Athena Sisterhood

by Dharma Kelleher

  Time to do a little research on Ms. Zia Pearson, Shea thought as she returned to the office.

  “Was that Indigo I saw come in?” asked Terrance.

  “You know her?”

  His smiled faded, replaced by a look of embarrassment. “Yeah, I, uh, saw her at Bike Night.”

  Shea narrowed her gaze at him, smelling a lie. He was usually a straightforward guy, so when he wasn’t, Shea knew it. “Why you got a weird look on your face, T?”

  “What do you mean?” He stared at his computer.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re a goddamn liar, Terrance Douglas. What the fuck’s going on? You two used to date or something?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Well, there’s something not right about that girl.”

  “What do you mean?” Terrance looked up from the computer.

  “I think she’s the one dealing the tainted hex and getting all these people killed.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She’d never do anything like that.”

  “Okay, then what aren’t you telling me?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”

  “Since when do you keep secrets?”

  “Shea, trust me. She’s not the one you’re looking for. She’s a good person.”

  Shea grimaced, unconvinced. “Fine. If you say so.”

  Shea typed Indigo’s real name, Zia Pearson, into her browser. The first few hits were some Facebook pages and LinkedIn accounts. She clicked on each of the links, but found that the accounts didn’t belong to Indigo. “Seems our girl is keeping a low profile online.”

  She did a news search for the name and came across a headline that read PHOENIX BILL COLLECTOR ARRESTED. She clicked on the link, but the news site only provided a teaser that revealed nothing other than the suggestion that Indigo had been arrested several months back. To read the article, she would have to become a paid subscriber. “Shit. Damn paywall.”

  “Are you Googling Indigo?” Terrance glared at her. “Leave the poor woman alone.”

  “Fine.” Shea shoved her keyboard aside. “I’m gonna go work on the Stansbury bike.”

  “How’s it coming along?”

  Shea rolled her eyes. “We’ve got the frame done. I’m working on the tank. Kyle’s working on the fenders. Still gotta do the front end, handlebars, and oil pan, and then send the whole thing to paint.”

  “We need to move faster if we’re going to meet our rush deadline. Maybe if you spent more time here working on the bike and less time screwing around with the Athena Sisterhood.”

  “Oh please, the Sisterhood is our target market. If you were hanging out with them, you’d call it marketing or public relations or some such nonsense.”

  “Nevertheless, you miss our deadline, it’s going to cost us money.”

  “All right, T! Geez! I get your point.” Shea stood. “Everybody fucking wants something from me.”

  “Life’s tough sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s only so much Shea awesomeness to go around.”

  She left the office, walked through the service bay without so much as a look at the Stansbury bike, and stepped out the back door to make a phone call.

  “Detective Rios. How can I help you?”

  “Hey, it’s Shea. I wanted to let you know that I got voted in as a prospect with the Athena Sisterhood. And I think I may know who’s dealing the tainted hex.”

  “I don’t want a repeat of our raid on the Confederate Thunder’s cabin. I need solid proof if I’m going to get a warrant.”

  “I know. I’m working on that.” Her call waiting beeped in her ear. “I gotta go. I’ll call you when I got something.”

  Shea clicked over to the other call. “Yeah?”

  “Shea-Shea, we gotta talk.”

  A big grin broke out across her face. “Hello, Monster. Screw any cute boys lately?”

  “Where the hell’d you get that photo?”

  “Snapped it last night when you and that guy were making out.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “Bullshit. I saw you clear as day. Walked right past ya. Woulda stopped and said ‘Hey,’ but you seemed a little busy giving your boyfriend a tonsillectomy.”

  Monster was silent for a moment. “All right, look. It was a onetime thing. I ain’t no faggot.”

  “Whatever you say. I’m a dyke, so it ain’t like I care either way. But your buddies in the Thunder might. And we both know this wasn’t no onetime thing.”

  “Look, I can’t talk right now, but you and me, we need to come to some terms.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say. Nice job, by the way, framing me for killing Gator.”

