by Deanna King
Luck got up and looked at Jack with a Heaven help us expression.
“I know, we heard you were one of the best back then.”
“No, I wasn’t. I used to be, but then I needed money, I was sucked in, to the dark side. You know, like the Star Wars dark side. I even had a Princess Layya. Bang-up super whore, but bad news for me. That’s when it got worse.” Spittle came out of his mouth and his hands were shaking. Jack thought he’d be using the nurse call button, but Ian settled down just as fast as he had revved up.
“It’s all right, Ian, it’s all going to be fine, hear me? We’re on your side, brothers in blue all the way,” he assured him.
Ian sat silently in a gloomy state then his demeanor changed again. He was like flashing Christmas lights, you never knew what color would flash next.
“Is Randy ever going to come back, is he going to come see me before I die?”
“We’ll check around for you, okay?”
Randy had been dead for a number of years. Jack knew that the old guy knew that fact deep in his heart. It would be best for him now if he carried the hope that his son would show up someday. Ian Simpson didn’t want to recall that he had turned a blind eye and had been involved in covering up his own son’s murder. His current state was enough punishment, he would answer to his maker one day, and it wasn’t his call.
Jack got back to the girl. “What happened to Princess Layya, Ian, do you know?”
“Huh, that feller they called The Big Bad Wolff, he happened to her, the damn fool. He was some hotshot, or he worked for some damn hotshot Asian lawyer. I hate attorneys, they think they’re above the rest of us.”
This matched up with Daphne’s story…Troy Wolf was involved in some way.
Ian was aggressive again, scolding himself. “You dummy, you moron, you big fool.” He started slapping at his knees. Drool slipped through his lips.
“Ian, what’s the matter, what is it?” Jack worried that the man would have a stroke and his hand was reaching for the pull cord when Ian spoke.
“Damn it to hell,” he swore, “wish I was a good cop, hope they never find out I ain’t because I gotta keep my job, my paycheck is all we got. You know Randy is on the football team, and he wants new cleats.”
His face was angelic and he smiled. “You guys want to come to the game next week?”
“Ian, I think we’re all ready for that burger. I’m going to go get your nurse.”
He wanted to make sure she would have the kitchen make him a big juicy burger, in lieu of them bringing one back. He didn’t want the old guy disappointed.
“Did you get any useful information?” Nurse Theresa asked.
“Yes, ma’am, we did,” Lucky answered her. “You’re right, he does repeat himself a lot.”
“Ma’am, here’s my card, and if he needs anything, let me know. I’d like to visit him when I can—not as a fellow police officer, but as a man visiting another man.”
“Detective West, I think that’s a fine idea, a very fine idea indeed.” Her smile was very sunny. “Here’s my card, call me to arrange it. I know he’d love a ride into town for a day. Don’t wait too long, because one never knows when your last ride is coming for you, understand?”
“Ma’am, yes, I do understand.” Cole popped into his thoughts. They waved good-bye to Ian at the door, Nurse Theresa backed up the wheelchair and took him back to his room, and they both knew that in time, a very short time, he would have forgotten they were even there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Back in the truck, they sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them in thought before Lucky spoke up first.
“So, what we have is this. A dying hooker spills her guts, implicating Judge Wolff in the possible, and I say possible, death of another hooker. An old retired detective who has dementia says that The Big Bad Wolff, meaning Judge Wolff, had something to do with the alleged death of this hooker. He also states that his partner, Pete Bullard, killed his son and he assisted in the cover-up. In addition to that, two men are shot, the hooker, my missing girl, is the only witness and since she is dead, that case goes cold. Your dying hooker says that the hit on Richmond was an ordered hit, but who ordered it? She says that the supposedly dead girl in the car, Celeste Mason, was the boss, but she isn’t dead, because a sad, drunk, stupid bartender spills his guts one night. Add in that our dementia-ridden retired detective, Ian Simpson, admits that he killed Scottie Buccella and now there’s a new boss. But there isn’t a new boss because Celeste is still the boss. If what Ian says is true, she never stopped being the boss. Jesus, Jack, this is like a bad crime novel, don’tcha think?”
“That about covers it. There are coupla’ problems I see.”
“My Lord, Jack, you only see a couple of problems, that’s all, cuz I see half a dozen of them,” Lucky retorted rather curtly.
Jack ignored his partner’s peeved tone of voice.
“Ian Simpson could die anytime, who knows. I mean, he’s about seventy, seventy-five, and he has a disease of his memory circuits. The ex-hooker is dying of lung cancer. Hell, she’s probably already dead, because she was in bad shape when I saw her and there is no miracle around the corner for her. Neither one of them will be able to take the stand. We don’t have a last name for this Skip, or even know if he’s alive. That rather leaves us with zilch.”
“Then what’s our next step? I mean, if the bottom falls out, I’ll be there, I have your back.” His irritation gone, Lucky wanted to get to the truth and get the cases solved.
“I want to be able to compare DNA. I think we need to exhume the body to prove that my dead girl is, in fact, your missing girl.”
