West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery

by Frances Hight

  “How’s she doing?” I asked.

  Shinto shrugged and didn’t speak. The shine in her eyes told me why.

  I dropped the load on the only other chair and approached momma’s far side. She lay with her eyes closed. The shushing sound of her breathing apparatus and beep of the EKG reassured me she still lived.

  “What’s all that stuff?” Shinto said. “Forensics homework?”

  “I wish. I’ll tell you later.”

  So many machines. So many tubes. Sweet Jesus help her. I picked up momma’s cool hand and stroked her palm. “We’re here, Momma. Shinto and me.” She looked small and peaceful. I touched her forehead and brushed a stray hair off her brow, the antiseptic smell overpowering. “Better ways to keep us off the streets, Momma.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed stroking her hand and stayed like that until Shinto rose.

  “I’m going to check on Allen,” she said, “then I’ll get out, see if I can’t get a line on the investigation into who shot him.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Text me if anything changes,” Shinto said.

  I nodded.

  “We’ll get through this,” she said.

  “I know we will. I’ll find you later.”

  Shinto left and I settled in for a long vigil. “I’m going to teach a college course, Momma. Can you believe that? Kailey Carmichael, molder of young minds. I kind of like it. What do you think?”

  I pulled the chair with all the binders close and angled momma’s tray table around to use for a desk. I opened the first three-ringed binder and sorted through all the stray pages and thumb drives. Could the Dempsey’s be any more organized? I noticed Cindy’s law firm name emblazoned on each page. Must be nice to have secretaries at your beck and call.

  “Pretty dreary outside, Momma. Hey, maybe it’ll rain. Think that’s too much to ask?” I scooted forward and realized the tray table needed lowering. “You know the RockHounds won again? We are on a streak. Go team.” I tried adjusting it, pushing and yanking. Stupid thing. I had both hands on either side of it, leaning my full weight on it, willing the contraption to lower when a nurse popped in to hang another drip.

  “Here. Let me,” she said and saved a piece of hospital property from sailing through the window.

  “How’s my mom doing?” I asked.

  “Doctor should be in soon. He’ll be able to tell you how she’s doing.”

  “Thanks.”

  I flipped open the binder and settled in to study while the nurse took vials of blood and made entries on momma’s chart. After the nurse left and I finished several pages of dry reading, I said, “Hey, momma, did I tell you I ran into Gail the other day? She has gained a boatload of weight and looks like hell. I know, I shouldn’t say things like that.” I waited, watching my mom carefully. Not so long ago she’d be shaking her head and rolling her eyes at what a judgmental daughter she’d raised. Nothing. Beeps and wheezes. I reached for another binder. This one featured page after page of crime scene photos. Stuff the papers never saw. Fun.

  Several hours and binders later, I stood and stretched. “I’m going to get some coffee, Momma. I’ll be right back.”

  I took the stairs down to the first floor where I snagged coffee and a muffin wrapped in plastic wrap. I paid and hurried back to momma’s room.

  I stopped by the nurse’s station on the way and asked the nurse behind the computer when my mother’s doctor would be by.

  “And your mother is?” The nurse waited, hands hovered over the keyboard.

  “Oh, sorry. Mrs. Carmichael.”

  “You just missed him,” she said. “He’ll be back tomorrow. Get here early if you want to speak with him.”

  How long was I gone on my coffee run? Five minutes? “Great.” My luck continues.

  I churned through everything and finished my first look-see into the course outline before I checked my watch. Damn. Nine p.m. already? I stood. “Well, Momma. I’ve got to go. I’ll be back tomorrow. You behave okay? Get better. I need you.” I leaned over and kissed her. My butt hurt from all the hours I’d sat in the room. I took the elevator to the second floor and stopped in Allen’s room to say goodbye. A football game on his TV squawked from the remote speaker when I peeked in. “Hi there. How are you doing?” I said.

  “Better every day.” Allen said. “How’s your mother?”

  “No change.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “I wish I knew more. I didn’t get to see her doctor today. I stepped out for a minute and he came and went.”

  Allen adjusted the head of his bed. “They’re good at that.”

  “What’s yours telling you?”

  “Looks like I’ll be released tomorrow.”

  “Allen, that’s great. Then after that?”

  “Physical therapy. I’ll be better than new in no time. What the heck are you lugging there?”

  “Don’t you recognize it? It’s the notes on—”

  “My Midland Police Procedure class.”

  “Yeah. That. Captain dropped them by earlier.” I scrunched my face. “Substance abuse, photos of dead bodies, firearms, domestic issues, the law, and rules of behavior. That’s a lot to cover in a semester, Allen. You really think these kids are ready for how graphic you designed this program? Shouldn’t we dumb it down a bit?”

  Allen sniffed. “Truth is truth, Kailey. Powers that be asked me to design a course to give the kids a real taste for our job. Not my problem if they don’t like the taste.” He lowered the head of his bed. “But apparently, Captain put you in charge. Course is yours now. Do whatever you want with it.”

  “I didn’t ask for this assignment.”

  “I didn’t ask for them to take it from me. Trade places.” He frowned.

  Silence.