  “Come by the house tomorrow night. Julia can cook dinner. And bring Annie and that colored girl of yours.”

  “Her name is Jessica.”

  “Fine, bring Jessica.”

  “How do I know this ain’t just a setup to kill me and Jess, so you can take Annie for yourself?”

  “Shea-Shea, how could you think such a thing? You’re family.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Monster. Gator’s dead because One-Shot tried to kill me while you and Mackey were kicking the shit out of my club president. You wanna meet? We do it public.”

  “Fine, where?”

  “The county fair. Me and Jess are taking Annie there tomorrow evening. You meet me by the Ferris wheel around seven, we’ll talk.”

  “Julia and me can spend some time with Annie while I’m there?”

  “Depends how things go. They go well, sure. They don’t go so well, everybody finds out about your taste in men. And FYI, something happens to me or my family, my lawyer has instructions to post that photo and a few others I took all over social media.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow night at seven by the Ferris wheel.”

  Chapter 28

  When Indigo had settled up her bill, Shea escorted her to her bike and handed her the keys. Indigo’s eyes were dull and watering, her voice hoarse. “No offense, Indigo, but you look like shit.”

  “I feel like shit. I just want to go to bed and zone out.” Indigo blew her nose and rubbed her head. “Unfortunately, I still have one more errand to run.”

  Errand, huh? Like scoring some dope? “Is it something I can do for you?” Shea forced a smile.

  “Oh no. It’s kinda personal.” Indigo pulled on her helmet. “But thanks for offering. And thanks for fixing my seat heater. As achy as I feel, I’m going to need it on my way home.”

  “Ride safe out there.”

  Indigo started the bike, then gave Shea a thumbs-up. Shea waved and ran to the office, slipping on her hoodie.

  “What’s up?” asked Terrance.

  “Be back in a while.” She grabbed the keys to one of the production sports bikes. “Gonna take one of the bikes for a test ride.”

  “A test ride?”

  She raced out of the office, into the garage, hopped on the bike she’d grabbed the keys for, and headed around to the main road. Which way did you go, Indigo? she wondered. North or south?

  To the left the road descended Sycamore Mountain and south toward Shea’s neighborhood. There wasn’t much else in that direction for miles. She turned right and raced north through town hoping she didn’t get stopped by one of Sheriff Buzzkill’s deputies.

  Five minutes later and still no sign of Indigo. Did I turn the right way? Had she gone south instead?

  Shea twisted the throttle further. The speedometer crept past eighty, ninety, and into the triple digits. The motorcycle blazed past cattle ranches and roared through sweeping turns that wound among the high desert hills.

  She spotted a single motorcycle chugging along a couple of miles ahead of her. Was it Indigo? There was a lot of motorcycle traffic this time of the year. Riders came up from Phoenix and Tucson to see some fall colors.

  Shea narrowed the gap to half a mile and could make out a tall ri
der sitting upright on the distinctive six-cylinder engine of BMW K1600GT. Indigo!

  Tailing someone wasn’t really in Shea’s wheelhouse. Most of the time, she was the one being pursued, either by cops or by gangsters. So she wasn’t sure how close was too close. She didn’t want to lose her, but also didn’t want to spook her quarry.

  What’s Terrance not telling me about Indigo? she wondered. Twenty years earlier he’d served time for possession. Maybe they went to the same NA meetings. That would explain his keeping Indigo’s secrets. It wouldn’t be the first time a drug dealer hung out at NA meetings, trolling for business.

  The first traffic light near Ironwood turned yellow as Indigo approached it. Shea feared Indigo would zip through the light, leaving Shea stuck until it turned green again. But Indigo stopped. As Shea drew closer, she feared Indigo would recognize her.

  A single car crossed through the intersection. The light remained red. Indigo glanced at Shea through her mirrors.

  Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. Goddammit, why doesn’t the light turn green? Why can’t ADOT program these damn lights better?

  The light turned green. The K1600GT’s six cylinders rumbled and Indigo flew down the road. Shea kept her distance and was able to put a few cars between them, alleviating her fear of being recognized.

