“Junior, you are being released. Provisionally.”
“Let me guess, you’re my provision.”
“Exactly.” She stepped out into the hall and swung the door wide. “You like it here? Want to stay? Play hearts with your buddies?”
I stood and walked out.
“I assume you know where the exit is,” she said.
I said nothing. The catcalls and wolf whistles coming from the holding cells spoke for me. Female visitors always got that treatment no matter what they looked like and this woman, law enforcement or not, looked mighty fine in her tight cop pants and jacket.
She stayed silent until we burst out into the cool morning air.
“Car’s at the curb. The blue one.”
“Naturally, it’s blue.”
She chuckled at my comment.
Once at the car, she unlocked the doors and transformed from official cop to everywoman. The uniform coat came off. Official black shoes switched out for sneakers. Pulled back hair fluffed and hung loose.
“Nice,” I said.
“Trust me, it’s not for you. It’s for where we’re going. Get in.”
When we were settled, she cranked the ignition and yanked the car into gear. “We got you out because we have some work to do.”
“We? Who’s we?”
“People who want to find the real person who murdered that poor woman.”
“I know who killed Patricia. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Let me guess. You’re going to go score a gun and blow his brains out?”
“I don’t need a gun.”
She eyed me up and down like she read my mind. That wasn’t happening. I can barely read my own.
“How about some breakfast?” she said. “We’ll eat, and I’ll explain the situation. You hungry?”
I thought of the dinner I tossed in the trash the night before. “I could eat.”
We pulled into a dump of a restaurant, La Condesa painted over top a cheesy mural on the outside wall.
“Your favorite special place?”
“I hope you like Mexican,” she said.
“I’ve lived in Texas all my life.”
“Then you’ll like this.”
We sat under the TV in the corner. The smell of chili, frying meat, and hot corn tortillas made my stomach sit up and growl. The menus on the table were greasy and food spattered. My kind of place.
She ordered the Machaca a la Mexicana, two eggs with machaca and pico de gallo, beans and potatoes. I ordered Juanito’s Breakfast, two corn tortillas with two eggs topped with asadero cheese, salsa Española, chopped bacon, beans, and potatoes.
The woman certainly knows her comida. Our plates came, awash in red sauce and melted cheese. I inhaled like it might be my last breath. Sweet Jesus. I made a note to request La Condesa for my death row meal.
We ate in silence.
She wiped her plate with the last warm tortilla, shoved it into her mouth, and talked around it. “Now, to business.”
I finished at the same time and swallowed the last of my sweet tea. I sat back and enjoyed ten seconds of pure bliss before Chigger’s revelations came back to me. A wash of stomach acid immediately started in on my breakfast.
“You’re on everybody’s radar. You get that?” she said.
I decided no comment may be my best strategy.
“You’re my responsibility. My ass is on the line for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No. I’m telling you that’s how it is. Our arrangement will run like grease through a goose. If you screw this up, I’ll take you back to County myself. For the record, your record will suck big time if I do. You understand?”
“I’ll understand better when you explain what our arrangement actually is.” I can’t take much more of this cat-and-mouse crap. I need to get out of her grasp and find Freddie.
“Let’s go. I’ll explain when we get there.”
I can’t wait.
She drove like she had a bee up her ass. Her car rattled and vibrated when she took it over fifty. Piece of shit. You’d think a cop could afford better. I scratched my ear and glanced over at her. She looked to be about my age and pretty in a tough-cop way. Bet many a young man got a boner when she handcuffed him. I smiled at the thought. She snapped her head my way and squinted. Not possible. She’s a mind reader too?
We pulled up to a yellow brick house with black shutters in a neighborhood I’d never been to before. A large tree threw shade on the hot Midland day. Green grass, big, floppy tropic-like plants under the tree. Nice place.
We got out and marched up to the door. I hung back, ready to knock, but my cop walked right in, no knock, no doorbell. I figured it must be her place and followed, until she yelled, “We’re here.”
