by Steven Henry
Three Hispanic women were folding sheets and talking to each other in Spanish. They didn’t notice the new arrivals at first. As Vic and Erin got closer, they saw two of the women were older, probably mid-forties, and the other was very young.
“Excuse me,” Erin said.
All three women fell abruptly silent. They looked at Erin without much interest, but Vic seemed to alarm them. Maybe it was his size and broken-up face, but Erin had the feeling it was mostly that he was male. Something about the way they stared at him made her realize just how out-of-place he was.
“We’re looking for Josefina Molina,” Erin said.
The three women continued to stare without speaking. Maybe they didn’t speak English. Maybe they were choosing not to understand English. Their faces were unreadable.
“Hey, Vic?” she said quietly. “Why don’t you wait outside?”
He started to say something indignant. Then he saw the meaningful look she was giving him. He nodded, turned, and left the room.
The tension eased slightly. “You are lost, no?” one of the older women asked Erin in heavily-accented English. “You looking for bathroom?”
“Josefina Molina,” Erin repeated.
The other older woman stepped forward, pushing gently but decisively past her two companions. Erin realized they’d been shielding her.
“What do you want?” Josefina asked. She was a stout, sturdy woman with a face and hands lined with a lifetime of work. Her skin was slightly wrinkled but as tough as boot leather. Her eyes were very dark, very sharp, and very intelligent.
“Ma’am, my name is Erin O’Reilly. I’m a detective with the New York Police Department. And I think you know why I’m here.”
Josefina nodded slowly. “Yes. I will come with you. Un momento, por favor.”
Erin watched Josefina as the housekeeper turned and spoke to the two other laundresses. Erin was ready for trouble. Sometimes perps would act quiet right up to the last moment, then fight or run for it. Josefina didn’t look like she meant to resist, but you could never tell.
The conversation was short, just a few sentences. Then Josefina turned back to face her. “I am ready.” She put out her hands, wrists close together, ready for the handcuffs.
“That won’t be necessary right now,” Erin said. “We need to talk to you. Is there a place we can go, somewhere quiet?”
Josefina seemed startled, but nodded. “Yes, we have a room there.” She pointed over her shoulder.
Erin cracked the laundry door. “Vic, c’mon,” she said. He and Rolf followed the women through the laundry to the back, where a door opened onto a small break room. It had a card table and some folding chairs, an ancient television set, and an old couch that could have been the twin of the disreputable sofa in the Major Crimes break room.
“Whoa,” Vic said. “I haven’t seen rabbit ears on a TV in years. Does that thing still work?”
Josefina and Erin ignored him. The housekeeper pointed to one of the chairs for Erin and sat down opposite her.
“We caught him,” Erin said. “The guy who killed the girl upstairs.”
Josefina’s face didn’t change at all.
“And Caldwell, the security guy,” she went on. “We know all about him. We’ve got him in custody. We know what happened.” She paused. “All of it.”
Josefina didn’t blink.
“Ma’am,” Erin said. “We know you took Sarah Devers out of Room 503. Why did you put her in the aquarium?”
“Señor Caldwell told me to clean up the mess,” Josefina said. “He told me, clean up the room, take the chica away. He said if I did not do this, he would call Immigration. He told me to take the chica and put her somewhere no one would know what had happened to her.”
“Did he tell you to put her in the fish tank?”
“No. I did that.”
“Why?”
Josefina’s eyes flashed. “It was not right, what happened to her. I am glad you caught them, these bad men. I thought, if I put her in one of the other rooms, maybe the wrong person would be punished. So I put her where I knew she would be found quickly. I hoped you would learn what had happened.”
“But you could have just told us,” Erin said.
“I could not have you know I was the one,” Josefina said. “For my family, I did this. But if Señor Caldwell is in jail, then everything is all right. You do what you want with me. Send me back to Mexico, it is all right now.”
“I don’t understand,” Erin said. “If you were worried about being deported, why are you okay with it now?”
“You do not understand, señora. He did not threaten to send me back. I will do all you ask, only do nothing to Rosa.”
“Rosa?” Vic exclaimed. “Rosa Hernandez? The maid? What’s she got to do with any of this?”
“I wanted to come to this country many years ago,” Josefina said. “My husband was already across the border, working here. But he could not get permission to bring me. I was going to have a baby soon. I knew if I had the baby in America, then my child would be American and could not be deported. But on the way, before I could cross over, it was my time. I had my baby in a dry river. I was bleeding. I thought I would die. There was a man with us, a kind man. I begged him to take my child to my husband, so she would not die with me. He took her. His name was Jose Hernandez.”
“Hernandez,” Erin repeated.
“A ranchero found me that night. He took me to hospital in Mexico. I was sick for a long time. When I got better, I wrote to my husband, telling him what had happened.”
Josefina looked down at her hands. “He never answered.”
“Did you find out what happened to him?” Erin asked.
She nodded. “He was struck by a car. A driver who had been drinking. He never saw his daughter, never knew he had a child.”
“So how did you end up here?” Vic asked.
