“I overreacted, that’s all. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“You have my card. My cell phone number is on it. Call me at any time, day or night, if anything else makes you nervous. And keep your doors locked.”
He hung up and swung back to face Adam. “What’s up?”
“They found Triple D’s limo.”
“Fuck, that was fast.”
Adam’s face didn’t show any joy at the discovery. “Yeah. Fuck indeed.”
Chapter 13
“Go ahead. Pop it.”
Ruben stepped to the side and back two feet, but that didn’t help. The patrolman levered the trunk open with a crowbar and the sickly sweet odor of decomposing flesh, which had been a haze around the car, now became a thick fog he couldn’t escape.
Once encountered, the unique odor could never be forgotten, and this job had caused him to come across it more often than he cared to remember. There was a time, early on, when he tried to project a macho image and pretend it didn’t bother him. Now he grabbed the handkerchief he kept in his pocket and held it over his nose. Like that made a difference.
Flies rose in a choreographed swarm as the sun hit them. How did they always know? First on the scene, no matter how tightly sealed the bodies appeared.
The stench went down his nose and hit the gag reflex at the back of his throat. Why had he eaten that stupid sandwich? And why hadn’t he brought some Vick’s VapoRub?
“Two of them. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.” Adam’s voice was muffled behind his own handkerchief.
“Once you start cleaning up, I suppose everyone has to go. We knew there were two guys at the victim’s apartment. If the pieces they took with them were for proof instead of trophies, then the head guy must have been somewhere else, waiting.” Ruben held the cloth tightly over his mouth. If a fly got in there, he might lose everything he’d eaten for the last two days.
The techies hated it when you fouled their crime scene and they never let you forget it.
“I’m guessing the top guy is Triple D.” Adam nodded toward the car.
The body on top had the shoulders and arms of an old time circus strong man. It also sported breasts bigger than most Playboy Playmates.
Adam studied the body, then glanced down at his own chest. “If those are a result of weightlifting, I’m never picking up anything over ten pounds again in my life.”
“Naw, look at his face. That acne is from steroid use. I’ll bet when Doc gets him up on the table his nuts will be the size of a pea.”
“Roid rage would go a long way toward explaining the violence at the first murder scene.” Adam ran a hand over his chest, but seemed satisfied that his own workouts hadn’t produced any unwanted side effects.
“You’re right. The destruction in her apartment was overkill. You can search a place without throwing books across the room or breaking things. Maybe El Jefe was doing more than cleaning up. Maybe he was expressing his displeasure at not finding that appointment book.” A fly buzzed past Ruben’s ear and he swatted at it with his free hand.
“But the book is in code. She never listed her client’s real names.” Adam raked a hand through his unruly hair.
“We know that, but he didn’t. Besides, she could have had a code key or used real names for the first visit. We’ve got to find that book.”
“Right now, I’d settle for knowing the identity of the second guy, but I can’t reach his pocket until we get Triple D moved off him, and I can’t budge his muscle-bound body.”
Ruben leaned across Triple D and eyed the body underneath. “I don’t think you’ll find anything in there anyway. Triple D’s wallet is missing and so is that fancy watch the kid said he wore. Somebody’s attempt to make this look like a robbery?”
A breeze kicked up and the odor, which had seemed to settle toward the ground, enveloped them again, making Ruben’s eyes burn.
Adam waved a hand in front of his face, shooing a fly. “Who would take a couple of hundred cash and leave a $35,000.00 car? Shit. This car is bound to be totaled. No way to get that odor out. Hope Triple D kept the insurance up or his mom is out of luck.”
Ruben glanced down at his suit. He couldn’t go to Mamacita’s smelling like this. He’d have to stop by the police department gym and take a shower, wash his hair. Then he could drop the suit at the cleaners on his way to her house. Good thing he kept a change of clothes in his locker.
“How do you figure it went down?” Adam asked.
“My guess is they were expecting to meet El Jefe here for their payoff. Probably had the trophies stored in the trunk. Even in a limo, you wouldn’t want to take a chance driving around with that sitting in plain view. When accomplice number one, leaned in to retrieve the package, either Gordo or El Jefe shot him.”
Adam’s eyes swept the surrounding area. “Yeah. Flattened grass over there”—he pointed with his chin—“indicates another car. Forensics can try, but I doubt it’s possible to get a decent tire impression.”
“They likely planned to do away with this guy from the beginning. Then Gordo picks up his friend, stuffs him in the trunk and bam, he’s done, too, while he’s still halfway in the trunk and easy to lift.”
“At least a double homicide should keep Hard Luck off our backs for a while.” Adam stuck his glasses on top of his head and rubbed his face.
True. This bought them another week to work Yolanda’s case uninterrupted. Although he’d rather fight Hard Luck for the extra time and find Triple D alive and talking.
Ruben drove while Adam worked the phone, finally getting a name and rap sheet for Triple D’s dead partner.
Two blocks from Mrs. Cordova’s, he’d pulled into a gas station. They had both washed their hands and faces and left their suit jackets in the car, but the old woman still wrinkled her nose when she answered the door.
