A Grave Mistake

by Stella Cameron

  Astride his lap, she still wore her tap pants. A big diamond on a diamond-studded chain slipped back and forth between her breasts. He took the chain and hooked it around one of her breasts. “Daddy always gives you the best, darlin’. That’s some sparkler.” He leaned forward to suck her deep in his mouth. When he let her plop out he said, “I wasn’t talkin’ about the diamond, but I do have something for you. I’ve been keepin’ it till we were together like this.”

  She kissed his lips, darted her tongue in and out of his mouth, and whispered, “You don’t have to spoil me. I just want to be with you.”

  He pulled open a drawer in the table beside him and removed a square white box. Inside, coiled around and around on itself, lay a long, deep yellow gold chain decorated with ruby dangles.

  “This belonged to a princess,” he said. “It’s three hundred years old.” Quickly, before he blew it—literally—he fastened the fabulous piece around her waist. “I want you to wear it all the time, for me.”

  She fingered the gems. “I will,” she breathed. “But I don’t deserve it.”

  “No, you don’t, do you?” He slapped her rump hard and she pressed his face between her breasts.

  The pants tore, leaving her open to him.

  “Make sure I learn my lesson,” she said.

  Sam made sure. She took him deep inside, raised herself up and drove down again, and each time she lifted up her sweet rear, he slapped it, and she shrieked.

  34

  When Guy walked into the old office, Nat sat there with his feet on the desk, staring as if he’d been waiting for him to arrive. Which he probably had.

  “Who tied your guts in a knot?” Nat said. “You look like hell—mad as hell.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Guy told him. “I’m not in the mood for your smart-ass remarks.”

  “I think I just told you I’d noticed that.” He slapped his boots on the floor, pulled a notebook toward him and took up a pen. “If you feel like communicatin’, I’m here for you, brother.”

  “I don’t have any brothers and if I did, they wouldn’t look like you.”

  Nat knew when Guy was pulling out all the stops to make his old partner mad. He didn’t rise to the bait.

  “This place is a sty,” Guy said. “No wonder everythin’s missin’ around here—it’s probably all in these shit heaps.”

  “The case file on the Hemp killing isn’t,” he said mildly. “I don’t think that thing is in the buildin’ anymore, if it ever was. And I’ve searched the online system again. Nothin’, Guy. And you know material must have been entered. One or two have even mentioned knowing Fleet worked on it. Gone. Wiped out. Now we know about Fleet and Zinnia, I wonder how much was ever there. The stuff I brought to you after Sedge died came out of a cardboard box in a storeroom. I could tell it wasn’t everything but I thought it was a start. Man, it wasn’t even that.”

  “What we’re both not saying is we think Fleet may have gotten rid of a lot of stuff,” Guy said. “Hell, I’m sorry for bein’ a prick, Nat.” He meant it. He felt like a moron for going off at Nat. “I’m havin’ a really bad day.”

  “We’ve had several of those.”

  “This is worse. I gotta think what I’m doin’ here. Oliphant has to be dealt with just so or he’ll clam up—not that he’s likely to run off at the mouth. My mind isn’t focused. Instead I’m worryin’ about Jilly. She raised the worst hell you ever heard and wouldn’t let me drive back here myself.” He felt stupid and blushed—and felt more stupid. “No sleep, overworked, on and on she went about all the reasons why I was a danger on the road to myself and anyone else. Oh, then there was the rain and the slippery roads.”

  Nat watched Guy’s face and he saw a lot more than he presumed Guy wanted him to see. The man had a really bad case. He loved Jilly Gable and he still didn’t know how to handle that. “It’s a good thing when someone cares about you,” he said. “Be grateful. You like her, too.”

  Guy stuck out his jaw. “Yes, I do. A lot. But I’ve got a job to do here and she’s out there in the Quarter on her own. I told her to go see Jack and Celina, but she won’t do it, I just know it.”

  “Thousands of people are out there alone. Jilly’s a smart woman. She can look after herself.”

  “Can you promise me there’s no one in the area who would think it a good move to do something to her? Even if it was only rough her up? That might just make me back off the case, mightn’t it? Don’t bother to say anythin’, I know the answer and I didn’t need the extra grief today.”