Her boyfriend’s house? Always wondered if cops dated cops.
Out walks hard-ass Detective Elliot.
“Shinto,” my cop says, “you remember Junior?”
I froze.
“How could I ever forget?” Elliot grunted and pointed to a dark brown leather couch.
I’ll be damned. Carmichael and Shinto Elliot, a pair of dykes? Then, another woman comes out in a robe, toweling off stringy brown hair. What the—? A threesome?
“Junior, Heather. Heather, Junior.” Officer Elliot went to the new woman, tugged, and cinched the lady’s robe tight.
I got tired of standing and walked the place, checking out the shelves, trying to look interested.
“Jesus, Junior, light someplace. Please?” Officer Carmichael said.
“No problem, officer,” I said. “Always happy to help.”
“You can start by calling me Kailey. That’s Shinto. The drowned rat is Heather.”
I sat on the couch next to my new friend Kailey and nodded in everyone’s general direction.
“Why don’t we cue up the video, Shinto?” Kailey said.
Shinto stopped messing with Heather’s robe and made a face like she’d bitten into something sour. “Go big or go home,” she said.
My prickly new friend disappeared into another room and came out with a laptop. She opened it on the coffee table in front of me and clicked the mousepad.
“Looks like you guys are going to get into something here,” Heather said. “I’ll leave y’all to it.” She disappeared back down the hallway in the direction she came from.
“Here, big guy,” Shinto swiveled the computer in my direction. “Take a gander.”
The picture flickered grainy, like a video from a cheap security camera.
“This is from a security camera,” Kailey said.
I smiled and said nothing. When I scooted closer to see better, I recognized the outside of my apartment building. “What the hell is this?”
“Keep watching,” Shinto said.
A man scurried from the bushes on the corner of the property swiveling his head right and left like the cowardly piece of shit he was. I’d recognize Freddie’s slouchy walk anywhere.
“Know him?” Shinto said.
“Never seen him before,” I said.
But I will see him soon. Very soon.
“There are a couple more clips. See if you can make him out.” Kailey got up to stand behind me. I felt her hands on the back of the couch.
I watched the skulking, murderous fucker track pretty much the same route in each video except the last one.
The last one differed, because Freddie disappeared up the stairs into my apartment.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath.
Kailey came around from behind the couch and slapped the laptop shut. “Tell me his name.”
“How about John Doe? Give me a break, officer. This ain’t exactly HBO quality.”
“And I knew better liars in second grade,” she said. “Who is he?”
I put on my gee-I’d-love-to-help look. Kailey sat down beside me with a grin that could freeze hot coffee in its mug.
“Junior,” she said, “we are establishing tr
ust here, today. Between you, Shinto, and me. Without trust, we can’t rely on one another. If we can’t rely on you, we don’t need you.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “Tomorrow morning you get to go back to cold oatmeal and rotten bananas for breakfast. Sound good?”
Not how I’d envisioned my day going. Not after a plate of the best food I’d eaten in years.
“Fine.” Kailey stood. “You were right, Shinto. I should have listened to you. Junior’s living in his own little fantasy world. Up. Let’s go.”
“Wait a second. Hold on,” I said. “You don’t trust me, right?”
“Brilliant,” Shinto said. “Your boy’s a genius, Kailey.”
“Well, I don’t trust you guys either, okay? So, there’s something.”
“What are you saying?” Kailey said.
“Mutual distrust. Let’s build on that.”
“Are you fucking high?” Shinto said. “I told you, girl. He’s playing us. Enjoy your ride back home in that piece of crap car of hers.”
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. Something about the sight of Miss Badass Cop driving that shit box of a car got me going. “Now that, we can agree on. That is the worst set of wheels. I felt ashamed to be seen in it and I just came from fucking jail.”
That got Shinto laughing with me. And we couldn’t stop.
“Smells, too,” she said. “Notice that stink it has?”
“Like a burnt onion dog-shit sandwich?” I said.
