West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery

by Frances Hight

Chapter Fifty-Five

  Junior

  I felt jittery and anxious after giving my statement to that prick of a cop. I jumped at every beep of a horn or class bell for days. I went to class every day expecting to be arrested. I sat home watching TV with an ear cocked for footsteps on the stairs. I did nothing but school, parole officer, and home. I didn’t return Elizabeth’s calls. I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position if the cops were watching me. I didn’t see Miguel or the gang, I kept my head down and worked my assignments. No arrest, nothing new.

  I relaxed into my new role. Old Mrs. Young, the head of the art department, gave me twelve modeling gigs this week. All I have to do is pose with my shirt off. The students really dig drawing my tats, burns, and scars. This is the last session, and I’ve made a cool twelve hundred dollars sitting on my ass. Only problem is she pays me with checks. If I keep this up I won’t be able to stay on welfare. I’ve got to figure this out. I don’t make enough to pay for my apartment, food, and school. I hate to turn down the work, but unless they can pay me under the table, I’m going to have to quit. I’ll talk to Young after this pose. I should call Elizabeth tonight and get my head out of my ass.

  I stayed still, held my pose, wishing I knew about that meditation crap. S’posed to make this shit fly by.

  The door to the classroom crashed open. Two cops entered and scanned the students before they zeroed in on me, a posing Adonis. Posing asshole’s more like it.

  Mrs. Young tottered over to them while the whole class stopped drawing me and gawked. She said, “May I help you, officers?”

  The prick that questioned me at the station marched up to me without acknowledging her and said, “Mr. Alvarez, you are under arrest for the murder of Patricia Keystone.” He said it loud so the kids in the back row could hear and jingled his handcuffs in front of my face. The whole class gasped. He smirked. I picked up my shirt, shrugged it on, and clasped my hands behind my back. Seems I’ve been doing that my whole life. Except this time, for once, I was innocent.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Kailey

  I closed the door to the therapist’s office, my release in hand. I felt like I thought cons must feel sprung from jail. I’m free! Free to get back to work full time and get back on the case. Finally. God. I felt better than I had in weeks as I strolled over to the elevator. Dr. Whittingham said all the right things, so kind and compassionate. She listened and gave me ways to handle my grief without making me feel like a whining little girl. For more than a month I’d felt frozen, paralyzed, waiting for something to happen that never did. Hell, if there’d been an incident where someone needed a police officer they would have been SOL with me.

  The elevator doors whooshed open and there stood Jacob Kade, high school jock gone fat and doughy. He nodded to me. He had no idea who shared the car with him, which was fine by me. How does a fit, handsome teenager turn into a balding, fat lump in ten years? I felt like asking him what happened, but he buried his face in a newspaper as we flew down to the first floor. I glanced at the headlines on the front page; they were hard to miss: Police Arrest Neighbor for Murder of Midland Woman.

  What?

  How did I not know about this?

  “Hey, Jacob, remember me?” I said.

  The jock-gone-to-seed jumped and looked at me closely.

  “Oh, hey. Carley, right?”

  “Officer Kailey. I’m going to need your newspaper.”

  “What?”

  The elevator doors opened to the sound of falling water from the indoor waterfall. I snatched his newspaper and walked out of the elevator car.

  “But, you can’t do that.”

  “Actually, Jacob, I can.” I flashed my badge and watched his white doughy face go doughier. “Official police business.”

  I felt great doing it. Probably shouldn’t have. Over a stupid newspaper. But man I felt good. Better than I had in a long time.

  First stop, Samosa’s office to drop off my clearance papers.

  Then find Shinto and Allen. I had an idea who they arrested. More importantly, I wanted to know why.