  “Crap happens in any city. She’s as safe here as anywhere.”

  Guy’s nerves sang in his ears. “You might want to take that suggestion back. She found out her car was mysteriously scrapped—without her permission, although the guy at the yard insists he got instructions from a man who said he was her friend. Lee O’Brien reckoned someone fiddled with the brakes—not that she’s a reliable witness to that. But it’s as likely as not that Jilly was set up to get hurt—or worse—and the car was gotten rid of so there wouldn’t be any evidence.”

  “Um—” Nat cleared his throat a few times “—you thought about givin’ Jilly somethin’ meaningful?”

  “Meaningful? Like what?”

  Nat shrugged. “Anythin’ that she could have to remind her you care about her.”

  Guy frowned, then got an odd look in his eyes. “Don’t go there, Nat. That’s not funny.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be. I remember you sayin’ you’d learned somethin’ from Billie, bless her soul.”

  Guy made a fist and Nat braced himself. The fist relaxed slowly. Billie Knight had been Guy’s girl for a long time—before she got taken out by a crazy while she was looking at a little antique diamond ring she had her heart set on. Guy kicked himself for that. He’d known about the ring but didn’t think he was ready for commitment. When it was too late he would have given anything to buy Billie that ring.

  “I shouldn’t have mentioned any of that,” Nat said, and felt lousy. “It’s none of my business what you do.”

  “Let’s go for Oliphant,” Guy said, but the lines fanning from his eyes looked deeper and a white line surrounded his tight mouth.

  “Guy—”

  “You had every right to say it. I needed to hear it. You gonna do anything about Wazoo? I know you’ve been seein’ her now and then.”

  “We really aren’t near anythin’ like that,” Nat said. “We may never be, but I do enjoy that woman.”

  A faint smile softened Guy’s features. He and Nat left the office and set out for Oliphant’s cave. They all called it a cave because it had no windows and rather than use the fluorescent lights overhead, the detective kept on a low-wattage desk lamp.

  A short, wiry man with close-cropped dark hair and a mustache, Oliphant hammered away at a keyboard, scrolling through lineup shots and checking with a mug shot blown up on the right side of his screen.

  “Pretty boy,” Guy said, tapping the door frame on the way in. He looked closer at the screen. “I’ve seen him before. Pimp. Can’t remember his name.”

  “Otto Reeb,” Oliphant said. “We think he got bored and decided to make sure we thought he was important. Killed one of his girls. Beat her to death with a tire iron. Real original disposal of the body. He put her in a Dumpster.”

  “So why are you botherin’ with further identification?”

  “A witness fingered someone else. The witness is one of Otto’s girls, by the way.”

  “Convenient,” Nat said. His edginess showed. “Got some time for us?”

  Oliphant swung his chair around and scooted it on its wheels to the part of his desk that faced Guy and Nat. The man didn’t look so good. “Always got time for you two charmers,” he said, jerking up one side of his mouth. He had sad eyes that had lost their life, like so many in Homicide. “Shut the door and pull up a pew. I got something you two might enjoy.”

  Guy dealt with the door while Nat pulled forward two chairs with padded plastic seats from
which dirty gray stuffing spilled.

  Oliphant went to a metal cabinet against a wall, shook open the sticky door and carefully transported three crystal highball glasses to his desk. He returned with a bottle of Courvoisier.

  “Beats my Rémy Martin,” Guy said. “Ever wonder why so many Homicide types are brandy men?”

  “Nope,” Oliphant said, dumping a couple of fine gold fingers in each glass. “We see the worst, the scum and the horror. Gives us an appreciation for fine things. You’d hardly expect us to go for blended whiskey.”

  Nat and Guy murmured an emphatic “No,” although they’d both drunk their share of whatever was handy on occasion.

  They sipped the brandy and fell into a moment of appreciative silence. Guy ran his eyes over the office. The amazing bulletin boards ought to fall from the walls. He’d swear every piece of paper ever pinned or taped up there had been left for posterity. The effect resembled a couple of dirty rag rugs stretched out like funky artwork. Nat had found the picture of Pip Sedge at Jazz Babes in that lot. Guy applauded the man’s perseverance.