“Exactly.” Shinto howled, and I joined her.
“Okay, okay. Don’t rag on my car. I’m going to get it fixed.”
“Bwa, ha, ha.” Shinto clutched her stomach.
Pretty soon Kailey couldn’t hold out and laughed right along with us.
After we all caught our breath, Shinto wiped tears from her eyes, and Kailey went to the kitchen. She came back with a box of tissues, and a friggin’ lightbulb clicked on in my head. What the hell, right? I’ve done stupider shit in my life than trust a couple of cops. At least these had a sense of humor.
“Okay, okay. Thing is, I might have a glimmer of a sort of an idea about who that guy on the video maybe could be.”
“I like how positive you are, Junior,” Shinto said. “Damn inspiring.”
“Here’s the thing, Junior,” Kailey said. “We already know who that guy is. All we want from you is confirmation.”
“Yeah,” Shinto said. “It’s like a test.”
I nodded, collecting my thoughts. Either they were bullshitting or they weren’t. Did it matter in the long run? Whether they knew Fuck You starred in their video or not wouldn’t stop me from gutting the bastard.
“Freddie Medina,” I said. “He has a real attractive tattoo on his forehead.”
“Does that slime even have a mother?” Shinto said. “Bet she’s proud of her little boy. Look ma, at my new tattoo! I’m impressed he spelled fuck right. Gotta give him that.”
“We call him Fuck You because it’s fun to say,” Kailey said. “We’ve got him running with Los Demonios and Miguel Castillo.”
“Why do you guys need me?” I said. “You got all that, what am I doing here?”
“You’re going to help us put him where he belongs,” Kailey said.
“I know exactly where he belongs,” I said, “but I’ll bet you every cupcake in that box over there we have a different opinion about where exactly is. By the way, I haven’t eaten in at least an hour. I could use some dessert.”
Shinto inclined her head at the box. “Knock yourself out. Keep your big mitts off the chocolate with coffee beans. That one’s mine.”
Holy shit.
I took a real close look at the cupcake box and the tasty morsels left in it. I’d seen those same cupcakes before. The chocolate with coffee beans was my favorite, too. I decided that the day Elizabeth offered me one.
Well, this changes things. This changes things a lot.
An hour later, back in my speck in the desert, the apartment felt like a release after jail. Didn’t think the ladies would ever let me go. They peppered me with questions, and I dodged them up to the second Kailey dropped me off.
I plugged in my cell and sat on the bed to scroll through my missed messages. Elizabeth called a few times, Miguel seven times, and one random telemarketer. I couldn’t listen to any of them right then. I had to focus and prioritize. My leg bounced in time to my thoughts. I needed wheels and answers, in that order. I dialed Elizabeth’s number, and she answered on the first ring.
“Hi, stranger. How are you?”
“Jones-ing for cupcakes at the moment. How are you, Elizabeth?”
“I’m flattered you remembered. I might be able to whip up a new batch. Any requests?”
“You made a chocolate with coffee beans I really liked.”
Silence.
“You there?”
She cleared her throat. “Running over my ingredients on hand. Might have to stop by the store later.”
“Which brings me to the next reason for my call. I need a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I need a ride. Maybe on the way to your store?”
“You’re on. What time?” she said.
“Need to shower lock-up stink off me.”
More silence.
“Junior. What did you do?”
“Nothing they could hold me for. Not for long, anyway. But I got a feeling my life is going to get complicated soon. I need to prepare.”
“How can I help?”
“Pick me up in say, an hour?”
“See you then, lover.”
I hung up and replayed the call in my head. No question, my sexy little cupcake has layers she’s not showing me. How much does Elizabeth know about me? What’s her connection to Kailey and Shinto? Who the hell is she, really?
Time to stir the pot, add some jalapeños, chili powder and a ton of tomatoes for my friend, Patricia.
I turned my shower to scald and waited for the steam to build. Jail showers never get hot enough. After my time at County and dealing with my new cop buddies, I felt the need to come clean. Squeaky. Clean.