  Officer Kailey Carmichael, forensic specialist and righter of wrongs, to the rescue.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Junior

  I sat quietly on my ride to the police station. Kept my Doc Martins planted on the floorboards and stared in the rearview at the ass-wipe driving the car. This wasn’t my first rodeo. The handle-less doors and the cratered seat felt almost like home. The signature police cruiser smell of vomit and cigarettes took me back to other rides at other times. The steel mesh cage between the front seat and me tempted me, begged me to hook my fingers in it and rage. For what?

  Soon they’d have me back in the only life I’d ever known. Outside had me going for a while. Gotta admit it. I came so close, made friends, growing a new Junior. Almost got me believing I could survive as a productive citizen. Should have known it wouldn’t last. Jail doesn’t let go that easy. It doesn’t like defectors. When you’ve been in the system as long as I have, it brands you with a hopeless reek to keep reminding you of that.

  I sat back in the seat, handcuffs biting into my wrists. Officer Dempsey had squeezed them extra tight, enjoyed the theatrics of roughing me up in art class. The big man in front of all the students. Must have given him a chubby pushing a handcuffed sucker around. A sucker too smart to strike back.

  Officer Asshole pulled me out of the cruiser and shoved me toward the building’s double doors.

  He led me to the same interrogation room from several weeks ago. I sat alone for an hour and a half before Officers Dempsey and Shinto Elliot showed up. Dempsey sat across from me and belched. Officer Elliot stood against the door and frowned. At the belch or me I couldn’t tell.

  Officer Elliot pinned me with her gaze. “Hello, Junior.”

  “Officer Elliot,” I countered.

  “Still doing your exemplary work in police procedure class?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The other day I aced a test. Only one in the class to earn an A.”

  Officer Dempsey sneered. “You’ve had enough practice with the system.” He glanced over at Officer Elliot. “You allow parolees to take your class?”

  “I made the dean’s honor roll last semester.” I leaned back on two legs of the metal chair and balanced against the wall.

  “Model citizen,” Officer Dempsey quipped. “Get it? We arrested you modeling.” His guffaw died when he realized no one else laughed.

  I glanced over at Officer Elliot. She frowned, definitely at the asshole, and said, “Mr. Alvarez, you have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law. Do you understand your rights?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You are charged with the murder of Patricia Keystone,” Officer Dempsey stated. He leafed through a manila folder. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” He looked up.

  “I didn’t kill Patricia.” I so wanted to say and do more. Rip his face off, for one thing. The old me liked that idea very much. The new me had other ideas. Ask for Mr. Sanchez. Don’t be stupid. This is serious shit. The new me won.

  Officer Dempsey said, “Uh-huh. Well, let’s talk about that, shall we?”

  “I’ve been advised by my attorney, Mr. Sanchez of Sanchez and Sanchez and—”

  “We know him,” said Shinto.

  “He told me not to talk to you, and I’m requesting he be called or I be allowed to call him before I answer any questions.” The smart, new Junior thumbed his nose at them. No way I’m going down for a murder I didn’t commit. I’m going to fight for me and fight smart this time. Which meant I needed someone even smarter in my corner.

  “If that’s what you want, I’ll contact him.” Officer Elliot left the interrogation room.

  Shit Face stayed. “Why not admit you did it, Junior? Save us all some time. We have your fingerprints all over the murder weapon.”

  Outside I gave him stone. Inside I’d already smashed his face to pink goo.


  “Don’t be a wiseass, Junior. Clear up this mess and I’ll get you a deal. Put a good word in, tell the judge you’ve reformed and seen the light. Maybe you won’t see the inside of the gas chamber. Maybe you’ll get twenty to life.” He tried to look hurt. “Trying to help you out, buddy. That’s all. We have your little drawing.” He placed crime scene photos in a methodical grid on the table in front of me and laid a piece of paper with a familiar doodle in a plastic sleeve on top. The crowning blow.

  I sat still and didn’t blink.