“Aren’t you the same two men who were here earlier? What did you do, roll in the dirt? And I guess you decided not to bother trying to fool me about who you are and why you’re here.”
Adam stepped forward. “We’re police officers, ma’am. We need to speak to you about your son, Gordo, sometimes known as Triple D.”
“Well, come in, then. He’s still not here, but I’m sure you already know that.”
Ruben flipped on the overhead light as he passed through the doorway. Maybe he should have left it off. That way he wouldn’t have to see her face when he told her the news.
She settled into what must have been her spot on the sofa and waved toward an empty chair. “Sit down and tell me what you came to say. The flowery spray you put on didn’t cover that smell. I had a dog once that crawled under the house to die. I never could get anyone to pull him out for me. I guess his bones are still there. You never forget that smell, do you? How long was he dead when you found him?”
“That’ll be for the ME to say, but twenty-four hours at a minimum, probably more.” Adam spoke softly, leaning forward.
“Then he didn’t purposely leave me in this position. That’s a comfort. He was a good boy, at least most of the time.”
“Yes, ma’am. They change once the gangs get their hooks into them.” Ruben nodded, even though she couldn’t see him.
“It wasn’t the gang that changed him, he’d quit with that nonsense.”
Not completely, Ruben thought, but didn’t see any reason to tell her. “If it wasn’t the gang, then what changed him?”
“When he was little, kids bullied him. That’s when he got into weightlifting. He entered some contests and did well, but there was always somebody bigger, stronger. He changed gyms and that’s when I notice the difference. He could still be sweet, but he developed this temper. I never knew what might set him off.”
Ruben stood. “My partner needs to ask you some more questions about Gordo and his friends. Do you mind if I check his room?”
“I suppose if I said no you’d just be back with a warrant. What difference does it make now, anyway?” She took a sip from the glass on the tabl
e beside her and waved toward the back of the house.
Ruben could hear Adam questioning her as he made his way into a room that could only belong to Triple D. Weightlifting posters hung on the walls and porn magazines littered the floor.
A roll of toilet paper sat on the nightstand beside an unmade bed. A baggie of unmarked pills waited beside a dirty water glass. The room reeked of body odor and something else he didn’t want to think about, but he didn’t plan to be there if the forensics guys decided to shine a black light around.
He couldn’t find one book of any kind, certainly not a leather appointment book. For all he knew, the guy was illiterate. Unless he actually bought the magazines for the articles.
Nope, neither this guy nor his mother had picked up a newspaper and seen the photo of Mamacita’s house. Why didn’t that make him feel any better?
He made his way back to the front when he heard Adam say, “Is there anyone we can call for you, ma’am?”
“My nephew is already on the way. I guess I’ll have to learn to put up with him now. Are you the ones who sicced that social services lady on me?”
“Yes, ma’am. We thought you seemed to need some help. I’m sorry if we offended you.”
“You were right to call. I might have sat here and waited for Gordo until I starved to death.”
Ruben let Adam drive back to the office. Even with the seat all the way back, his legs felt cramped.
“Did you learn anything useful while I was in a room as disgusting as you’d expect from a man named Triple D?” he asked.
“I got the name of the gym where he’s been training. She recognized the name of the second dead guy. He was Gordo’s training partner, Vernon Shaw. What about you, find a leather appointment book or a receipt for killing Yolanda Garza?”
“Neither. If he’d had it, he would have given it up when he saw his friend killed.” Ruben massaged the spot between his eyes.
“I did find one thing, though.” Ruben reached into his pocket and pulled out an evidence bag with the container of pills. “Odds are, the only prints will be Gordo’s, but we could get lucky and find another one, or be able to trace the pills themselves.”
“Let’s drop that by the lab now, then get back to the office and run a check on that gym Gordo and Shaw were using. I want to find out who owns it and if there’s been any trouble with illegal pills, that sort of thing.”
“You check out the gym. I’ll check Gordo and Shaw. See if there’s anybody they both know who might be El Jefe.”
With any luck, this could be the last night he had to spend on Mamacita’s sofa.
Tessa finished the portrait of the young boy, but didn’t feel any better. She was just as angry as before, maybe even more.
He came into her house, her sanctuary, and stood there like he belonged. He actually poured her a cup of coffee from her own pot.
And told her facts about her own life that he knew and she didn’t. She searched her mind for a word that described how she felt. Violated. That was it.
She pulled out a fresh canvas, breathing in the clean scent of the fabric amid all the paint and varnish smells that hung in the air. This time she’d paint him as he was now. Maybe that would help. She blocked in the counter top, her coffee pot, and where he’d been standing. When she tried to account for his height, the proportions seemed off. Too bad. That’s how tall he was. And his shoulders, were they really that broad?
Stop it. Why did those thoughts keep springing up, uninvited? He was the one person, more than anyone else, who had ruined her life. If she just keep repeating that thought, she’d be okay.
What would her life have been like, what would she have been like, if not for that one awful night? Would she have been stronger, more confident, or the same scared little bunny she’d been for so many years.
