by Gerri Hill
“Yes, ma’am. Down the alley.”
“Thanks.” She walked on, then stopped. “Crime lab?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, they’ve been notified. And the ME.”
“Okay, thanks.” She glanced at Leslie with a half-smile. “I’ve never done a scene without Hunter or Sikes,” she explained. “That’s the first thing Hunter always asks.”
“We’ll be fine.”
But as soon as they reached the alley, they stopped, both covering their mouths as the sweet, putrid smell of death hit them. “Jesus,” Casey murmured. She looked at one of the patrol officers. “What the hell?”
“Been dead a few days.”
“I’ll say.” Her gaze followed where he pointed, just a lump beneath a blanket. “Who found him?”
“One of the clubs was taking out trash. Smelled him.”
“Is this a hangout?” Leslie asked, looking around. “There are a lot of boxes broken down.”
“Yeah. A lot of the homeless sleep here,” he said. “They disappear during the day.”
“Any of them around?”
“Yeah, they scattered when we showed up, but we talked to a few.”
“This guy got a name?” Casey asked as she walked closer, moving the blanket aside with her foot.
“Depending on who you ask, it’s either Rudy or Bobby.”
She let the blanket fall and stepped back. “Damn, his throat’s been cut.” She looked at Leslie. “Let’s see if we can find anyone who’ll talk to us.”
“There’s a couple of guys standing down at the end.”
But when they headed their way, the guys took off.
“Hey, wait up. We just have a some questions,” Casey called as she chased after them. They caught up to them on the street. “Hey, man. Just a few questions.”
“Don’t want no trouble.”
“There’s no trouble,” Casey assured him. She motioned to Leslie with her head, who went after the second guy. “You sleep out here?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
Casey looked him over, guessing his age to be about sixty or so, but knowing the street aged you. His hair and beard, both dirty and matted, were showing gray. His clothes were old and torn, his coat nearly in shreds. “Did you know him?”
The man shrugged.
“Know his name?”
“Rudy.”
“Was that his normal spot?”
The man nodded.
Casey tilted her head. “And I don’t guess you know who killed him?”
“Don’t know nothing.”
“How long’s he been dead?”
The man closed his eyes and Casey imagined him counting. He opened his eyes again. “Three days.”
“Friday night?”
He leaned closer and Casey tried not to back away from his smell. “You don’t never know what day it is on the streets.”
Casey finally took a step back and the man did the same. “If you knew he was dead, why didn’t anyone tell the police?”
“Don’t want no trouble.”
“Do you think maybe he had something someone wanted? Money? Booze?”
The man shook his head. “If you score, you don’t come back here until it’s gone.”
“Where do you eat?”
“At the shelter.”
“Did Rudy go there?”
“Most days.”
“Did he have a fight with someone? Was someone harassing him?”
The man took another step back. “Don’t know nothing.”
Casey leaned closer. “Who are you afraid of?” she asked quietly.
The man looked around them quickly, then shook his head. “Don’t know nothing.”
He turned to go and Casey let him. Whatever he did know, he wasn’t telling. She looked down the street, finding Leslie. She was still talking to her guy and Casey took the opportunity to watch her unobserved. Tall, she was dressed similarly in jeans and lightweight boots, her dark hair windblown and unruly. Casey nodded. She fit in. The first couple of days, she’d worn pressed slacks and fancy loafers. But now, she’d taken her cue from her and Tori, dressing for the streets, not the office. As she stared, Leslie turned, catching her. Their eyes met for a quick moment, then Leslie jotted down something on her notepad before heading her way.
Casey waited, finally raising her eyebrows when Leslie got closer.
“Bobby.”
Casey smiled. “Mine said Rudy.”
Leslie shrugged. “Okay, so Rudy Bobby it is.” She glanced at her notes. “He’d been around here the better part of a year. No fights with anyone, no enemies. Kept to himself. He’s been dead a couple of days.”
“Yeah, about what I got.” Casey looked around the street, seeing several people watching them. “So, what does your gut tell you?”
“That he knows who did it and he’s scared to tell.”
Casey stared at her, again meeting her eyes head on. “Funny, that’s what my gut says too.”
“Another homeless man? Someone they see every day?”