  He slapped me on the shoulder, my buddy, doing me a solid. “Admit it, man. You’ll feel better. We’ll all feel better, giving this poor woman’s family some peace.” He stood and leaned over the table. “Go on, take a look. Whoever drew this was a real artiste, don’t you think?” He tapped the drawing with a manicured fingernail. “This is yours, right? I’m betting those are your neighbor’s tits. Seems you might have been watching her and her tits. Same ones you sliced off her when you killed her.”

  I twitched, once, slightly. I had to, because in my mind I’d already leapt up and dug both thumbs into his eye sockets.

  Blissfully unaware, my tormenter continued. “Then we have this beauty.” He dangled a plastic evidence bag with a knife in it, a KA-BAR. A most particular and familiar KA-BAR. “Do you deny this baby’s your knife?” He showed me the knife missing from my kitchen drawer. “Around here we have a term for that. We call it the murder weapon.”

  I’m a dead man.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Kailey

  “Captain, I’m ready for duty.” I placed the therapist’s clearance papers on his desk.

  “Good, you’re needed, officer.” He rose and shook my hand, sat down, and continued. “Tom needed to take a leave. His wife has advanced breast cancer.”

  “Oh, my god. They have young kids.”

  “Three.” He nodded. “It’s a tough time for them.”

  “I can take his caseload. I don’t mind some overtime.”

  “I’ll put you down for it.” He shuffled papers on his desk, a sure sign we were through.

  I didn’t move.

  “Something I can help you with, officer?”

  “I’d like to know what’s been happening with the Patricia Keystone case. It was the last case I worked when Momma died.”

  He thrummed fingers on his desk. “Not going to let that go, are you?”

  I figured mute may be my best option.

  He sighed. “Have the team read you in. I’ll put you on rotation.”

  “Thanks, Captain. I appreciate it.” I turned to leave, my hand on the doorknob.

  Captain Samosa stopped me. “Kailey, one moment. Have a seat.”

  “Sir?” I sat.

  He shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk before selecting one. “Ah, yes. You’d be perfect for this. Since you’ve been on leave we have been given a liaison from DEA. They have an agent working an undercover case in town. I’d like you to make contact. Find out what progress they’ve made and how they’d like us to assist them. It’s the Feds, Kailey. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

  No, he didn’t. Politics, turf wars, interference, jealousy, and all-around stonewalling ahead. “Sounds great. I’m sure we’ll all get along fine.”

  He looked at me with an expression that said he suspected I was yanking his chain but couldn’t quite be sure. “Yeah, well, her name is Harper Salazar. Her phone number and information are all on this page.”

  “The agent’s a female?”

  “Not sexist, are you Kailey?”

  “What? Me? No.”

  He laughed. “I know. That’s why I asked. I’d like you on this ASAP.”

  “Right away, Captain.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Junior

  The door to the interrogation room burst open and in stormed Carlos Sanchez. “May I ask what the hell is going on here?”

  Officer Dempsey in mid-rant about my guilt, stopped and said wide-eyed, “Two old pals chattin’. What does it look like?”

  “I believe, sir, this innocent man asked for a lawyer. I will be happy to re-acquaint you with the law if need be.”

  Dempsey didn’t reply.

  “No? Excellent.” Sanchez placed his briefcase on the table. “If you would be so kind, may I speak with my client? Alone?”

  Dempsey slowly gathered the photos, papers, the knife and closed the file. “We aren’t finished, Mr. Alvarez.” He left the room.

  “Are you all right Junior?” Mr. Sanchez sat in the seat recently vacated by Officer Dempsey. His cologne wafted over to me. It smelled like hope.

  “They got all this evidence on me. Serious shit. I don’t know how. They have my knife and claim it’s the knife that killed my neighbor. They have my fingerprints on the knife. They have a stupid drawing. I’m fried, dude, a dead man.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I swear on my mother’s eyes, I did not kill that woman. I admit when I do shit, and I have done some really stupid shit in my time. But not this. This,” I waved my arms around the room, “I didn’t do.”

  “You think someone is setting you up?”

  “Seems that way.”