Only these last few months, since she’d quit her job in the department store, bought this house, and started to paint full time had she felt like a true adult. The nightmares had faded. Now they were likely to come again.
She opened her hand and saw the marks on her palm where she’d gripped the paintbrush so tight her fingernails had dug into her flesh. Without thinking, she hurled the brush across the room. It hit a jar of paint thinner on her workbench and a black cat shot out the open door.
Damn. She’d scared Bob. “Bob, come on, boy. It’s supper time.”
She grabbed the box of Cat Chow and rattled it, but he didn’t make an appearance. The cat was half feral anyway. It didn’t take much to scare him off. The sound of Ruben’s voice alone had kept him hiding for hours. Now she wouldn’t see him before tomorrow evening. But the food would be gone when she came out in the morning.
As soon as this painting was finished, whether she felt better or not, she’d call Ruben and tell him everything she knew. She wouldn’t be like Bob, hiding from shadows and bad memories.
Chapter 14
Another slice had been shaved off the moon as it continued to wane. Ruben glanced across the street. No sign of Molly. She’d been grounded. No more late night romps.
He’d phoned Mamacita to warn her he’d be late, but she gave him a cold glance as he entered the house. She was watching another one of her “documentaries” on the occult.
“I left your plate in the microwave,” she said over her shoulder.
If the anemia pills were working, he didn’t see any sign of it.
As he punched the button and waited for the microwave to work its magic, his eyes fell on the journal he’d left on the counter.
He could read it while he ate. That would save him from having to watch Mamacita’s program about ghosts and goblins or witches and werewolves. How could she watch that crap?
On the front page, scrawled in childish handwriting was his name—Ruben M.
He’d forgotten that. There was another kid named Ruben in his class that year. He couldn’t picture the kid, but he remembered a rhyme about Ruben M, and Ruben J, and the different games they play. That couldn’t be right. He was sure the kid played football. And whose rhyme was it anyway?
“Ruben.” Mamacita’s voice sounded impatient. Had she been calling him while he was reading?
He wiped his mouth and hurried into the living room. Yep, the program about werewolves was over and one about witchcraft in the Middle Ages was starting.
“Julio called me today and wants me to come over and spend the weekend with them. It’s Todd’s seventh birthday. I think DeAnn just wants me to help cook for the party. But either way, you won’t need to stay here and protect me. You can go to your own apartment and I’m sure you’ll have the case solved by the time I get back.”
Visions of his king-sized bed floated in front of his eyes. So firm, it didn’t sag, it was wide enough to turn over without the danger of falling off, the sheets were smooth, not rough, with scratchy little pills in the fabric. It even smelled good, not like twenty years of kid’s dirty feet and spilled food.
What if they all went in together and bought Mamacita a new sofa for Christmas? Ramona would agree. That would save her from having to wrap something and try to mail it from whatever part of the world she was in at the time. Vincente would agree, but then he wouldn’t have the money when the time came.
Emily would never agree. She would want to outdo them all. And Julio’s wife? Who knew what she’d say?
“Ruben, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ll be safe at Julio and DeAnn’s and I shouldn’t worry.” But he would.
Julio was an accountant. A wiz if you had a problem with your taxes, but not much use if a gangbanger with a pair of tree-trimming clippers showed up.
But then, that guy was dead. All he had to worry about now was the guy who killed him.
Breakfast was even quieter than usual. Ruben had fallen asleep reading his journal, only to be plagued by weird dreams.
Mamacita had dark circles under her eyes. She obviously hadn’t slept any better than he had.
He searched for a subje
ct to break the silence. The painting in Tessa’s studio came to mind. Had that been what he dreamed about? “Did I have a blue shirt that I wore all the time when I was a kid?”
“That shirt. I hated that shirt. It was Julio’s and you found it in his closet after he outgrew it. It was for that football team, the Oilers. If I didn’t wash it, you would wear it dirty.”
Her voice rose for a moment, then tapered off.
He glanced around the kitchen for her bottle of pills. “Have you been taking that medicine the doctor gave you?”
“Ssst.” Her hand fluttered as if she were shooing a gnat. “What does he know? Those pills can’t fix me.”
His heart lodged in his throat. No wonder she wasn’t any better. She hadn’t been taking her medicine. “He went to school for a bazillion years then took all kinds of tests. It’s possible he might know something. If you don’t like that doctor, we’ll find another one, but you have to at least try.”
Mamacita’s eyes bore into him and he realized that he was standing and yelling at her.
Her voice lowered and she placed her hand on his. “That doctor can’t help me because it’s too late. I’ll be gone before the next full moon and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I want to see my children and grandchildren one last time before I die. Do you think you can make arrangements for Ramona to come home?”
His breath rushed out as he dropped into his chair. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“You’ve never given up on anything in your life. You and Papa worked and scrimped and saved and made sure we all went to church, and did our homework. You gave us good food, and a clean, happy home. You even sent five kids to college. Why are you quitting now? Is it because you miss Papa?”
He knew it. Even good marriages weren’t worth the heartache.
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