Wall of Silence

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  “Big girl, isn’t she?”

  “Yup. She intimidates the heck out of most people. We never have any trouble when she’s here.”

  “I should think not.” I turned around and cradled my hands around my beer. “I wouldn’t tangle with her.”

  “I don’t know. I’d love to bed a big woman like that one.”

  My eyes were drawn to the mirror, and I was startled to catch the bouncer looking in my direction. My lips released the bottle with a pop as I swallowed the beer. Her eyes were so blue, I thought as she looked away.

  “Too bad, though.” Stacy wiped down the bar, her eyes still on the perfectly cut form of the bouncer.

  “Too bad about what?” I realized Stacy was still talking and only just managed to keep from choking on another deep draught of beer.

  “Too bad she’s straight.”

  “Are you sure?” I stole another glance at the giantess at the doorway. She was looking right at me. “I mean, maybe she just isn’t the obvious type.”

  Stacy grinned. She knew what I was talking about. We both eyed Chrissie, the part-time barkeep. It wasn’t the dark labrys tattoos that adorned both of Chrissie’s biceps, or the ragged haircut, or the tank top with baggy chinos that she wore pretty much every day; it was more the sparse goatee that Chrissie lovingly cultivated on her chin that sort of gave her away. Why she would go so out of her way to look like she did and still insist on being called Chrissie instead of just Chris was beyond me.

  “Well, every so often Riley gets a call on her cell from some guy named Brad and she rushes off to talk to him in private. Tells him she loves him. Smiles when they’re talking.”

  “Really?” I looked at her skeptically.

  Riley stared down at some poor kid’s driver’s license, wordlessly handed the card back, and shook her head. The kid and her friends, embarrassed at being caught, walked out the door. The whole thing transpired without a word being uttered by either party.

  “I would give my right tit to do her,” Stacy said as we both were treated to a view of her tight ass and strong thighs when she bent to tie her shoelace. She straightened and stomped until her pants fell just right over her boots. I smiled, recognizing the gesture. I did the same thing daily.

  “I don’t know, Stacy. I prefer my women to be a bit more approachable. Oh, and let’s not forget, gay.”

  I took a swig of my beer. Stacy had a good ten years on me. She should know that looks and a great body weren’t everything. Her partner Lisa didn’t have the body this woman did. Hell, most mortals didn’t. But boy, was she sweet. Always ready with a smile and a kind word. I would love to have a woman like Lisa in my life. I glanced in the mirror again. Still, the bouncer was very attractive.

  “So you’re saying you wouldn’t give her a try?”

  “Who on earth would want to cuddle with a hardass?”

  “Shit, I would.”

  I shook my head. I had been referring to myself when I made the hardass comment, but to explain would be inviting another come-on, so I joined Stacy in her little joke and hoped she would change the subject.

  “So, when’s the last time you got laid?” she asked.

  Here we go again. “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “Nah, I’m not talking about me, though you could do worse. I’m just worried about you. You’re so tied up in that job of yours that you don’t even give off the vibe anymore.”

  “The vibe?”

  “Yeah, you know.” Stacy leaned in close. “The ‘I’m a lesbian, come eat me’ vibe.”

  “Ha, I see. Well, I’m glad I don’t give off that vibe anymore. It could be dangerous.”

  “Hey, look.” Stacy was staring at something behind me.

  I didn’t turn around immediately. I casually looked up into the mirrors instead. The bouncer had unclipped the cell phone from her belt and was answering it. She waved two women in while listening intently. I watched in shock as the deadpan features transformed right before my eyes.

  “Shit!” I breathed.

  “Told ya. Gorgeous, huh?”

  “Damn, yeah, I guess she is.” Gorgeous just wasn’t the right word. She seemed so happy and alive that it was hard not to look at her. Vibrant perhaps was a better word, but it still didn’t seem to cover her demeanor fully.