  “Who?”

  “There’s a long list, sir.” I scratched my head. “I tend to piss people off.”

  Sanchez smiled when he pulled a tiny recorder and a tablet out of his briefcase. He clicked his pen and said, “I’d say we have some work to do.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Kailey

  I called the number the captain gave me. “Agent Harper, this is Officer Kailey Carmichael, Midland Police Department. Please call me. I’ve been told we need to meet and sort through things. You apparently have an op working in our area, and we want our departments to mesh as effectively as possible for all concerned.”

  Five minutes after I hung up, my cell rang. “This is Agent Salazar, Kailey. When and where would you like to get together? I’m free today.”

  “Works for me. Do you want a public or private meeting?”

  “Private, if possible.”

  “How about Resthaven Cemetery? Let’s meet at Adam Roarke’s gravesite.”

  “A gravesite? Perfect. Adam Roarke?”

  “Kind of a local celebrity of sorts. An actor and director, started out as a gang member at thirteen. Ask anyone there. They’ll direct you.”

  “Sounds appropriate. How about twenty minutes? Who should I look for?”

  “I’m blonde, wearing jeans and boots. I suggest you do the same. There are some gnarly fire ants at Resthaven,” I said.

  “Fire ants?”

  “Stay away from open-toed shoes and you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up about the ants. I’m a skinny Puerto Rican with dark hair, dark eyes, and I’ve been told, a bit of an attitude.”

  “See you there.” I liked her already.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Junior

  I asked my attorney, “Want a list of all the people I’ve pissed off in Midland or since I hit jail?”

  “Every single person you can think of. We covered a lot of territory the last time we spoke at my house. I have gone over what you said and made copies.” He slid a stack of papers over to me. “Perhaps this will help jog your memory.”

  Sanchez sat quietly for several minutes and let me read.

  I looked up when I finished and he said, “Junior, I reviewed your record. It is indeed an impressive list of, let us say, ill-advised escapades and they form a definite a pattern. In most you are either drunk or high or both. No tendency toward major crimes that I can see.”

  I nodded. “That’s me. I thought this college thing might be my ticket, give me a chance to see the other side.” I chuckled. “Biggest scam of all, right? Universe doesn’t seem to want me out in the real world.” I shifted in my seat.

  The lawyer narrowed his eyes. “Junior, it has been my experience that we get the world we make for ourselves. You want out of the cycle you have been in all your
life? I suggest we start now.”

  I must have stared at him like he sprouted wings.

  “You are an intelligent young man, and I am willing to help you all I can. But we must be partners in this. In our immediate matter, the police have amassed a lot of evidence against you. It occurs to me, too much. Clearly, someone is out to bury you. So far, they are getting away with it. Your job is figuring out who that someone is. Who the hell did you piss off who might be smart enough to accomplish this?”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Kailey

  “It’s a beautiful evening, Momma. You’d love it. You and I should be sitting out on the porch swing with a glass of lemonade.” I leaned over and brushed dust off her headstone. “Love you, Momma.” I stepped away from her grave and headed for a meet with Harper Salazar, DEA agent.

  Adam Roarke’s gravesite had one of the few benches, and the large oak tree planted behind it offered shade even on this hot day. Time to see what DEA is doing in the beating heart of our little oil community.

  Midland expands and contracts with the whims of the world’s need for oil, and when the boom happened it brought all sorts of trash with it. I didn’t have to guess what brought DEA here. Within minutes I heard a car. I sat and watched. This spot came with a great view of the parking lot, and I saw a red BMW convertible pull up. If that’s her, DEA is paying a lot better than Midland Police. She emerged wearing a white button-down blouse, starched jeans, and designer boots. Her hair swung in a ponytail tied with a white bow. A pair of aviator sunglasses completed her look. Who the hell dresses like that in Texas?

  “Kailey?”

  “Harper?” I rose and shook her hand. “Thanks for the meet.”