The Devil's Muse
Page 12
He spoke as calmly as he had at any point that night, as if Maureen was the one with the two-hundred-pound frame and the violent temper. The change in tone was so profound it made Maureen suspicious of his motives. She checked to see if they were being filmed. Didn’t appear so. The crew seemed oddly distracted, in fact. Laine stood away from the rest of them, thumbing her phone. Here was the big arrest after the shooting, and they’d let themselves be bullied out of filming it.
Granted, the bust lacked for drama, but wasn’t this moment what they’d hopped on the bandwagon hoping to capture? “This detention-without-arrest order comes from Hardin?”
“Not directly,” Morello said. “I didn’t consult him on it. That’s not really a necessary step. He knows what’s up.”
“Does he know we caught this kid or does he think we’re chasing him around the neighborhood?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Morello said. “This isn’t Hardin’s call.”
“But it’s yours?”
“Not technically. But I am senior officer on the scene.”
“Until Drayton gets here,” Maureen said. “You’re telling me that Drayton doesn’t want him arrested, either?”
“Why don’t you turn the suspect over to me?” Morello asked. “I can handle it from here. You can step out of it. Go back to the route. It might be quite a while before Drayton gets here.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that. Maybe I’ll wait for Drayton, too.”
“Everybody knows you and Drayton don’t like each other,” Morello said. “Let me save you the trouble of dealing with him.”
“I know y’all is doin’ me dirty,” Goody said. He started yelling to the woman in the house that he was getting killed. “Lady! Hey, lady in that house. They gonna do me! They gonna do me out here!”
“I’m gonna punch you in the fucking head,” Morello said, as calmly as he spoke to Maureen. “That’s what I’m gonna fucking do.”
“You don’t shut up,” Maureen said, shaking Goody by the cuffs, “and I’ll feed you to him. You’ll be wishing for the dogs.” She grabbed the kid by the arm, turned him to face her. “I know your name. I know the kind of shit you get up to. No more of this robbery bullshit. No more fairy tales. What are you doing out tonight?”
“Fucking Mardi Gras,” Goody said, shrugging as best he could. “Same as everyone else. Everybody out tonight.”
“Why’d you shoot that guy?”
Goody laughed at her. “I didn’t shoot nobody, and can’t nobody prove I did.”
He’d been emboldened, Maureen could tell, by the dissent over how to handle him. She wanted to ask him why he’d run to that house on Harmony Street, but doing so would give away that the girl had called the cops on him, and then pointed Maureen in the right direction after he’d run from her and her brother.
“Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me,” she said to him. She wasn’t going to argue with Morello in front of a suspect. She had to give way to him, but she didn’t have to give Morello exactly what he wanted. She called Cordts over to her.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked him. “Take Mr. Curtis to one of the units, please. Hook him up in the backseat and stay with him there until we can all get on the same page about how to process him.”
Morello set his hands on his hips and stared down at the sidewalk, but he didn’t interfere as Cordts led the suspect away. “You need to hear me on this, Coughlin. You really do. We have a certain way of handling things like this.”
“You need to hear me,” Maureen said. “This kid is young but he’s dangerous. I know him. If we have a chance to get him off the streets, out of the life he’s living, we have to make sure that happens. He can’t walk free later because the PD finds out you beat information out of him.”
Morello laughed at her, disgusted and dismissive. “This thinking you know everything about everybody, that you got it all figured. It’s going to hurt you. It already is.”
“Cogs, you need to help me deal with this other thing back on the avenue,” Wilburn said, rocking on his heels. “Time is of the essence. Let Cordts and Morello handle things here.”
“Going by what you told me,” Maureen said, “time is the one thing we do have. Now with this case here, there may be other shooting targets on the route, questioning this kid here is where the clock is ticking. We don’t have time to waste waiting for Drayton.”
“Do yourself a favor, Coughlin,” Morello said. “Go with Wilburn.”
“You misunderstand me, Cogs,” Wilburn said.
“Contrary to your previous sarcasm,” Maureen said to him, “I understand ‘dead’ just fine.”
“The dead guy is not who I’m worried about,” Wilburn said.
“Who’s dead?” Morello asked.
“Nobody,” Maureen said. Shit, she thought, lowering her head, listen to me. I don’t know who he was, but he wasn’t nobody. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t involve the shooting.”
“That’s easy,” Morello said. “Peace out. I got work to do. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
He limped away in the direction of the NOPD Explorer at the end of the block where Goody now sat in the backseat, his hands cuffed behind his back, one leg inside the car, one leg hanging loose out the open door. Cordts stood beside him, ignoring him, arms crossed, leaning on the car, smoking a cigarette and staring up at the sky. Let it go, Maureen thought. Whatever Morello is up to, let him do it. Let it go. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t let him poach her bust like this. She ran after him.
“Morello, c’mon, it’s my collar,” she said, walking alongside him. “Make sure Drayton knows that.”
“We both know he doesn’t give a fuck,” Morello said. “We know, your fellow officers of the Sixth District. What do you care about Drayton? You’re done here, Coughlin. Be glad, the fun part of this case is over. It’s nothing but bullshit from here.”
