“Are you messing with us, Mr. Alvarez?” Shinto said. “Because I would not recommend that at this juncture.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I know how you folks work. I’ll know even more after this semester, right, professor?”
Shinto stepped forward, and I stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I am not a professor, Junior, as you well know.”
“Are you going to tell me what happened to my neighbor, or do I need to read it in the Midland Star News?”
“Your neighbor, a one Patricia Keystone, was murdered sometime yesterday evening. You may have been the last person to see her alive.”
Shinto crossed her arms over her chest. “What time did you go into her apartment, Junior?”
“Thank you for that, Officer Carmichael. Let’s see.” He looked up at the sky. “Seven. I got up late and had to book it to geology before the bell. Old Mr. Walker’s a stickler for being on time. Five tardies in a semester and the old fucker drops you a grade.”
I get a kick out of this wiseass guy. Something about him. “We need a formal statement from you.”
“I don’t know anything. I saw her for only a few minutes.”
“We need your formal statement,” Shinto repeated. “Tomorrow morning at the station. If we can impose on you.”
He shrugged. “Sure.” His posture and face turned from carefree to jailhouse blank. “I’ll see you guys later. Too bad. Patricia’s good people,” he murmured.
I watched him march up the stairs with exaggerated nonchalance, unlock, and enter a second-story apartment. Junior’s apartment faced the dead woman’s, interesting.
“Obviously, the squad didn’t get everyone’s statements. They missed him.”
“He wasn’t here,” I said. “Supposedly.”
“Did you see his face?” Shinto asked.
“Long scratch on his left cheek?”
“Blood on his shirt?” Shinto pulled on the glove and snapped the wrist of her left hand. “We need to get that guy into the station.”
“I hate to think he did this. He seems so eager to learn in class, asks smart questions. We’ll see.” I handed her the coffee and bent to pull new booties on.
“They had a drive-by not too far from here,” Shinto said. “Some college kid got killed.”
“I know. I broke the news to his parents.”
“Now this? And guess who lives within walking distance of both crimes?”
“That’s not fair, Shinto.”
“Your star pupil, Mr. Junior Alvarez.”
“Come on.”
“Told you I had a vibe about him.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Junior
My backpack got heavier with each step. I acted all cool and casual but my heart slammed from one side of my ribs to the other. I flopped down on the couch, grabbed a fistful of hair, and yanked, hard. “Shit, shit, shit.” I sat holding my head until my cell phone rang. “Yes?” I barked.
“Um, Junior?”
“That’s my name. Who is this?”
“Elizabeth Parks.”
I waited a beat. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes, Junior. I should think you’d remember.”
I imagined I could see her blush through the phone. “Elizabeth I’m messin’ with you.”
She rushed on. “Yolanda gave me your phone number.”
“I figured.”
“It’s been a weird couple days, huh? I thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
“I’ll let you know in a few more,” I said.
“I need to ask a favor.”
“Name it.” What the heck could that woman need from me? “What’s up?”
She stuttered, “Yolanda and Miguel are having a party and invited me. I haven’t been to one of their parties. I’ve only been to their house for lunch. I know it’s short notice, since the party is tonight, but I thought if you wouldn’t mind, you might be my date.” She stopped, and I heard her take a breath. “I could pick you up.”
Inwardly I groaned. Talk about bad timing. Too much homework . . .Patricia dead in the apartment across the way . . . my fingerprints and DNA probably all over her place. Proximity and my record are going to wet the pants of the two policewomen downstairs. Her timing couldn’t be shittier if I lived in an outhouse. “Sure, what time?”
Chapter Forty-Four
Kailey and Shinto
The poor woman’s apartment combined every possible shade of red to overwhelming effect. Much of it because this lady had a strange fascination for everything tomato. Pictures, paintings, plates, pillows, knickknacks crowded onto every available square inch of display space, all in praise of the humble fruit. Add a brutal, sadistic murder frenzy by a psychopath armed with a knife, and blood spatter flung a full 360 degrees in multiple locations and red rapidly became my least favorite color.