  “Captain asked if I’d like Shinto to co-lead with me,” I said. Anything to break the silence.

  “Shinto?” Allen snorted. “Bet she had a lot to say about it.”

  “I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I sorta hoped Captain Samosa might do it for me.”

  “Not a chance. He’s more afraid of Shinto than any of us.”

  "You may be right.”

  “Love to see it, though.” He laughed bitterly. “Shinto will have the class drop and give her fifty for every wrong answer.”

  “I better get going.” I lifted the books. “Homework.”

  “Have fun,” he said.

  “See ya.”

  Three hours later, Shinto answered on the fourth ring. “Who is this? It better be important to wake me up in the middle of the night.” I heard her yawn.

  “C’mon, Shinto. You told me you never sleep.”

  “Kailey? What’s wrong? Is everything all right? How’s Mom?”

  “Sorry I woke you.” No way I could tell her what I needed over the phone. “I need to see you, Shinto. When would be a good time?”

  “I worked a double today. We are short-handed with you and Allen out.”

  “You know what? It can wait. Go back to sleep.”

  “Bullshit. You wouldn’t have called me if it wasn’t important. Get your ass over here with lots of hot black coffee and an assortment of doughnuts. I won’t be able to go back to sleep anyway.”

  “You sure?”

  “Sure as God makes lesbians.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  I arrived in twenty minutes.

  She opened the door half-dressed, sleepy-eyed, and sipping tomato juice. At least that’s what it looked like.

  “I come bearing gifts,” I said. “Don’t shoot me.” I walked in, handed her the coffee, and deposited the doughnuts on her kitchen dinette.

  “The coffee smells yummy. What kind of doughnuts did you get?” Shinto pulled out a couple of small dishes from her cupboard, and I flipped open the box.

  “Jelly, lemon-filled, cake, and glazed. Some with sprinkles.”

  “Come to mama,” Shinto said as she piled her plate with a red, a yellow and a chocolate. She plop
ped down on a chair, took a huge bite, and said through the chewing, “Now quit stalling. How’s mom and why would I shoot you?”

  “Momma is fine, no change. I’m here because I need a favor.”

  “Of course you do.” She picked up her second doughnut. “What is it? Spit it out.”

  “Has the captain talked to you about helping me take over Allen’s course at Midland?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Figures, the coward. He benched me, Shinto. Allen can’t teach it.

  He’s recovering. Captain got a brain fart and tapped me for the job. He thinks somehow, with my mom in a coma teaching will be easier on me than working the streets with you guys. Which is so much bullshit.” I got up and paced. “Like I’m a teacher? I get nervous thinking about it.”

  “How hard could it be Kailey, you can do this with your eyes closed. Sounds like it might even be fun.”

  “I am so glad to hear you say that.”

  Ten minutes later, after Shinto stopped swearing at me and the “whole messed up goddamn world and the goddamn men who run it,” I bit into a doughnut and lemon filling squirted out and fell all over my boob. “See, Shinto? This is my life. A big gooey mess.”

  Shinto started laughing.

  I wiped goo from my blouse with my finger and stuck it in my mouth. “Can’t waste good goo.” I laughed, too, then. Rung out? Relieved? Who knew? I sat with my best friend in the entire world, who’d just said yes to sharing a crap job neither of us wanted any part of.

  Maybe things weren’t going totally to shit after all.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Junior

  I headed for the bookstore early. Patricia told me used books are the first to go, especially the cleaner, unmarked ones. The sign on the door said it opened at 9:00. I walked up at 8:30 and took my place behind a dozen kids who got here even earlier. No problem. I got to people watch, see more of what my fellow students were really like. Five years younger, on average, full of hopes and dreams, and not one prison tat among them.

  Two girls in line behind me traded snarky comments and observations on college life. The debate centered on the sexual orientation of the professor in the drama department. I turned around and recognized them from one of my classes last semester.

  “Hey,” I said. Short and to the point. If not all that original.

  “Hey yourself, big guy,” the pretty Latina said. “Junior, right?”

  “Yes. How did you—?”

  “All the girls know your name, Junior.” The blonde beside her giggled.

  “Shut up, Brittany, you’re embarrassing him.”

  “I think it’s cute,” Brittany said. “He’s turning red.”

  “Now I know you guys are messing with me,” I said.

  “Maybe a little,” the Latina said. “I’m Grace and the one beside me with the blond hair and blonde brain is Brittany.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said. “Outside of class.” I shook hands with each of them and felt like a total moron.

  “What fun classes are you taking this year, Junior?” Brittany asked.

  “Not drama; that’s for sure.” Grace laughed.

  “Ah, I got a lot of catching up to do coverin’ my basics. Don’t know about any fun classes. One course I am looking forward to is police procedure.”

  “Yecch. I heard it’s going to be taught by real police and they are going to show dead bodies and stuff.” Brittany shivered.

  Grace frowned. “No way, dude. I saw enough of that back home before Daddy brought us here.”

  “Where was that?” I said.

  “Juarez. Cartel crap. No thank you very much.” She scrunched up her face. “My daddy gets enough of that living here.”

  “Her dad’s a lawyer,” Brittany offered. “Big time. Like we’re going to be. Sort of.”