  “Yeah, well, Brad is one lucky SOB,” Stacy said as I stood unsteadily.

  Having sufficiently dulled my senses, I said good-bye and steered myself toward the door, politely smiling at the welcoming eyes that greeted me on my way. Trust me, girls, you really don’t want me. I passed the giantess without so much as a glance. I hadn’t seen her say a word to anyone else who had left, or come, for that matter, so I didn’t expect to get any different. But as the door closed, I heard, “Night.”

  “Good night,” I replied, cursing myself for not wearing my bomber jacket. The thin shirt that I wore over my T-shirt did nothing to fend off the biting wind.

  I cut through the dark parking lot to get to my apartment instead of staying on the well-lit sidewalks. Although downtown wasn’t the safest area, there had never been any trouble at Secrets for as long as I’d been going there. The alcohol must have dulled my senses, because I barely had enough time to register the footsteps behind me before a powerful hand landed on my shoulder.

  Instinctively I whipped around while reaching for my service issue. First thing they teach you is never stand close enough that you can get your gun knocked away. I stepped back and aimed carefully at my assailant’s chest, which for whatever reason was swaying. I squinted in puzzlement.

  The bouncer from Secrets had followed me outside. She was even taller than I thought. I only came to her chest, not that that was a bad place to be, but damn, she was a big woman. Her face had paled, and she looked like she was about to pass out. Her hands were still in the air. It took me a minute to realize that I still had the gun trained on her. I dropped my arm hastily.

  “Sorry about that, but you should really be more careful about who you walk up behind. Oh shit.” I grabbed her around her surprisingly small waist as she toppled forward. Her shoulder bumped into my nose, making me blink rapidly, and for a second we just stood that way. It was a strangely comforting embrace. I had the oddest impression of chocolate and a warm blanket.

  “Here, sit down, okay?” She mutely allowed me to ease her down on the curb. “Put your head down, that might help.”

  “I don’t like guns.” The comment was muffled, but I could hear fear, anger, and embarrassment in her voice.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a detective. It sort of comes with the job.” For some reason, I was talking to this woman as if I was the one who had a good six inches and probably fifty pounds on her instead of the other way around. I touched her back. Smooth muscles undulated beneath my hand. “Do you think you can stand up?”

  I helped her to her feet, and we stared at each other for a minute before we both looked away. I had been dating women since I was fifteen years old and fending off guys for about as long. I’d never felt so awkward around anyone before. And straight or not, she seemed to be feeling the same way. Suddenly I was mortified as I realized I was staring at her breasts.

  “I should go,” I told her nervously.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you.” Her voice still sounded faintly muffled, as if she had a cold. Probably from not wearing a jacket.

  “I think that’s my line. Do you need me for something?” I asked as I holstered my gun.

  “No.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, “You’re not driving, are you?”

  I frowned, then it dawned on me that she thought that I might be about to get behind the wheel after all the alcohol I’d had to drink. Stacy’s worst fear was that someone would get loaded in her establishment and then go out and kill someone, and she would be culpable. She probably had this woman watching every customer. Disappointed, I said, “No, I only live a few blocks away. Thanks for the concern.”

  “Sure,” she said again in that muffled voice of her
s.

  I shoved my hands in my pants pockets. “Okay, I should get going.”

  I started for home. I was tempted to look back because I was positive that she was still watching me from the parking lot. It should have made me uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone, like someone actually gave a shit if I got home safely or not.

  I stifled a chuckle. Yup, my ass is drunker than I thought.

  Chapter Four

  I picked the apartment complex I lived in because it was so quiet, thanks to its mostly elderly tenants, and because of its close proximity to the division. It took me less than five minutes to get to the local women’s bookstore, the division, Secrets, Old Navy, or the grocery store. Anything other than that, I just did without. Normally, when I walked into the division it was bustling. This particular morning, it wasn’t. With the exception of a few uniforms who were just coming off the graveyard shift, the place was almost empty. Glancing over at the captain’s office, I noted the time: five thirty a.m. Shit. I honestly couldn’t remember ever being at work this early.