Finding blood streaks and droplets took on a whole new level of difficulty. Red drops on red paintings, red porcelain figurines, a red wall in the bedroom and red rugs and tapestries throughout took exponentially longer than normal to locate. We took our time because it was necessary, and because this was my first dive into my new forensics niche. I wanted to get this right.
The techs and I dusted every inch of Patricia Keystone’s apartment. We checked the backsides of cabinet pulls, faucet levers, the inside faces of cabinet doors, the entire contents of the fridge and the silverware drawer. Excessive? I don’t know, maybe. But a monster had been at work here and I wanted him bad.
Next challenge was identifying areas of initial confrontation, spots where intense struggle took place, and the final kill zone. It helped us map the progress of the attack through the apartment to its final conclusion in the bloody bedroom.
We worked in silence for the most part, subdued by the ferocity and humbled. We were witnesses to an innocent woman’s last desperate minutes on earth. At times I had to take a break and go outside to get a grip.
It took us the better part of a day to gain a toehold in that place. By evening, we’d set up our laser and string to diagram the attack and begin puzzling out the movements of both players in the deadly struggle.
By late evening we were all dragging and needed a break. As the lead forensics person on the scene, I knew I’d be put through a bloody marathon on the stand. I couldn’t afford mistakes because I’d been too tired to do my job. I needed to be extra careful to catalog and photograph everything two and three times over before I could hope to enlist Heather’s help back in her lab.
I sent all the techs home for the night while Shinto and I stayed behind to finish a couple things. I wanted to ease the load on us for tomorrow and so I’d saved the ceiling blood spatter for last. Every ceiling. In every room.
“Shinto, you’re taller. Want to help me with the spatter on the ceiling? I’ll buy you dinner, after. You name the place.”
I expected a little bit of pushback. At least one snarky comment, maybe two. Both of us were zombies by this time. Plus, Shinto had no filter on that sharp tongue of hers she wielded like a weapon.
“You got it, boss,” was all she said.
Chapter Forty-Five
Junior
If I stay cooped up in here much longer I’m gonna punch holes in the walls and a handy-dandy repairman I am not. What the hell is taking Elizabeth so long? Screw it. I’m outa here. She can meet me on the street, up at the corner, whatever.
I clomped down the stairs two at a time, trying not to look at Patricia’s apartment. Hard not to notice the bright lights leaking out of the covered windows. The police were still in there. Perfect. I made it to the corner as my date came sliding up in her slick red Beemer.
“Just in time.” I hopped in the passenger’s seat, leaned over, and planted a wet one on her hot pink lips. All of a sudden, the night looked a lot better.
More people than I’d ever seen at Miguel’s swarmed the place, forced us to park a half a block away. Elizabeth unfolded from her car and fluffed her hair, smokin’ hot in tight black pants, high heel
s, and a see-through black blouse with a pink bra. Big gold hoops dangled from her ears. She smelled great too.
I took her in my arms and nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. She shivered and in a husky whisper said, “Keep this up, Junior, and we may not make it to the party.”
“All right by me. You look so good I could rip those clothes right off you.”
“Easy, big guy. Let’s at least pay our respects to Miguel and Yolanda.”
Pay our respects? Who am I with, a debutant? I draped my arm around her shoulders as we weaved our way through the crowded front yard and into the house. Jane’s Addiction thumped from speakers loud enough to make talk impossible. I pointed to the kitchen, and Elizabeth nodded.
We pushed through the crowd and plucked a couple of cervezas from the refrigerator. I popped the tops and handed her one. Waves of kids filed through the tiny kitchen. Soon we were backed into a dark corner. I bent my head and shouted into her ear, “Let’s find Yolanda and then split.”
She nodded.