  “How do you sort of be a lawyer?”

  “Real estate law,” both girls announced and then promptly laughed.

  “Yeah. No guns,” said Brittany.

  “No dead bodies,” said Grace.

  “Yeah.” I said. “I hear they drive down the cost of real estate.”

  Locks clicked in the front doors and the crowd surged forward, saving me from further inanities. A gray-haired woman with tight lips pulled the doors wide and got shoved into a stack of books by the crowd. I helped her to her feet on my way by but left her once she regained her balance.

  The students and I flooded into the tiny bookstore wading through a sea of backpacks and Midland Community T-shirts. Like most other students, I pulled out my list and kept consulting it. In the end I located every book on my list except one. Introduction to Police Procedure would have to wait until another day.

  I waited in a line of kids at the register. When I slapped my books on the counter to pay for them, I recognized the poor woman from the door crush.

  “You doing all right?” I asked.

  She patted her hair self-consciously. “Happens every semester,” she said. “You’d think I would learn. Did you find everything you need?”

  Not waiting for my answer, she took the top book off my stack and scanned it. She took the next one and scanned it as her glasses slid back down her rather large hooked nose.

  “Introduction to Police Procedure,” I said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Police Procedure? I didn’t see a place for it on the shelves.”

  “That’s because there isn’t one. It’s my understanding the professors hand out the materials they use in class.”

  “Ah, well, thanks, I guess.”

  She kept ringing up my books, and when she slid the last one onto her finished stack she said, “How will you be paying for these? Check, credit, or debit? Checks require two forms of ID.”

  I pulled my license and a copy of my parole assignment and laid them on the table.

  She picked up the green piece of paper. “What’s this? Oh. OH—”

  “That’s all I have.”

  “No, no. This will do fine. Just fine. Don’t you worry.” She ran my check, bagged my books, and ripped off a receipt in record time. “There you go, sir,” she said. “Come back s—I mean, hope to see you, that is—”

  I took my books and my receipt. I made sure to touch her fingers with mine to see her jump. "Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be back to see you real soon.”

  Her eyes got big, and I blew her a kiss as I left.

  I made my way to the police procedure class on Tuesday and took a seat in the middle of six rows of desk chairs. My knees bumped up against the desk part and I needed to stretch my legs to fit into the stupid thing. I pitied the poor kid who grabbed the seat behind me. He’d need to be a tall one to see over me. Not to worry. A huge blonde boy, had be an offensive lineman, swaggered up the aisle and tucked in behind me.

  I recognized the woman when she stepped up to the podium as one of the two cops who grilled me at my PO’s office. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. You are in introduction to police procedure. When I call your name please raise your hand and speak up. We will make a seating chart next week. My name is Officer Kailey Carmichael, and this scary woman at my side,” she nodded and grinned at a fierce-looking dyke in a chair behind her, “is Officer Shinto Elliot. We are with the Midland Police Department. The two of us will be sharing teaching duties. Shinto, would you like to say a few words?”

  Shinto. That was it, the Indian-looking one.

  She slapped Officer Carmichael on the back as she approached the front. “This class will be showing graphic photos of crime scenes and bodies. Later in the semester we will bring in blood and luminol. You need to feel and smell the blood to understand how we use microscopic evidence to catch people who choose to kill or ignore the law. We will examine bullet trajectories and see how to use lasers. If you believe you can’t handle blood and seeing the horrible things people do to other people, then I suggest you leave and find another class.”

  Shinto smiled as several girls and my offensive lineman gathered their belongings
and slouched out the back door.

  Shinto took roll, and I raised my hand high like a good student. She took a moment to look me over before moving on to the next name on her list.

  I felt her cop’s eyes checking me out. What the hell was that all about?

  I settled in for whatever the class and these two cops could teach me that I didn’t already know.

  Might not suck too bad. A couple of hot cops to keep my juices flowing? I might even learn something. I raised my hand. Time for some fun. “Will we be going to any crime scenes?” I heard groans and tittering in back of me.

  Officer Carmichael spoke up. “No, Mr., um,” she consulted her notes. “Alvarez. We will show slides, and for the final we will stage a crime scene and you will write a paper and solve the crime.” She glanced at her partner, Shinto Elliot, and then went on. “One third of your grade will depend on how well you do. We will give you the tools you’ll need and teach you how to use them. I suggest everyone take copious notes, and don’t be afraid to ask questions.”

  I shot my hand up again. “Will this be based on an actual crime or one you two make up? Because we could use the Internet to solve one that’s already been solved.”

  “Interesting point. We’ll see,” she sounded irritated. “Anyone else have any questions?”

  I raised my hand again.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mr. Alvarez?”

  Good. She’d already learned my name. “What time does this class end?”

  “They covered that when you enrolled, Mr. Alvarez. Now perhaps you will let some of the other students ask a question.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I smiled and she frowned. My work here is finished. I irritated the police without getting arrested. I win.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Kailey and Shinto

  I gathered up my papers from the lectern as the students filed out to their next class.

  Shinto came up and said, “That didn’t go so bad hey teach? Grab some lunch at the cafeteria? I hear they have great catfish today.”