before he could pull it inside. I slammed the car door and propped my hands on the roof, seething.
Chuck walked up. “We all good here? Kailey?”
“Good to go, officer,” I said. “Who we got in holding? Has Big Jamaal been pinched for drunk and disorderly yet? About time for it.”
“We’ll call in. Why?”
“Got a cellmate for him.”
Hours later, at the end of our shift I made tracks for my car. The parking lot lit up like daylight. Typical police department policy.
Chuck’s voice stopped me with my key in the lock. “Hey, Kailey, wait up.”
I turned around to see Chuck walking toward me.
“Got a sec?”
“Two or three. What’s up?”
“You know that domestic of ours?”
Where was he going with this? “Not that senile yet, Chuck.”
“You seemed, I don’t know, to take it kind of personal.”
“Really?” I flashed back to that sweet little girl’s face and saw Emma’s right beside it. “Your mind’s goofing on you.”
“Uh huh. What about the husband?”
“The asshole? What about him?”
“You seemed to have it in for him.”
“Maybe.” I played at nonchalant. “A little. He deserved it.”
“Ten-four. He certainly did.” He hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“This thing you’ve got against guys, is it going to keep getting in the way?”
“Whoa, hey. What?”
“Jesus, Kailey. I mean, it’s no secret. Everybody in the department knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Come on. You know.” Chuck shuffled his feet. “Forget it.” He turned to walk away.
“Hell, no. I’m not forgetting anything. What is it I’m supposed to know Chuck, that everybody knows?”
“You got a big chip on for guys, that’s all. I mean, I get it. We all get it. You and Shinto are together, and—”
I started laughing then. I laughed so hard I think I scared him. “Chuck,” I choked out between gasps, “Shinto and I are friends. Good friends. Very good.” I wiped tears from my eyes. “But we’re not, I mean I’m not, oh my god. I hate to wreck your lesbian fantasies, but—” I walked over and planted a kiss on Chuck’s forehead. “You’re a pretty good cop, Chuck. You are. When you don’t jump to conclusions.”
I got in my car, cranked the engine, and rolled down the window. “Have a good weekend. Say hello to the family.”
I drove off, thinking about what Chuck said. That’s what they all think? That Shinto and I are together? That I’m gay? Good. Let them think what they want. Next time I see Shinto at headquarters I’ll walk right up, kiss her on the lips, and explain it to her later.
In the meantime, my love life is my business. Such as it is. Closest I got to love I left behind me in the parking decks of the Dallas airport on my last night. With Derek.
***
I heard footsteps behind me as I hefted my considerable suitcase collection into the back hatch of my Toyota. The flutter in my stomach jumped to my throat. I recognized the gait and the clomp of his Tony Lamas. I froze as the steps got closer and I felt his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up straight. His arms encircled me, and warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Going somewhere, gorgeous?” he whispered in my ear.
His hands slid down and around me, cupping my breasts through my department-issue T-shirt.
“Have I told you how sexy you are in a gray T-shirt?”
I twisted around to face my sergeant lover from Nacogdoches. His laughing blue eyes, much bluer than mine. His soft lips with that quirky little smile that always seemed to be teasing me, when they weren’t kissing me.
“Derek, we said good-bye last night. Don’t make it any harder on us.”
“Too late,” he said as he grabbed my hand and pulled it to his crotch.
I felt the heat pressing hard through his Lee jeans, and my knees almost buckled then and there. “We can’t,” I said.
“We can,” he said as he put his mouth on mine and pried with his tongue. We fumbled our way to the backseat door, and I reached behind me to yank it open. We tumbled inside, gripped by an insistent fever that even the cramped backseat of the Toyota couldn’t cool.
Desperate hands pulled at buckles, snaps, buttons, and zippers as we squirmed for position. Him on the bottom. Me with my legs apart, trying to slide over.
“Climb on, woman,” he said.
I felt his hands on my hips, pulling me down as he thrust up inside me.
Oh. My. God.
My orgasm filled every crevice inside me with sizzling bright light and kept it there for what seemed like an eternity. Even afterwards, collapsed on top of him in a sweaty heap, I didn’t want it to end. Ever. Yet, it would. It had to. I was due back in Midland and Nacogdoches called to him.
Our wondrous, magical time together in Dallas, courtesy of our departments and the FBI, had to end.
Chapter Fifteen
Junior
I stopped outside Mr. Miller’s office, shifted my textbooks and binders to my other hand, and knocked.
“Enter.” The voice came so soft I barely heard it through the door. I stepped in and saw my parole officer bent over a pile of papers with a marker in his hand, muttering and circling things on the pages.
He looked up and pointed. “Have a seat, Junior. I’ll be with you in a second.” Finally, he scooped stacks of paper into a ragged pile and plopped the mess into a box overloaded with a dozen similar stacks. He leaned back and grunted. “I am sure some idiot bureaucrat convinced his equally idiotic superintendent they needed all those forms filled out in triplicate or the world would crumble. Yet the only world crumbling is mine. Junior?” He leaned forward and clasped his hands in earnest entreaty. “Please tell me something, anything, to brighten my shitty day.”