“One body—what are you going to compare it to, Jack?”
“Celeste Mason’s mother, we’ll have to exhume her body.”
Lucky’s whistle was low and long and turned into him just blowing out air, since he didn’t whistle well.
“Who in the hell is gonna pay for this, and who is going to sign off on this? I don’t think the captain will agree with this plan at all. And Jack, an exhumation, word gets out the judge might hear…”
Jack cut him off. “Let’s see what Yao says, we may be able to keep it under wraps. I say we go back to the station and go see the captain.”
“Hey, are you hungry?” Lucky’s stomach growled. “And no, I do not want a juicy burger.”
“He’s a funny guy, that Ian Simpson. You know, it is sad, but he was pretty funny too. Hey, how about we stop for some chicken, you want takeout or dine-in?” Jack began scanning the area for a chicken place.
“Grab-and-go would be fine. We can’t be piddle-farting around.”
Jack had to agree, both of the cases had sat for twenty-five years, unsolved, and they didn’t need to keep sitting.
. . .
Back at the station, Captain Yao was in his office at his desk, papers piled around him. What Jack requested caused him to blow his stack.
“Jack, you want to exhume that dead girl’s body, are you nuts? That is gonna cost the city a buttload of cash.” Davis Yao was not happy at all about this suggestion. His budget was taking a beating.
“I know, I know, but it’s not just one body we need to exhume.”
“Christ Almighty, Jack, who else do you want to dig up?” His face tinged pink and got darker. His blood pressure was about to give him a freaking stroke.
The captain’s face turned five shades of red, sweat beaded on his brow; Lucky was ready to dial 911.
“Celeste Mason’s mother. I want to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the dead girl in the car was not her. That can be done with mitochondrial DNA, that’s who and that’s why.”
>
Davis Yao sat back limply in his chair. This burden was weighing on him. Exhumations were something you couldn’t keep under your hat. If word got out, it would spread, and that was one of the many things he didn’t want happening. Too many people in the mix, a buttload of money, this was newsworthy. If it hit the papers, Judge Wolff would read it, and then he would know they were on to him.
They sat silently as they watched a range of emotions play across Captain Yao’s face.
“Jack, tell you what,” the captain began, “we won’t go as far as exhumations—that will be a last resort. I want to get this solved, but not this way. My biggest concern is keeping this out of the papers. Hellfire, Jack, exhumations mean big news, no way can we keep that under wraps.”
He looked at them both shaking his head. This was ludicrous, what would be next, tearing through Judge Wolff’s house with a search warrant?
Jack started to say something, but Yao cut him off.
“Jack, first see what else you can get from that Berrie woman and that fella she shacks up with. Before we have to start digging up bones, I want some old-fashioned police work done. Talk to them, break one of them. If what the dying hooker says is true, then they both know more than they’re telling you. If we have to exhume bodies, Chief Pratt will get involved. I don’t want to do that if we don’t have to. We wouldn’t have to exhume bodies at all if we had everyone’s DNA sample on file, that would be cheaper than an exhumation.”
“I understand, Captain. We’re gonna head out to Waller right now.”
“Why not call them, have them come into the station?”
“Lucky and I already discussed re-questioning them, but I want to go out there, surprise them. I don’t want them to be able to concoct a story before we get there.”
“You’re right, Jack, the element of surprise is a much better idea. Bring me back something, boys, cuz you have my nuts in a vice, and if I get squeezed, ya’ll can count on getting your nuts squeezed even harder and longer. Got it?”
Yeah, they got it all right. They knew if it didn’t go right, they could both be in a regular squad car, wearing blues, and handing out traffic tickets to pimply-faced teenagers.
. . .
“Why do people want to live way out here, you think? I mean, there’s nothing, and I do mean nothing, that could get me away from convenience and the city.”
“Some folks like living out in the sticks, Lucky, but I have to agree, I ain’t one of ‘em. You know I thought about calling them, saving us a trip, but I like the element of surprise.”
“I’m betting from what you already told me, they think you’re done with them.”
“Not by a long shot, partner, not by a long shot.”
Jack’s truck kicked up the dust as they drove on the county road to Jenna Berrie’s house. Jack pointed out the old truck where he needed to turn left, and Lucky chortled. “That’s a crazy ass landmark. If they ever move that jalopy, then what, a large rock marks the spot?”
Stepping out of the truck, game faces on, they needed some answers.
Jenna Berrie opened the door, and a look of surprise crossed her face.
“You out here again, I already told you everything the last time you were here.” She crossed her arms and scrunched her face, annoyed that he had returned.
“Ms. Berrie, this is my partner, Detective Dawson Luck. I’ve got some other information I would like to share with you. Then we’re going to go over the information you gave me last time.”
“Look, Detective, all I am going to do is repeat what I already told you. How will that help you?” she whined.
“Ms. Berrie, we can talk here, or we can talk at the station, your choice. You and Mr. Renner are both persons of interest in an unsolved homicide. If I have to, I’ll see what legal action I can take to get you both to the police station. Do I make myself clear?”