  A second desk, the one Fleet had used, was bare except for a computer on one side, a couple of wire baskets with In and Out written in black marker and stapled to the front—very few pieces of paper in either one—and a framed picture of severed heads in bell jars.

  “Nice,” Guy said. “Who’s your partner these days?”

  Oliphant laced his fingers behind his neck and rocked back in his chair. He squinted at the ceiling. “You don’t really want to know but he’s Len Fuzzo—I’m not makin’ that up—a dickhead they’ve shipped from cop shop to cop shop because he manages to freak everyone out, especially female staff. He’s okay by me. Comes on time, leaves on time, and all that—” he waved at the grisly photo “—is an act. He doesn’t have the guts of a chicken—excuse the pun.”

  “Not much like Bob Fleet,” Guy said, arms crossed and fingers crossed.

  “Hah.” Oliphant gave his full attention to the Courvoisier again. “They don’t make Bob Fleets anymore. Why do the best always die young?”

  Guy felt short on wisdom.

  “Seems like the deck’s stacked against ’em,” Nat said, his expression serious. “Only the good die young, huh?”

  Guy was impressed. What Nat said didn’t mean diddly but it sounded sage.

  Evidently Oliphant thought it brilliant. “Still, I had one terrific partner. I can’t complain.” He looked from Nat to Guy. “Good to see you two back as a team. Chief Carson said it was happenin’ finally.”

  Guy swallowed an announcement that he still had slightly under a month to make up his mind about teamwork around here. He didn’t comment on what Oliphant had said, despite feeling Nat’s scrutiny.

  “Too bad about Fleet and Zinnia Sedge,” Guy said, and prepared to watch the show.

  Oliphant disappointed him. The man raised heavy brows, looked as innocent as a Cub Scout and pushed his head forward in a “come again” attitude.

  “He had to have put the Paula Hemp case into the system but it’s sure not there now,” Nat said, cleaning his fingernails. “Any idea where he might have kept a backup?”

  “What backup?” Oliphant said. “You know we don’t do that. I’m not even sure we could if we wanted to. It’s all central.”

  Nat got to his feet, leaned over Oliphant’s desk and pointed to a slot in the man’s computer. “Time you caught up with the times and used CDs,” Nat said.

  “Bob didn’t like computers,” Oliphant told them. “He pretty much stuck with a paper trail.”

  Guy gave the bulletin boards a meaningful glance. “So I’ve heard. He’s been gone quite a few years.”

  “I’m comfortable,” Oliphant said. He could have sounded belligerent, but didn’t. “I like my habits and I like being in familiar surroundings. Fuzzo threatened to clear off the boards, but he only mentioned it once.” Oliphant let his meaning hang there.

  “Kevin.” Few people knew Oliphant’s first name, let alone used it. Guy had decided this was the time for intimacy. “You’d have done anything for Bob and I reckon you still would if you thought there was a reason.”

  Oliphant finished his brandy and poured more. He didn’t offer the bottle to his visitors. He also didn’t give Guy an answer.

  “It must have shocked you when you found out he was involved with Zinnia. But, I can understand it. She’d had a rough time and he was an empathetic guy. Also, his marriage was in name only by then and Zinnia was beautiful and on her own. I’m glad they found some happiness together.”

  Oliphant kept his mouth shut.

  “I expect you heard Zinnia was murdered yesterday.”

  Oliphant jerked upright and stared. “For God’s sake, no.” He got up and paced around the room. “I was out sick with stomach flu. Only been in an hour today. When did she die? How?”

  “In the bathtub off her bedroom in that flat where she lived. He put her in the bathtub and slit her throat—turned on the water—for effect, I suppose. She was underwater when we got in there.” Guy thought a minute. He glanced at Nat, who nodded. “Her tongue was cut out. Since someone may have found out we were on our way to talk to her, we figure the tongue was a message to us.”

  Oliphant pulled his lips back from his teeth. He turned his back. “So it’s over now,” he said. “The girl, Zinnia, the ex-husband and Bob. Put to bed, God help them all.”

  “How can you say that?” Guy asked. “Someone was responsible for each of those deaths except Bob’s. And you could make an argument that he may have died as a result of what some crazy set out to do to the others. Did he love Zinnia?”