I couldn’t believe I actually felt sorry for the guy.
“Don’t know if this counts Mr. Miller. As of five days ago, I am officially a college student. Me. Who knew, right?”
He slapped his desk. “That’s what I’m talking about. What are you taking? You like your classes?”
“I really do. With your help and a neighbor friend who used to teach at Midland, I think I made some good choices. The work’s interesting. Homework’s not too hard.”
“You’re on your way, Junior. I can feel it. Tell me something you learned you didn’t know before.”
“Uh . . . I don’t know . . .” I turned over the top book in my stack. “I’m taking geology, and it’s cool. Did you know there’s this San Andres Formation goes right under Midland? Right under us? It’s true.” I tapped my foot on the brown linoleum tile. “Dig about five thousand feet down, you’ll hit rocks over two hundred thirty million years old from the Permian Period. That’s why Midland is called the Permian Basin and why there’s a crap load of oil.” I put the book back in my lap and felt myself grinning like an idiot. What the hell is happening to me?
He leaned forward and held his hand palm out. “Gimme five, man. Look at you. A bud
ding geologist.”
“It’s one class.”
“I’m proud of you, Junior, and I know it’s one. That’s how it starts. Take one class at a time. Show up. Do the work. You learn something.”
“That’s what she said.”
“She?”
“That neighbor, old lady lives across the way from me. Turns out she was the one in the wreck. You know, on my first day?”
“Then we’re both right. You’re making an effort, son. You are. Thank you for making my day.”
I handed him the paperwork my student aid advisor gave me for him to fill out, and while Mr. Miller flipped through and scribbled his signature, I felt good. In a weird way I never felt before. Mr. Miller gave me permission to feel proud of myself. For something I accomplished. The feeling didn’t suck.
***
Back out on the sidewalk, I hauled my stack of books, homework, and myself toward my hovel. Dry heat in summer is brutal in this town. The air rippled, trying to fan itself. I rounded the corner of the apartment building and ran smack into my neighbor. The tomato lover.
“Howdy, neighbor. Having a good day, Junior?” She looked at me like she really cared if my day was good or not.
“I am having a fan-fuck-I mean, a fantastic day. You?”
“I’m good . . . I’ve been fixing lunch, and . . .” She wrapped her arms around her body. It made her green blouse tight around her magnificent boobs. “Hey, are you hungry?”
The old me would have had a field day with that question. The new me simply nodded and said, “I’m always hungry.”
“Then that settles it. I made a salad and tuna for sandwiches. That is, if you like tuna.”
“Just one thing,” I said.
“What?”
“I hope your salad has plenty of tomatoes.”
She hesitated for a second, and I thought I might have hurt her feelings. Then she let out a belly laugh that got us both going.
“As it happens, I did, Junior. Nice, firm, round tomatoes.”
My old self about lost his shit, pushing to get a rise out of me. I ignored him. “Then lead on.”
I followed her to her apartment, staring at her butt. I’m still human and she couldn’t see me. I inhaled two sandwiches and half her salad and thought, I could get to like this normal life stuff. Who knew people could be so nice?
“Patricia, I’d love to sit and chat with you; that was the best lunch I have ever eaten, I swear, but I have two tests coming up.”
“What am I thinking? You need to study. You can’t sit jabbering with an old woman when you have work to do.”
“Patricia.” I grabbed her hands in mine. “Stop with that. You’re not old. Frankly you’re friggin’ hot. If the time and place were different, who knows?” I let the words die an uncomfortable death.
She flushed and pulled her hands free. She stood all aflutter. “A man needs his strength, and you might get hungry later, so . . . I mean . . . I’ll wrap this up, and you can take it home and eat it whenever you get hungry.” She cleared the table and slammed through a couple cabinets, pulling out plastic containers. “Studying is hard work, Junior. I’m proud of you for pushing through.”
Second person today who said they were proud of me. Definitely a record.
She finished snapping lids on plastic containers and filling baggies with sandwich squares. She handed me the food and patted my arm. “See you later, Junior.” We walked to her door. I tried to thank her again. She silenced me with a finger on my lips. “You don’t have to thank me. That’s what neighbors are for. Besides, you remind me a lot of my son.” Her eyes turned sad and I saw tears glisten for a second, before she hastily shut her door.
***
I sat at the kitchen table and studied as much as my eyes and spongey brain would let me. Started on geology, slipped into algebra, and cracked open the reading for English lit. Big mistake.
I awoke with drool all over my paperwork. My ass needed a break from sitting, and my brain could absorb only so much schoolwork. I remembered Miguel invited me, semi insisted, I come to his party. Said if I didn’t show, questions would be asked, and answers provided by a beat down. Party sounded better.
It was dark in the house when I walked up. The music loud. My eyes adjusted. I grabbed a long-necked cerveza from the refrigerator and wandered around. Best to get the lay of the place before I decided where to hang. A lot of the kids I didn’t know. They looked young. Babies.