“It was another year before I could save the money to pay a coyote to take me across the border,” Josefina said, using the slang term for someone who smuggled immigrants. “He took me to El Paso. From there, I tried to find my daughter.”
She laughed quietly, bitterly. “Jose Hernandez is a common name. A very common name. But I asked and asked, and I found someone who remembered a man with a newborn baby. I followed him. Six months, I followed, all the way to New York City. And there I found him. And I found my Rosa.”
“What did you do when you found her?” Erin asked, thinking this woman would have made a good detective.
“She was almost two years old,” Josefina said. “I had no papers, no family, no life. Jose had a wife and two other children. Rosa was happy, she thought he was her papa. I spoke with Jose, I told him I would be no trouble, I would take her if he did not want her, but I would not fight him.
“Jose is a good man. He loves my Rosa as his own. She thinks of him as her papa. I am a friend, nothing more. I watched my Rosa grow up an American girl, but she has no birth certificate. She was born in Mexico, on the wrong side of the border.
“I do not know how Señor Caldwell learned of her situation.”
“No secrets in this damn place,” Vic muttered. “Somebody always sees.”
Josefina nodded. “He told me he would make sure Rosa was taken away from the only life she has known, from everyone who loved her. I could not let this happen, so I said I would do what he asked. But I am glad you have caught him. If you had not,” her eyes flashed again, “I would have made sure he could not hurt my Rosa.”
Erin held up a hand. “Don’t say anything about that,” she warned. “So you went along with Caldwell under coercion? He threatened your child?”
Josefina nodded.
“And Rosa doesn’t know anything about this?”
“No. I wish she had not seen the chica in the water. I am sorry.”
“You understand we can’t charge him with what he threatened to do,” Erin said. “Not without bringing Miss Hernandez into this and endangering her status.”
�
��I understand.”
“Erin,” Vic said in an undertone. “We can’t throw this lady out of the country over this. I’m not gonna do it.”
“Neither am I,” she replied. “And I don’t think ICE has to hear anything about it. All we need to hear is that Ms. Molina was threatened by Caldwell and deliberately left the body where we’d find it. She’s cooperating with our investigation. I’ll recommend we not file any charges against her.”
Josefina seemed stunned. “You are not sending me back to Mexico?”
“Ma’am,” Erin said. “You went through more for your kid than anybody I know. You’re maybe the only person in this mess who tried to do the right thing. I’m not going to be the one to punish you for it.”
“Me, neither,” Vic added.
“Gracias, señora,” Josefina said.
“You’ll need to come down to the station and make an official statement,” Erin said. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“You may want to think a little about what you’re gonna say,” Vic added. “There’s some stuff in there you might wanna leave out.”
“What my partner is saying,” Erin said, “is that you only need to put what’s relevant to the murder in your statement. No point adding a lot of other stuff that’ll only take up space and confuse people. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Josefina said. “And I understand you are a good woman. And you are a good man,” she added, turning to Vic.
“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Vic said.
“I will pray for both of you,” she said.
“Thanks,” Erin said. “We can use it.”
Chapter 17
By the time Erin finally left the Eightball, she felt like she’d worked two straight shifts back to back. Mathematically, that was true. She and Vic had turned up at the station around nine that morning. Now, after Josefina’s statement and all the arrest reports, incident reports, and associated paperwork, they’d been on the clock better than fifteen hours. She needed a drink, and then she needed to go home and get some sleep. Fortunately, those goals were now more compatible than ever.
Bleary-eyed and stiff, she loaded Rolf into the Charger and drove to the Barley Corner. She pulled into the parking garage two storefronts down from the pub. The parking attendant nodded politely to her when she pulled in. She recognized one of Carlyle’s guys. Of course they ran the parking garage. A man who’d built car bombs for the IRA wasn’t about to leave his ride in the care of some random minimum-wage teenager. She parked in one of the spots reserved for the Corner, next to an empty space where Carlyle’s gray Mercedes usually sat. He could be almost anywhere. Mob guys did most of their business after sundown. The annoying thing was, he ought to be home recuperating.
Erin gave Rolf a quick turn around the block so he could piss on a couple of lampposts. Then she walked into the bar. There was no secrecy to it, no reason to hide. Half the New York underworld probably knew by now that she’d taken up residence.
“Hey, Erin! How’s it going?”
“How’s the bad-ass bitch?”
“It’s the finest of New York’s finest! C’mon in!”
The calls that met her were raucous and a little offensive, but friendly. Erin realized, as she walked across the room, that these guys, blue-collar criminals, compulsive gamblers, drunks, and thugs, had adopted her as one of their own. She’d gotten in because she was Carlyle’s girl, but something in the way they spoke to her now suggested she was standing on her own merits.
As she approached the bar, a big, burly guy with hairy arms and a bushy beard stood up, making room for her. He clapped her on the shoulder with a grin.
“I know you?” she asked.
“Robbie Exley,” he said, seeming pleased she’d asked. “The boys call me Express. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Thanks, Express,” she said, returning the smile. “But I don’t pay for drinks here.”
“Hell, I know that,” he said. “Everybody knows that. I just wanna say thanks.”