  Oliphant leaned forward to study his shoes. “What harm can it do now? They loved each other. Bob wasn’t the kind of man to spread himself around. He suffered a lot emotionally. That probably helped kill him. He still cared for Mary, his wife, but she never forgave him for bein’ a cop—even though that’s what he was when they married—and she gradually froze him out. I liked Mary but she didn’t know when to quit. She convinced herself she could persuade him to get out of the force, but it was the only work he knew, the only job he wanted to do. He felt he was making a difference.”

  “Bob was a good cop,” Guy said. “I did his scut work some years ago and he was fair. Help us, Kevin. Give us any information you’ve got. The chief told us not to go near Mary Fleet, but there could be something she knows that would help.”

  Oliphant thought about that. “I think he removed every reference to Zinnia, and to Paula Hemp because he wanted to keep them out of something he knew damn well was dangerous and real nasty. The girl got pulled into some sex ring where rich men from overseas came here and bought young girls. Somehow Paula got away, but the finks had to make sure she didn’t talk out of school, so they killed her. Zinnia and Pip Sedge found her in her own bed. Stone cold and with parts of her body severed but laid where they should have been. No parent should have to see that.”

  Guy already knew a good deal of this even if there were a couple of inconsistencies, but he let Oliphant get it off his chest. “Poor devils,” he said. “So pointless.”

  “Did Mary Fleet marry again?” Guy asked.

  “Nah. Mary’s a one-man woman and for her, that was Bob Fleet.” He produced a tissue and blotted his mustache. “Bob didn’t meet Zinnia until after Paula was killed and he was on the case—he’d want to be sure you knew that. It wasn’t talked about but Zinnia and Pip were already separated. Mary lives in the house she and Bob shared and she does okay. I check up on her from time to time and make sure she doesn’t go short of anything.”

  This announcement surprised Guy but he kept his mouth shut.

  “Help us out, will you, Kevin?” Nat asked, his face troubled. “We need all the help we can get, but only from someone in the know. If you came with us to Mary’s, she’d be more likely to relax with us.”

  “Look,” Oliphant said. “I don’t think you’re going to get anything out of her, but I guess you need to try. Here’s the deal.
If she starts to close up, or gets upset, you lay off.”

  “Well—”

  “Those are my terms,” he said. “And she shouldn’t be rushed.”

  “Whatever you say,” Guy said, and hoped he’d be able to stick with the promise. “I’d like it if you were there with us.”

  Oliphant didn’t looked too enthusiastic, but he nodded. He bowed his head. “I tried to get him to open up to the chief about the case. Killin’ that girl didn’t make any sense. It seemed to be a warnin’. Bob wanted to be the Lone Ranger on this one. I’ll do what I can—but I won’t stand by while anyone drags Bob’s reputation in the mud. He was a fine detective.”

  “I know he was,” Guy said sincerely. He didn’t add that he’d already caught Oliphant in a lie, even if it wasn’t a big one. It was true that Bob Fleet liked to keep a hard copy of everything, but Bob Fleet had been the one everyone came to when they had computer problems. He’d been more comfortable with change than most of the officers.

  Nat said, “Bob sure was a damn good detective. We could use him now but you get the duty instead, Kevin.”

  One of the clerks from reception raced into the office, landing a perfunctory rap on the door as she passed. “’Scuse me, Oliphant. Don’t miss this, Nat,” she said, turning on the dusty-screened TV, and flipping through channels. She pulled a sleeve over one hand and swiped at the screen. “They said something about a report on a killing in the Quarter yesterday. They went to a break, then it’ll be on. A Mrs. Zinnia Sedge who made fabulous wedding dresses. Her daughter was murdered some years back. There are appeals for new information all over the papers and on TV today. It’s what you’re working on now, isn’t it?”

  She tossed an open copy of the Times on Oliphant’s desk and a full-page ad showed Paula’s high school photo.

  He shifted to the front of his chair and braced his hands on his knees. A news anchor gave the information on Paula’s death and asked the informant who came forward to help again. The anchor quickly switched to the killing of Zinnia Sedge.