She let out an exasperating sigh. “Fine, then, come in, but I don’t want it to take all day.”
Jack walked in behind her and looked around. “Is Mr. Renner here?”
“Yeah,” she huffed out, “he’s out back in the shed. I’ll go get him.” With that, she scuttled out of the room.
“The fear of God crept into her face when you said legal action,” Luck stated as he looked around the small manufactured home.
The back door squeaked as it opened up and Jenna came through the other room, Max behind her.
“Jenna tells me you detectives want to talk to us.” He was wiping grease from his hands. “I got a motor repair I’m doing out back, gotta get it done today.”
Dawson Luck took the big bald man in. He was tall, barrel-chested with a snake tattoo wrapped around his neck that looked like it was crawling upward and ready to strike at any moment.
“Mind if we sit?” Jack took a seat before Max answered.
“Since you already sat I reckon that’s fine by me. Now, what’s this about?” He stuffed the greasy rag in his back pocket and folded his arms over his massive chest.
Jack pointed to the love seat across from where he sat. “Get comfortable, both of you, because the four of us are gonna have a little chat.”
Jenna gave Max a sideways glance that Jack didn’t miss as she walked to the love seat. “Come on, Sarge.”
Max sat beside Jenna, filling up the rest of the love seat with his big body, crossed his arms, and looked straight at Jack without blinking.
“So, we’re sitting, you gonna tell us why you’re here?”
Jack took a small tape recorder out of his breast pocket and sat it on the coffee table in front of him.
“I am sure Jenna told you about my last visit here, would that be correct, Mr. Renner?”
“Yes, she did, and I would prefer if you would call me Sarge, I don’t go by Max unless it is official. Is this official, Detective West?”
“Yeah, it’s an official call, Mr. Renner. I want ya’ll to listen to the tape of the interview I had with Daphne Walden. I think you’ll find it very interesting and informative.”
Jack looked up at Jenna and her face had turned ashen white. She fumbled in her back pocket for her cigarettes. Taking the pack, she tried to tap one out, and it broke.
“Oh hell.” She sighed in exasperation.
Sarge took the pack away from her, tapped one out, and then he helped her light it.
“I would ask you both if you minded if Jenna here smokes, but it’s my house, and I say she can.” He looked at Dawson Luck. “Open that front door, it’ll keep the smoke from filling up the room.”
Lucky obliged, opened the door, and remained standing. He had unhooked the strap on his Glock once he saw Sarge. He didn’t generally profile, but his gut said to keep an eye on this big tatted biker dude.
Jack took the copy of the tape and put it in the cassette player.
“After you’ve both heard the tape, we’re going to talk, here or at the station, like I told Ms. Berrie, that’s up to the both of you.”
“Okay by us, we have nothing to hide.”
Jack doubted that, he doubted that very much as he hit play and the voice of Daphne Walden came alive in their living room.
. . .
The cassette player stopped, and Jack looked at Jenna.
“Okay, Ms. Berrie, let’s start over. First off, you were one of the ‘girls’ back then, and if what Daphne says, you were more than a casual acquaintance of Celeste Mason, is that correct?”
She took another drag of her third cigarette. “Uh-huh,” she scarcely whispered.
“You knew JoAnn. You, her, and Daphne were close friends, is that correct?”
“I was close to Daphne, not so much with Jo.” Her voice trembled and she took a long drag on her cigarette.
“Then tell me, why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie, I mean, I knew her because she ran the girls, but I wasn’t close to her, no one was. I don’t want to be involved anymore, that’s all, can’t you let her rest in peace?”
“Even if that were something we could do, what about JoAnn, she was one of the girls too. How about her, Jenna, no one has seen her for over twenty-five years, we just let that rest in peace too?”
A single tear slipped off her cheek, and Sarge took her hand.
“Look, she feels bad enough that she had to lie to you. I wanted her to forget that part of her life, you know? Now here you come and dredge all this shit up, she’s a nervous wreck, look at her.”
“And you, Max, you were an enforcer, following orders, is that right? So, what orders did you get, help kill off the whore and cover it up? Were you the one who shot those men on Richmond Avenue? I know you know, and I will find out.” Jack stood up aggressively, his words said harshly. He was giving it a shot, trying to goad him into saying something.
“Hey, I had nothing to do with that shooting, Scot…” Max clamped his mouth shut.
“Was it Scottie Buccella that shot the attorney Roger Stockard and the man called Archie Bowers?” Luck decided to jump in.
“Even if it was, and you were able to prove it, what good would it do? I’m sure you know all about Scottie if you’ve been digging and you know he’s dead,” Max spat out in anger.
“Okay, then, Jenna, let’s see what we have here. You lied about knowing Celeste as more than a mere acquaintance. I am betting you know more than you are telling me, and I want to know what you are hiding. If I don’t get some answers here, then we can all go downtown and discuss it, all night long, if that is what it takes.” Jack slapped the top of the coffee table, and Jenna jumped.