Dog stood in the hallway with a very young chica. “Hola, vato, where you been, man? Haven’t seen you around.”
“Here and there.” I turned to Elizabeth and winked. “I been busy.”
He nodded approval.
She grabbed my hand and led me forward. I spotted Eduardo and Freddie on the couch fondling a couple of teens years from getting their driver’s licenses. A fog of pot smoke hung over the room. Multicolored pills spilled across the coffee table, enough to dose the entire parole board for a week. I need to get the hell out of here. I spotted Nacho standing next to the sliding glass doors talking to Miguel and Yolanda. I tugged on Elizabeth’s hand and raised my chin toward them.
Elizabeth waved to Yolanda as we made our way over to the power couple. The two women hugged. “Glad you could make it Elizabeth and look who you drug along. If it isn’t the infamous Junior Alvarez.” She planted a kiss on my cheek.
Miguel fist-bumped me. “Hola, ese. Where you been, man?” “Doing my thing, school and shit.”
“Boring, huh?”
Freddie Fuck You Medina slouched up his subtle-as-a-train-wreck tat half-hidden under a red bandana. “How’s it hangin’ amigo?” Dude looked bad. Scratches crisscrossed his face and arms. A bloody bandage wrapped clumsily around his hand.
“What happened to you?” I said, “Mama kick you to the curb?”
“Laugh your ass off, motherfucker. The joke’s on you.”
“Whatever, asshole. Ready to book it, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth said, “See you at work, Yolanda. Thank you for the invitation.” She hugged Miguel and Yolanda and we headed out.
***
Elizabeth linked her arm through mine after we got out of her car, and she snuggled close. Not what I’m used to. We wound around trees and a swimming pool as we followed the path to her condo. Last time there I didn’t notice the vibe of this place. The whole complex trumpeted money, from the slow-opening wrought-iron gates to the golf course threading through the community. Wonder if it’s the same golf-course houses the gang robbed a few months ago? Could be. All golf courses look the same to me. I chuckled.
“What’s funny?” Elizabeth squeezed my arm before letting go to fish her key from her purse. The lock clicked, and she opened her front door.
“Happy to be with you is all.” I grabbed her and pulled her into a rough kiss.
“What’s the rush?” She pushed away and plopped her purse and keys in a large blue bowl on a table by the front door. She took my hand and led me into the living room.
I remembered comforting her after the drive-by shooting. I eased down on the couch and patted the cushion for her to join me.
She shook her head. “I have something I want you to try. You sit.” She disappeared into the kitchen and left me sitting there. Too wired to sit, I stood and wandered around. The ceiling soared at least two stories. Light filtered in from windows high up. The walls were painted a light tan. A large painting on the wall featured a freaky owl with four arms. Each arm ended with a bird head. Crazy shit. A coffee table of carved dark wood looked picture-perfect with girl-type magazines at one end and a funky flowerpot on the other. Thing seemed friggin’ old.
“Like my vase?” Elizabeth waltzed in carrying a plate full of cupcakes. “Antique store in Dallas said it came from an archaeological dig in China.”
“Oh, yeah?” Digs tweaked my interest from geology class. “What's with him?” I pointed at the freaked-out owl.
“That’s called Guardian Owl by Kenojuak, an Inuit artist.”
“Cool.” I never heard of Inuits and didn’t want an art lesson right then. My interests ran to the more basic. Like how to get Elizabeth out of her clothes.
“I made these and wondered if you wouldn’t mind tasting them. I’ve been experimenting.”
“They look almost as good as you do.” I reached for her.
She sidestepped my arm and set the cupcakes on the coffee table.
“I’d like to get to know you, first. You were so kind to me the last time we were together.”
“I’m boring. I’d rather get to know your body again.” I reached to catch her.
She stepped back and said, “Which do you prefer with your cupcakes, coffee, tea or milk?”
“Milk.” Wouldn’t take her long to pour a glass of milk. Then we can get to the good stuff. “Definitely. I’m a milk guy.”