Morello kept walking, turning away from her, using his huge shoulders to block her out. Had she the size of Morello, Maureen thought, or Hardin, she could plant herself between him and the car and let things play out like they would between men. Instead, here she was wheedling, nagging, nipping at his heels like an attention-starved puppy … at least his limp let her chase him at a quick walk.
“I want to talk to him,” she said. “A couple more questions. Drayton won’t ask the right ones, the ones that’ll help us tonight. We both know that.”
Morello stopped, and despite the pressure it put on his knee, rose to his full height in front of Maureen, stepping fully into the big-dog role. “The detective will question the suspect any way he sees fit.”
“But it’s Drayton. He’ll blow it. You know he will.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Morello said.
Maureen decided to try a different tactic. “Look, I know this kid. That’s to our advantage.”
“I don’t know about that,” Morello said. “He doesn’t like you very much. He hasn’t been very receptive to your previous inquisitions. I think your work here is done. Leave Goody with me”—he leaned close to her—“and go someplace else. Trust me on this. I’m actually looking out for you here.”
“You can’t knock him around,” Maureen said, taking a step closer to Morello. “Just because of what happened to your knee. We need that kid.”
“Smarten up,” Morello said. “I heard you were better than this. You don’t trust me, fine. I’ll let the insult pass. I’m nice like that. Cordts is here with me. You trust him. For the last time, leave Goody here with me and go about your business. Maybe, just maybe, the rest of us know what we’re doing.”
He turned from her again and walked away. Maureen watched him, her face burning, feeling as if something important had eluded her, or had been hidden from her.
19
From Wilburn, over her shoulder, “Coughlin, can we go now? We need to deal with this.”
“Yeah, yeah. Morello can’t get rid of me fast enough, anyway.”
“And you want to know w
hy,” Wilburn said. “I understood that, but forget it. We got other problems.”
“That’s the message I’m getting.” Maureen checked on the camera crew. They were collecting their gear, looking ready to get on the move again. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Morello told them earlier they have to split,” Wilburn said.
“They can’t come with us,” Maureen said. “They can’t. We can’t let them know about this. We don’t want them shooting video of a dead body on the parade route.”
“Coughlin, they’re the ones who found him,” Wilburn said. “Well, Donna did. Remember when she left the bar, went back down to the route? There were twenty people standing around him, she said. She called Laine and Laine told me. I went down there with them to check it out. It’s true.”
“You let them film a fucking corpse in the middle of St. Charles Avenue?” Maureen asked. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I had to control the scene, protect the body,” Wilburn said. “I couldn’t control the camera crew at the same time. You and Cordts were here, dealing with this. Our area of the route has been unmanned since the shooting.”
“There were no other cops on the route nearby?”
“Not close enough to help me immediately,” Wilburn said. “I didn’t want to broadcast it over the radio and across the route, you know? That I was babysitting a dead body? That there was a dead body on the route. I’m not sure how many people really believed he was dead. I saw no reason to convince anybody.”
“But Hardin knows about it, I take it.”
“It was Hardin who sent me here to get you,” Wilburn said. “He knows you were the last person to handle that kid. He wants to talk to you about it. He’s trying to keep everything quiet as possible, and he wanted me to warn you about what you’re walking into.”
“Me and Cordts, together,” Maureen said. “The two of us. We tried to move him out of the road, then the gunshots went off. He was alive when we left him. I saw him breathing. Holy shit, I can’t believe Hardin is going to put this on us. Wait, warn me about what?”
“I’m sure that kid was alive when you left him,” Wilburn said. “I am. But that’s not what people are saying. People are saying you tased him to get him off the car and did nothing for him after that. That you stood around telling jokes. They say there’s video of it.”
Maureen’s jaw dropped open. “I did no such thing. There can’t be video because none of it happened. It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s what people are saying,” Wilburn said.
“What people?”
“The people on the route,” Wilburn said. “The people Donna talked to.”
“Goddamn it, Wils! Why is she talking to anybody other than us about a dead body?” She started pacing in circles. Maureen couldn’t believe the pink-tights kid had died. What had he been on? What had she missed? She couldn’t think. “Can’t we get control of anything out here?”
“It’s Mardi Gras,” Wilburn said. He threw his hands in the air, waved his arms in the direction of St. Charles. “It’s the parade route. What do you want me to do? Donna found him. We’re lucky she told Laine instead of walking away. Who knows when, and how, we would’ve found out then. We’re lucky Laine did us the courtesy of telling me as soon as she heard.”
“Remind me to get Laine a medal,” Maureen said, “for telling the cops about a dead body in the street before putting it on her TV show.”
“Actually, it’s a Web-based series,” Donna said, walking over.
Maureen screamed at her. “I don’t fucking care!”
“This,” Donna said, backing away. “This right here? This is why nobody likes the police. You try to help and this is what you get.”
“Look, now you know what people are saying,” Wilburn said. “That’ll help. You can think about what you want to say to Hardin in response. Maybe you can get out ahead of it, as much as you can.”