I spotted a bowl of X, popped a tab, and gulped it down with a swig of Corona. It’d take a while for the Ecstasy to hit. May as well get comfortable. I wandered into the living room and spotted Miguel. He grinned and motioned me over to his harem. He sat in the middle of a couch with chicas pressing in on both sides.
“Junior. Hey, man where you been hiding?” Miguel interrupted my fantasy, a smirk curled around his lips as smoke from a lit joint filtered through his moustache. He passed it to me. “Que pasa, hombre?”
“Boring shit,” I said. “You?” I sucked in a quick toke. Passed it on to a girl with hot purple hair and a nose ring.
“Plans, man. Big plans. We’re having a meet tomorrow night for a score next week. You’ll fit right in. Fact, we could use you for it.”
The joint came back around and I hit it again, inhaled deep, and squeaked out, “I could use some spending money. What time and where?” Exhale.
“Meet here around ten.”
I passed him the joint.
He took a hit and waved me off. I was dismissed.
I ambled over to a black-painted wall and kicked back, leaning into the corner. Five feet to my right, a huge velvet neon painting of two reclining nude women added class to the place. I drained my beer and watched the party swirl around me.
About fifty teens and a few tweens spasmed in place to the music. Every one of them blasted, hammered, high, and otherwise ripped out of their minds. The thumping drumbeat pounded deep in my gut while the X warmed my body.
I pushed off the wall and headed for a dazed druggie nodding off all by herself. My pill had me going, and I went with it. Maybe I’ll hurt her a little, not enough to do too much damage. She opened bloodshot hazel eyes and smiled as I approached. She was about my age, maybe a little older. I got closer and saw crude teardrop tattoos. She’d been in jail a few times. She struggled to straighten up. I yanked her upright and leaned in close.
“Hey, baby,” I said, “want to party?”
She grinned and pawed lazily for my arm.
I planted a hard kiss on her lips, made sure to bite down a little.
She flinched and slurred, “That hurt.” Blood trickled down her chin. She grinned and attempted to punch me. I caught her feeble jab midair and twisted her arm behind her. I pulled her to me and grabbed her breast and squeezed hard. She winced. I turned her face to me and asked, “Want more?”
“Show me what you got, bad boy.”
I smashed my mouth onto hers and bit her again as she rubbed my crotch. I picked her up and forced her to the wall. Pulled up her skirt. She didn’t have panties on. Nice. She pushed me away far enough to unbutton my jeans.
“Now this is what I’m talking about.” She pulled back to get a better view. “You’re bigger than most; I like that.”
I bitch-slapped her and shoved into her. She felt willing and wet. She moaned loud and I covered her mouth. She threw her head from side to side. I pulled out. She knelt in front of me to give me head. I yanked her up, turned her around, and mounted her from the back, slamming her head into the wall. I pinched her breasts and pulled on them.
She squealed, “Stop, stop. You’re hurting me.” She wiggled to get away.
I got her skinny neck into the crook of my arm, pulled her toward me and slammed my cock deep inside her. She groaned and I came hard.
Yesss.
I let her go, and she held out a hand. “How much you got big man?”
“Piss off, skank.” I slapped her hand away and shoved my junk back into my pants, buttoned up, and hea
ded for the door, followed by my demons.
“Asshole,” she countered.
The old Junior laughed, content. The new one, not so much. I got home and kicked the door closed. What the hell? That sex back there ranked about as low as a toss-off in a jail cell. Who was I kidding? Am I really changing or making a big show of it for an audience? Maybe my parole officer? My school? My neighbor Patricia? Me?
Chapter Sixteen
Kailey and Shinto
“Captain.” I stood at attention. No idea why he called Shinto and me into his office and asked us to close the door.
“Officers, our town has a problem, and I think you two can help solve it.” He looked down at a file on his desk. I sneaked a peek at Shinto. She raised her eyebrows.
“It’s delicate. Our complaining citizens are connected, and our mayor is on the warpath. No one is willing to testify, yet they want this problem to go away. Time to go undercover.” He leaned back in his chair. Captain Samosa is a by-the-book bear of a man with receding gray fringe around a balding pate, a slipped halo around his dark Mexican head. I smiled.
“We have a situation at Magic Hands Massage. It seems the masseuses give great massages. I’ve been told after a wealthy woman customer comes back several times, there is one man and one woman that ask certain questions. About whether the woman is happy in her marriage or relationship. Innocuous questions, and they still give the woman a great normal massage. After a few more weeks of getting to know those clients, each time the massage gets a little more intimate. A slip of the sheet. Then if the woman doesn’t react too much, they may massage the breast which leads to more intimate touching. Then they ask for money for these extra pleasures. If the woman is amenable they offer to go all the way for a sizable donation or tip.”
“Gross.” Shinto scowled. “I’d break a hand if anyone touched me without my invitation.”
He ignored her. “We need to catch these scumbags in the act of offering their services. You can carry a small recorder in your purse and camera on your blouse that you can hang up in the room.”
West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery Page 6