“What for?” Erin was suddenly wary, but Exley’s face was friendly, in spite of a nasty scar on his left cheek, and his hands were open and empty.
“Wayne’s a good buddy. I hear you kept the Staties from screwing him.”
Then she understood. The nickname, the connection with Wayne, his presence in this bar all came together. Exley was a Teamster, another of Corky’s guys and probably a smuggler. Word had gotten around.
“Forget about it,” she said. “Just making sure everybody got where they needed to go.”
“You’re all right,” Exley said. “You ever need something, just ask for Express.”
He shambled off to join some other guys by the dart board. Erin watched him go and smiled quizzically. The enhancement to her underworld reputation felt good, but she knew it shouldn’t. She’d have to get used to those conflicting feelings, just like she’d have to get used to being a minor celebrity with these guys.
“Evening, Erin!” the bartender said. “What can I get you?”
“Usual, Danny.”
“Single or double?”
“I’m at the end of a double shift. What do you think?”
“Coming right up,” he said with a smile. He pulled down a bottle of Glen D whiskey and a glass. He poured a stiff double shot and slid it across the bar.
Erin picked up the glass and raised it to her lips.
Then she saw the woman at the far end of the bar. Erin choked on the whiskey. The liquor shot up the back of her nasal passage, leaving trails of liquid fire. She bent over the bar, coughing.
Danny was instantly there. “Hey, you all right?” he asked, putting a hand on her upper back.
Erin nodded and wiped at her streaming eyes. “Yeah,” she croaked.
“You sure?”
“Just had a little go down the wrong way.” Once her eyes had cleared, she looked again, making sure she hadn’t imagined what she’d seen.
A tall, dark-haired woman with striking good looks was sitting at the bar, sipping a cocktail. A familiar tall, dark-haired woman. A couple of patrons were talking her up, obviously flirting. She was smiling and laughing at something one of them had said.
Erin set her half-empty glass on the bar and stalked toward the woman. Rolf paced beside her. He’d picked up on the sudden change in her energy. His hackles were rising and his walk was tense and stiff-legged. He smelled trouble.
The man on the woman’s left said something else, some joke or other, and put a hand on the back of her wrist. The woman, still laughing, playfully swatted at the hand but didn’t really try to shoo him off.
Erin came up on the man’s blind side. “Take a hike, buddy,” she said in a low, hard voice.
“What’s it to you?” he shot back, hardly turning away from his target.
“She’s my sister-in-law,” Erin growled. “Get your hand off her before I break it.”
“Erin?” Michelle O’Reilly said, surprised but still smiling. “Hi! Have a seat!”
Erin looked down at Michelle’s arm. The guy was still resting his hand there. She reached across and grabbed the back of his hand. She pulled and twisted it sharply clockwise, stepping back from the bar as she did.
It was a simple, basic move that didn’t require much strength. Leverage and momentum did most of the work. The man, a big strong-looking guy, went off his bar stool with a squawk of surprise. He managed to catch himself on his knees, his arm splayed uncomfortably out in front of him.
Erin put a little more pressure on the hand, bending it back toward his wrist.
“I said, get your hand off her,” she said.
A space suddenly cleared around them, patrons hurriedly backing away. Dead silence fell, broken only by the television.
The man’s friend was coming around behind Michelle, apparently intending to offer some assistance. He stopped short when he saw who was holding the guy. Or maybe it was the ninety-pound K-9 at her side, hair bristling, a low growl rising in the dog’s chest.
“Beat it, numbnuts,” said a gravelly voice behind Erin. It sounded like Express. Erin risked a quick glance over her shoulder and saw half a dozen guys backing her up. The trucker was holding a beer bottle by the neck in an ambiguously threatening grip.
“This isn’t your problem,” she said. “We’ve got no problem at all, isn’t that right?”
The man whose arm she was holding nodded, suddenly very eager to please. “No problem.”
“You were apologizing to the lady,” Erin prompted.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he babbled. “I didn’t mean no disrespect.”
“And you were leaving,” she went on, adding a little more pressure.
He nodded more frantically. Erin let go and pushed. He flailed and almost fell over. Then he scrambled to his feet and fled the bar, his comrade right on his heels.
Exley shrugged and gave Erin a smile. “Hey,” he said. “It didn’t look like a private fight. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. You had it covered.”
“Erin! What are you doing?” Michelle exclaimed. Her face was a combination of stunned surprise and outrage.
“What the hell are you doing here, Shelley?” Erin hissed, leaning in close and speaking in a fierce whisper. “This is a dangerous place!”
“Your mom was here,” Michelle protested. “How bad could it be?”
“You don’t know these guys!”
“You live here!”
“Yeah, and you don’t! Does Junior know where you are?”
Anger was rapidly eclipsing surprise in Michelle’s face. “I don’t ask him where he is all the time,” she snapped. “And it’s frankly none of your business.”
“He’s my brother!”
“And he’s my husband!”
“I’m guessing he’s working a night shift?” Erin said. “While you’re here at a bar, flirting with strangers?”