“Get out ahead of it?” Maureen asked. “Get out ahead of it? A kid wearing nothing but zebra-print tights, slathered in cotton candy, dies in the middle of the parade route, and people think I killed him? How does one get out ahead of that?” She could hear the hysteria ringing in her own voice. She sounded crazed. She realized the camera’s spotlight was on her. Maureen raised her hand, pointing into the light but staring at her feet, trying to hide her face, like that mattered now. She was not handling her first Mardi Gras very well.
“I swear to Christ,” she said, “if you are filming this I will fucking kill you.” The light stayed on. Maureen didn’t move; she kept her feet planted where they were, for fear that if she even flinched she’d lose control of herself and attack Cortez. “I will beat you to death with that fucking camera.” She pointed at Larry. “You don’t wanna know what happens to the microphone. You don’t.”
“Cortez,” she heard Laine say, “lower the camera. Kill it.” And the light went out. “Larry, you, too.”
“Thank you,” Maureen said. “I appreciate that.” She realized she was sweating, breathing heavily. She waited a long moment before she spoke again, not looking at anyone. “You can delete that last bit, right?”
“We edit,” Laine said, “before we post anything.”
Maureen heard something come over Wilburn’s radio that he greeted with “Oh, shit.”
“What?” she asked. “What now?”
Next came a loud cackle from a block away that she knew could only be from Morello. Why was everything that happened to her so hilarious to him? She turned to see him hobbling her way, a big smile on his face. “Coughlin! Holy shit. You are in some trouble now.”
She turned to Wilburn. “What is it?”
“You didn’t hear that? The, uh, the secret is out, I guess.”
Maureen checked her radio. She hadn’t turned it back up after turning the volume down to listen for the kid in the street before the foot chase. That chase felt like it had happened three nights ago. “Mine was off. Damn it.”
Morello limped closer. He was shaking his head, chuckling to himself. “I just got a text from one of the guys on the route. You tased some drunk homeless guy on the route and left him there? You’re never boring, Cogs, I’ll give you that. Holy shit.”
“So much for getting out ahead of it,” Maureen said.
“And then he dies?” Morello said, laughing. “You have the worst fucking luck.”
“Who is saying these things?” Maureen asked. “None of that happened.”
“Hardin is waiting for you on the parade route now,” Wilburn said, “with the body and the EMTs. You need to go to him. I think they’re picking it up now. I guess they didn’t want to bring the coroner’s truck to the parade route. Makes sense.”
“I guess not,” Maureen said. She hitched up her gun belt, rage and frustration burning in her chest. She adjusted her knit cap. “Guess I’ll go see my sergeant, then. Back to the route it is.” She turned to Wilburn. “Give me a head start before you follow with these guys and that goddamn camera? Please? And check in on Cordts before you go, will you? I’m worried about him.”
“You should really get going,” Wilburn said. “Hardin doesn’t like waiting around.”
Without another word, Maureen headed off down the street, toward the lights and noise and chaos of the parade route. She could hear Morello yelling at her as she walked away. She could hear the amusement in his voice. Please don’t ever let me be like that, she thought. A shooting, a death on the parade route, chaos everywhere, and he struts and laughs at everything around him like none of it means a thing to him, like none of it touches him. Please, she thought, don’t ever let me be like that.
“Wait, wait a minute, Coughlin,” Morello shouted. “I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.” He raised his camera phone. “Let me get one last good look at you before you go.” He snapped a picture. “Happy fucking Mardi Gras.”
20
Maureen walked back toward Hardin on the open side of St. Charles, brooding about what she would tell him.
For the life of her, she couldn’t recall any indication that would’ve shown the kid was in mortal danger. She had trusted her training as a police officer, and she’d trusted her real life experience from before she was a cop. She had witnessed ODs before, fatal and not, both as a cop and as a civilian. Sure she was tired and impatient from being overworked during Mardi Gras, but not enough to overlook signs the kid was about to die. Sure, the kid had been very, very high. Lots of people, in fact, most people who got really fucking high didn’t die. It nagged at her, too, that she hadn’t pegged what drugs he’d been on. She knew her street drugs, again from both her previous civilian career as a cocktail waitress and her current career in the police department. If she’d been able to suss out what the kid had taken, maybe she would’ve known he was in grave danger. Maybe they would’ve acted differently before the gunshots, insisted on EMTs coming to help.
Cordts hadn’t predicted a dire outcome for the kid, either. Not that she was looking to shift blame, but he had six years on the job. She could claim deference to his experience, if that wasn’t too much like throwing him under the bus. Cordts had a good rep in the district as a solid guy. He was goofy to the point of being annoying sometimes, but he was not a fuckup by any stretch. She’d heard nothing but good things about him. His backing up her story would carry weight with Hardin. That was a positive. She hoped Cordts would remember things the way she did. Who could tell what he was going to say, though, the way he’d started acting since the shooting? Maybe having Goody in cuffs would calm him down. Maureen hoped so. His support might turn out to be the sum total of good things she had going for her right now, especially if civilians were making statements. As much as the police relied on witnesses, like they were doing tonight with the shooting, civilians were unreliable. Not only did they completely miss shit that happened right in front of them, but more than half the time they saw things that had never happened.