  As they got into town, Indigo turned north onto Shadow Rock Road and pulled into the Bradshaw Park parking lot. A decade earlier, families came to Bradshaw Park for picnics, to feed the geese, and to ride two-person pedal boats across the pond.

  But over the years, the park changed. Dope fiends and hustlers had replaced the pedal boats and geese. Every sign and picnic table was tagged with graffiti. Dirty needles and used condoms littered the weed-choked lawn.

  Shea parked on the opposite side of the lot, took cover behind a large Ford pickup, and pulled out her phone hoping to record Indigo making a buy.

  Indigo approached a tall person in a hoodie holding a paper grocery bag with the top rolled closed. They hugged and appeared to exchange pleasantries. Indigo unrolled the paper sack and pulled out a gallon-size plastic bag of what looked like syringes, though it was hard to tell from where Shea stood.

  Indigo returned the plastic bag to the paper sack and pulled out a small cardboard box, from which she withdrew a small vial. The supplier gestured with his hands like he was explaining something important Shea couldn’t hear.

  What the hell’s in the bottle? Morphine? Fentanyl? Ketamine? Whatever it is, it sure ain’t legal if she’s buying it here.

  Indigo glanced around, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  You goddamn junkie, Shea thought. I’m gonna nail your ass to the wall for killing Pipes and them other women.

  Indigo handed the bag person a thick envelope. Shea guessed it contained cash. The two shook hands and Indigo hustled back to her bike, where she locked the paper sack in the top case on her bike.

  Shea rushed back to her own motorcycle. The video she took with her phone would help, but she needed a closer look at whatever was in the sack. She couldn’t afford to let Indigo get out of this.

  —

  Indigo cruised out of the lot. Shea kept at least two cars between her and Indigo as they traveled to the east side of Ironwood, not far from the Central Arizona University campus. Ten minutes later, Indigo pulled into a CVS Pharmacy parking lot. Shea hoped Indigo would be in there long enough for her to get a peek at the drugs.

  When Indigo walked inside, Shea raced over to Indigo’s bike and pulled out her lock-picking kit. She’d never picked a BMW top case before. The lock was quite different from normal door locks. But Shea was determined to see what was inside.

  She slipped in the tension wrench and then used a pick to explore the interior of the lock. The tumblers moved out from the center rather than from one side and there were eight of them rather than the usual five or six. She applied the slightest pressure on the tension wrench and managed to set two of the pins right away.

  She glanced at the front door of the pharmacy, but there was no sign of Indigo. Good. She hunkered down and focused on the remaining six pins. The third one gave her some trouble but finally set. Then the fourth. She glanced up once again. Still no sign of Indigo. Maybe things are finally going my way.

  She set the final pins in a matter of seconds, turned the cylinder, and the top case latch released, giving her the same thrill she got from boosting cars when she was fifteen.

  Shea lifted the lid of the top case and dug into the paper sack. Sure enough, the plastic bag was filled with syringes. Roughly a hundred of them. Shea pulled out her phone and took a quick snapshot. She was about to fish deeper into the bag when someone grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground.

  “What the fuck’re you doing with my bike?”

  Shea glared up at Indigo. “Catching a murderer.”

  “Havoc? What the hell?”

  “Don’t give me that shit. You’re the one dealing drugs.”

  “Dealing drugs? Have you lost your damn mind?”

  “Oh yeah?” Shea scrambled to her feet and held up the bag of syringes. “Then what are these for?”

  “Maybe I’m diabetic.”

  “Since when do they sell insulin at Bradshaw Park? Don’t bullshit me, Indigo. You’re the one dealing the hex that’s killing those women.”

  Indigo’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You don’t know a goddamn thing.”

  “If I’m wrong, prove it.”

  “You wanna know what I bought, Miss Busybody?” Indigo held up the bag, her arm shaking with rage. “Fine!” She reached into the sack and pulled out a box and tossed it at Shea. “Read for yourself.”