  I was standing at the coffee machine waiting for my cup to fill when I noticed a familiar-looking uniform standing behind me. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Oh no. Take your time, Detective Everett.”

  Damn , I thought, so this guy knows my name. I guess I was supposed to know his. I never forget a face, but I’m not good with names. I gave the guy a fake smile and went back to staring at my coffee cup.

  When I tried to leave, he came out with the words I’d come to dread during my three years in the division. “Detective, may I talk to you?”

  I winced. Nearly every unmarried and not so unmarried man in the place had asked me out, and I thought by now they would have compared notes and decided I was frigid or something. I have a policy that I stick to, and that is, I don’t date cops, especially not male ones. Period. I only have room for one narcissistic asshole in my life, and that position is already filled by me.

  As I waited for the uniform to speak, I noted the wedding band on his finger and thought, I had better be wrong about the conversation we are about to have, mister, ’cause I don’t take kindly to being asked out by married men, especially those not smart enough to remove their rings.

  “I just wanted to say thank you.” He stretched out his hand and I shook it out of habit.

  I could tell from the way he held himself that he was still wet behind the ears. Couldn’t have been on the force very long for him to blush so easily. “You’re welcome, Officer. Now can you refresh my memory as to what you’re thanking me for?”

  He stepped closer and spoke quietly. “For the package Detective Smith brought by the other day. I was able to get my wife something nice, and my kid some clothes, and pay off a few bills. It was a big help.” He must have noticed my shock, because he shifted uncomfortably. “Smitty said that me and Grady shouldn’t say anything to you, but I wanted to thank you for thinking of us. You and Smitty didn’t have to take care of us, but we do appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The rookie’s mouth was still moving, but I wasn’t listening. It was impossible for me to continue this conversation. Smitty had given this kid hush money to cover my ass. I didn’t know what to feel. This was getting more complicated by the moment. Smitty had already committed several crimes to cover up something I had done. I tuned back in as the kid was finishing up his statement.

  “We would have done the same thing if we had the chance, I want you to know that. And if you need anything else, I’m your guy.”

  I made the appropriate sounds, I guess, because the officer looked pleased as he walked away.

  Why would Smitty pay this kid off and then tell him not to say anything to me about it? It didn’t make sense. I walked back to my desk, put the coffee down, and stared out into space. I thought the nightmare was over, and after a few months, Harrison Canniff’s death would become a cold case, which sickeningly enough was my and Smitty’s territory. Once the case was given to us, it would be buried so deep no one would ever think to investigate. Smitty was right. He had taken care of it.

  But meantime, Homicide still had an open case file. Sicko or no, this guy’s murder had to be investigated. I doubted they would expend resources on it, though. I read through the file once more, to reassure myself that it was virtually inactive.

  The homicide info was stark and no-nonsense. Harrison Canniff, age thirty-four, small business owner, died from blunt trauma wounds to the head and face. The autopsy report stated that Canniff was already dead when his body was doused with gasoline and set on fire. Nearly all the teeth in his mouth had been busted out, making it hard to do a dental ID. His wife identified him based on the vaguely discernable tattoo on his right shoulder, and a gold cap on one of his bicuspids. That creature had had a wife, someone who probably was missing him and in pain because of what I had done.

  I sank back in my chair. I couldn’t have kneed Canniff so hard his teeth were smashed, that much I was sure of. The bones of your nose are easily broken. I should know, mine have been broken twice while wrestling with some perp. But to break all the teeth out of someone’s head, that takes a great deal of force and you’d notice teeth lying around. Smitty had dragged me away, but I was sure I would have seen that kind of damage.