Chapter Seventy
Kailey and Shinto
I picked up on the first ring, and Shinto’s sarcasm oozed from the receiver. “That went well. Did you deposit our baby in his crib?”
“I did. Have you heard from our DEA boss?”
“Harper is MIA. Do you mind filling her in?” Shinto said. “Me and my girl are headed out for a movie with friends.”
“Must be nice to have a life. Will your considerably better half be in the lab tomorrow? I have an idea I want to run by her.”
“She will. Gotta go. See ya.”
The phone went silent, and I put in my fifth call to Harper.
This time I waited for the auto message to finish and left a voicemail. “I didn’t have a problem getting our subject out. We interviewed him. He identified Freddie Medina. I took him to his apartment. I’ll be at the Midland Police Lab tomorrow following up on an idea. Call me.”
At six a.m., bag of bagels and a box of coffees in hand, I pushed through the doors of Heather’s lab and rounded the corner to her desk. “Good morning, Heather. I brought a bribe.” I deposited the coffee and goodies beside her keyboard.
“Good morning, Kailey. I’m happy to see you, too. Why no, I’m not busy at all.” Heather raised the Styrofoam cup up in a mock salute.
“Sorry. My manners go down the tubes when I’m in focus mode.” I sat on the edge of her desk, took a healthy swig of my double espresso and closed my eyes, waiting on the heavenly caffeine jolt to come.
“What can I do you for?”
“Still have the evidence from the Patricia Keystone case handy?”
“You betcha.” Heather peered into the bagel bag and pulled out a salt-encrusted delight.
I took the plunge. “Last night I watched Forensic Files and —.”
Heather stopped with the bagel halfway to her mouth. “For the love of God, Kailey. Please tell me you’re not inter
rupting my day to discuss TV science.”
“Seriously, Heather.”
“Sorry, Kailey.” She bit into the bagel. “Come talk to me when you have something real to discuss.”
I ignored her verbal slap. “Do we still have the knife recovered from the trash container in back of her apartment?”
“Yes.” She scrolled through her email, ignoring me. Not a good sign.
I rushed ahead. “You identified it as belonging to Junior Alvarez.”
“Chain of evidence from the scene did that for me.” She opened an email and read.
“Did you take the knife apart and check for blood trapped under the handle? Maybe blood other than the vic’s?”
She stopped chewing and drummed her fingers on the desk. “Forensic Files?”
I pretended not to hear and rummaged in the bag for my own bagel.
“Okay, you caught me. No,” Heather said. “Allen insisted the knife belonged to Junior Alvarez.” She pushed away from her desk. “Dammit. That makes me mad.” She stood. “Follow me.”
We made our way to the evidence room where Heather strode purposefully down a row of gray metal shelves. “Bingo.” She reached for a cardboard container on the top shelf. The label on the end had Patricia Keystone and a case number scrawled in felt-tip marker. She lugged it to a table set against the far wall and lifted the lid. “What have we here?”
She reached inside and pulled out a plastic bag of crime scene photos. The top one on the stack a close-up of a boot print in a puddle of smashed tomato. “Check it out.” She held it up. “Idiot stepped on a tomato at the scene which you bagged or me, thank you very much. Tomato’s in the freezer. Cast of the print is in here somewhere.” She rummaged about. “But—” She removed a hunting knife, also in a plastic bag. “This beauty is what we came for. Let’s see how much you retained from your crash course in the science of forensics.”
Back in the lab she handed me a box of latex gloves after pulling out a pair for herself. “Suit up, Kailey. Let’s see if I need to put Forensic Files on my Must-See TV list.
“First time through, if I remember right, we got a pretty good fingerprint. According to our records, definitely Junior Alvarez’s.” She plucked the knife from the bag. “Let’s play your hunch, disassemble this bad boy, see if we can do your Forensic Files proud.”
West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery Page 22