  Shea examined the label. “Estradiol valerate? Why would…oh shit! I’m so sorry. That’s why Terrance knew you.”

  “Terrance told you I was trans?” shrieked Indigo, tears streaming down her face.

  “No, he just said he knew you. Wouldn’t say how. I had no idea you were transgender.”

  “Well, now you do.” Indigo snatched the box from Shea’s hand and jammed it back into the bag. “Satisfied?”

  “But I read online you got arrested.”

  “What? You been checking up on me? Damn you, Havoc!”

  “So you weren’t arrested?”

  “Some punk cop named Aguilar clocked me as trans and arrested me for soliciting.”

  “Soliciting?”

  “Yeah, he figures I’m black and I’m trans, so I must be a ho. Because who could possibly believe that a black trans woman could actually have a job?”

  “I thought you said you’re currently unemployed.”

  “After that asshole Aguilar arrested me, my boss fucking fired me because I was in jail for a weekend when I shoulda been at work.”

  Shea felt like shit. This was not what she wanted to be doing. “I’m so sorry. Really. I’ve run into Aguilar before. You’re right. He is an asshole.”

  “He’s not the only asshole.” Indigo glared at her. “Stalking me. Breaking into my top case. I should have you arrested, you know that?”

  Shea sighed. “Please don’t. I was wrong, I know that. And I won’t tell a soul you’re trans.” She put her hand on Indigo’s arm and was grateful she didn’t pull away. “I was upset about Pipes dying.”

  “You realize I had to fight just to be allowed in the Sisterhood. Labrys was against it. Didn’t feel I was a real woman. Treated me like I was some tired old drag queen invading women’s spaces.”

  “I don’t think that way. You’re a woman, same as me. End of story. Anything else is none of my business.”

  “Damn right it’s not.” Indigo pulled out her pack of tissues, blew her nose, and wiped her eyes. “Like I need this shit. I’m coming down with the flu or a cold, and now I catch you poking around in my shit.”

  Shea held out her arms. “How about a hug?”

  Indigo continued to glare at her for a moment. Then her face softened and she embraced Shea. “I hope you catch whatever I got.”


  “If I do, I deserve it.”

  Chapter 29

  Around six the next evening, Shea and Jessica led Annie past the Cortes County Fair entrance. The brisk air smelled of cotton candy, cooking grease, and livestock. Laughter, screams of delight, and tinny carnival music created a familiar mixture that summoned one of Shea’s few happy childhood memories. Annie’s eyes went wide with wonder at the spectacle.

  “Wow! Can I go on that ride?” Annie pointed to a towering machine swinging cockpits full of people side to side, spinning end over end.

  “Ugh, makes me sick just seeing it,” said Jessica with a horrified look.

  “You sure you can handle it, Doodlebug?” asked Shea. She had to admit it did look like fun. And better to ride it now than when Annie had a belly full of snacks. “Looks pretty intense.”

  “I ride on the back of your motorcycle, Aunt Shea. I think I can handle that.”

  “Well, let’s go see how long the line is.”

  Annie grabbed Shea’s hand and dragged her through the crowd as fast as she could go with Jessica trailing behind. A couple of dozen people stood in the line.

  “How long’s the wait?” Shea asked the machine’s operator, a fiftyish man with a scruffy goatee, a round belly, and a dull expression.

  “Hell if I know. I just run the machine.”

  Shea compared the number of people on the ride with those still in line. “Looks like it might be fifteen, twenty minutes. You wanna wait that long?”

  “Yes, yes, yes! I want to ride it,” replied Annie, jumping up and down.

  Shea shrugged. “Okay, well, you’re the boss.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, not of everything. Just what we do this evening. Within reason.”

  “I’m getting kind of hungry myself,” said Jessica. “You mind if I check out the food vendors?”

  Shea gave her a kiss and grinned when she caught a passerby gawking. “Take a picture! It’ll last longer.”

  The gawker flipped her off and stomped away.

  “Shea, stop teasing the straights.”

  “As you wish. Maybe you could get us some weird deep-fried things.”