  The other possible explanation for Canniff’s condition was that Smitty had worked the body over after I left. He said he had covered our asses before he dumped the body, namely burning it and making sure neither of us inadvertently left evidence on the body. But to beat the shit out of it? Certainly it had held up the identification process, but to what purpose? It seemed brutal and pointless. But then again, if Smitty was trying to make it look like a hit, maybe the extra damage was necessary.

  It only took minutes for me to start blaming myself for what he was doing to protect me. I could never forgive myself if something went wrong and he was somehow screwed because of me. I hadn’t felt like such a fuckup in years. I quickly exited the info on Canniff and stood up just as the captain walked in.

  “Well, Detective Everett, I must say I’m pleasantly surprised to see you here so early. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  I was in no mood to deal with wisecracks about my tardiness. In fact, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with the captain, period. I shrugged and tried to look as busy as possible in the hopes that she would go away. She didn’t, of course.

  “Detective, can I see you in my office for a minute?”

  Shit, shit, shit, so much for a good day . I followed her and sat down in the rather uncomfortable chair across from her, feeling like a petulant child called to the principal’s office.

  “Is something wrong, Detective?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “I’ve noticed that you’re not yourself lately.”

  I wanted to tell her that she didn’t know what myself actually was, so how could she know when I wasn’t it? I knew I was acting childish, but I hated feeling cornered and that’s exactly how this woman made me feel.

  “May I ask you something?” She folded her hands neatly on her desk. “Why is it that you and I don’t talk? We’re both women. You would think we would get along, but from the moment I came here, I sensed animosity from you.”

  Now what was this all about, I wondered as I stared at her in disbelief. It wasn’t like she had ever shown any interest in whether or not I had any animosity toward her. I took in her suit and superbly coiffed hair. The woman was not a cop, she was a model. She was someone who would, and should, ride a desk her whole life.

  “What do you mean, Captain?” I plastered a look of complete befuddlement on my face. “I always thought we got along great.” Hot damn, this lying shit was starting to be too easy.

  “Well, perhaps I’ve been getting the wrong signals. I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to about work or anything, I’m always here.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain. Thanks.” I exi
ted her office, resisting the urge to take a look behind me to make sure she hadn’t transformed into something hideous.

  Now, I am not an idiot. I know there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in that offer of friendship. The captain could normally give two shakes of a rat’s ass if I fell off the face of the earth, as long as I did all my paperwork before I took the plunge. Suddenly she wanted to be my best friend?

  I slumped down in my chair and racked my brain. Finally, I decided that I couldn’t wait until Smitty came back next week. I needed to find out what the hell was going on. I decided to pay Smitty a visit at home.

  *

  With Smitty out on vacation, the captain had broken down and allowed me to check out a car. I wasn’t too happy about having to drive one of the big Crown Victorias, though. I would have much rather had something less…matronly. I hated not being able to see the ground when I drove, and Crown Vics handled like boats. Sighing, I pulled into Smitty’s driveway and took an appreciative look around. My partner lived in a great neighborhood. Lots of nice, hardworking young couples that made sure that they kept their yards manicured and whatnot. It was a big difference from living downtown.

  As I approached Monica’s Ford minivan, the hair on my arms stood up as it always did. I vaguely wondered if she felt odd transporting infant bodies and her own young son in the same vehicle. I always imagined that the eyes of dead babies watched me from behind the Aerostar’s tinted windows. I passed by the van swiftly, suppressing the urge to look back, and pushed Smitty’s doorbell, admiring a welcome mat I hadn’t noticed the last time I visited.

  Monica opened the door and, with a squeal, launched herself at me. She hugged me so tightly I was hard-pressed to catch my breath. She then proceeded to plant a fat one on my lips, right there on the front porch—neighbors be damned. She had been greeting me like that since we first met. I had been somewhat reluctant to meet her when Smitty and I were first partnered, because she was the only daughter of Los Angeles Police Chief Herbert James. A singularly unmoving figure, he probably hadn’t been out on the streets in at least twenty years. His ideas on law enforcement were outdated and ineffective.