The cupcakes did look great, piled high with frosting. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten a cupcake. Seems like a lot of trouble to make a little round cake.”
She returned with two glasses of milk and two small plates. “These are salted caramel.” She pointed to the cupcake piled with light-brown frosting. “Chocolate cake with a whipped cream icing and coffee beans and that one has a salted caramel in the middle with a little candy topping for crunch.”
“Really?” They didn't seem big enough to have anything in the middle. “I’m impressed.”
She studied me and continued. “Those,” she pointed to the two white ones in the middle, “are key lime with vanilla frosting. The last ones are the red velvet with cream cheese frosting.” She waited with upraised eyebrows.
“I’ll take one of each.”
Her face lit up and she handed me a small plate with four cupcakes, a cloth napkin, and a tiny fork. What was I supposed to do with a fork?
I sat on the couch and watched her smooth her napkin on her lap, take the baby fork, and slice into a cupcake. She slipped the morsel into her mouth. Kind of sexy. My turn. I followed her lead, even used the baby fork, and I think I might have groaned with pleasure when the first taste of caramel hit my mouth. Holy shit! These are the sex my taste buds didn’t know they wanted. I’d never tasted anything like them. I wanted to lick the crumbs off the plate but figured that might be bad form. “Oh, my god, Elizabeth, those were friggin’ great.”
“Really? You like them? I’ve been fiddling with my recipes for ages, and I think I’m pretty happy with these four flavors.” She placed her plate of partially eaten cupcakes on the table and leaned forward. “Tell me about you. What do you do for fun?”
“What’s to tell? I’m a guy going to college. For fun, how about I frost you?” I stood and held out my hand.
She didn’t move.
Okay, fine. I sat back down.
She leaned forward on her elbows. “How long have you known Miguel and Yolanda?”
“A few months. They were the first people I met when I came to Midland.”
“They seem cool. I can tell they like you. Yolanda said Miguel has plans for you.”
I rubbed my face. “I have plans for me. Whatever their plans are I’m not sure I want to know. I’ve got school. I’m trying to get my shit together.”
“They are involved in so many things.”
What the hell is with all the Yolanda crap?
“Yolanda said she might throw some work my way, and I could make a lot of money.”
Ah, so that’s it.
> “But I had to be careful and not report anything I made to the government.”
“She must trust you, sweet cheeks.” I scooted closer to her chair. “Not sure that’s something to get all happy about.”
“Would you put in a good word for me? It might not look like it, but I could use the money. I’m kind of behind on my credit cards and rent.”
“I don’t know, gorgeous. I got people watching me, parole board and such. I need to keep on the straight and narrow and out of trouble.”
“Please, Junior?” She leaned closer.
“Listen, I come from their world. I know it from outside the bars and in.”
She pouted.
Damn, she was cute. I tried again. “What they do is illegal. Get it? Once you enter that world it changes you. Makes it hard to get out. Sometimes you don’t.” I grabbed her hands and held them. “You seem like a nice person, Elizabeth. I like you. A lot. Those are some really bad people you’re flirting around with. If you mess up or don’t follow their rules.” I dragged a finger across my throat. No response. Like talking to a wall. “I’m trying to help you here.”
“Then talk to Yolanda. I can handle myself. I’m stronger than you think, and I could use the money.”
“Fine.” What can I say? I’m weak. “Remember I warned you.”
She nodded solemnly. “You did, but I’m a grown woman, and I make my own decisions. I appreciate your warning, and I won’t forget it.”
Hell, it’s her life. I pulled out my phone. “I’ll text Miguel.”
He replied immediately: Done. Bring her over tomorrow. Yolanda will set her up.
I showed her his answer.
“Thank you, thank you.” She clapped like a schoolgirl, which made me feel even shittier. “You don’t know what this means to me. I hope someday I can return the favor.”
West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery Page 16