“Most likely.” She took a deep breath. “But we’ll never get them to talk. They don’t trust cops. If the killer was some stranger off the street, they’d come forward. They would have reported the murder. But not this. Not when it’s one of their own.”
“They’ll just move on?”
“Yeah. Those who know what happened, they’ll find another place to sleep. They don’t want any trouble.” Casey headed back down the alley. “Let’s go to the shelter. Maybe someone there will talk to us. If there was some kind of turf war going on, they’d know about it.”
But even there, they seemed nervous, unwilling to talk. Casey finally lost her temper after the fourth person told them he didn’t know anything.
“Look, cut the crap, okay,” she told him. “I’m in no goddamn mood for games. We know he came here to eat, so you know who the hell we’re talking about.”
But the man still shook his head. “No. There are so many. I don’t know him.” He glanced around him quickly. “Come back tomorrow. You ask for Maria.”
He hurried away from them and Casey shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Whatever happened to the good old days where a cop could ask a simple question, get a simple answer, and arrest the bad guy?”
Leslie smiled. “TV.”
Casey tilted her head, watching Leslie as her fingers threaded through her hair, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “It’s nearly ten thirty. Ready to call it a night?”
Leslie followed her outside, pausing on the street. “Should we follow up with Spencer or Mac?”
“No. They won’t work this until tomorrow. Besides, if they find something, they’ll call,” Casey said as they made their way back to her truck.
The drive back to the squad room was done in silence. Casey glanced a few times at Leslie, who simply stared out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. Casey started to ask several times what she was thinking about, but she managed to curb her curiosity for once. She pulled up beside Leslie’s car and cut the engine. They sat still for a moment, then Leslie turned in her seat, facing her.
“About earlier,” she said. “I enjoyed our talk.” She looked up, meeting Casey’s eyes. “Thank you for telling me about yourself. I hope I didn’t pry too much.”
Casey shook her head. “No. No, it’s okay.”
“Good. Because I really want us to be friends. My other partners, they were always men, always older. We never really had a relationship other than work.”
Casey shifted in her seat too, turning toward Leslie, whose face was hidden by the shadows. “It’s funny. I’ve always gotten along with my partners, considered them friends, but if I think about it, we were just friends on the surface really. There’s not a single one of them I’d ever have told my life story to. I knew them and their families, but I guess they never really knew me.”
Leslie surprised her by leaning closer and pulling her near for a quick hug. “Thanks for trusting me.”
Casey nodded mutely, staring as Leslie opened the door and got out.
“See you tomorrow, O’Connor.”
Casey flashed a quick smile, waiting until Leslie had her car started before pulling away. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, moving into traffic without thinking, her mind still focused on the quick hug. And the unique smell of Leslie’s perfume.
Leslie hit the expressway and eased into traffic, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.
Why did you have to hug her? Jesus!
Why indeed?
“I like her.”
Yes, Casey was that type of person. Who wouldn’t like her? But a hug? You don’t just hug. People don’t just hug anymore.
She wondered what Casey thought of her. First, she pried into her personal life, practically dragging out her painful memories. Then she has to go and hug her.
I like to touch, she reminded herself. A curse, but yes, she’d always been that way. When she felt comfortable with someone, when she felt affection, she touched them when she talked. And for some reason, when she was near Casey, she simply felt drawn to her.
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leslie turned, her gaze lingering as Casey bounded into the squad room, her energy level a bit elevated it seemed. She stopped beside Leslie’s desk, her eyes twinkling.
“For the beautiful lady, a mocha with extra whipped cream.” She winked as she pulled a coffee cup from her bag. “I flirted with the coffee girl, got it for free,” she teased.
“Aren’t you sweet? Having to flirt with cute teenagers for my whipped cream. Must have been painful,” Leslie said with a laugh.
Tori snorted and rolled her eyes.
“She’s a freshman in college, thank you very much.” She turned, “And for the old sourpuss, cappuccino,” she said, handing Tori her cup.
“Thanks, cradle robber.”
“Ah, you’re just jealous, old lady,” Casey shot back. She turned to John. “And for my favorite straight boy,” she said, handing him his coffee. She made an exaggerated show of trying to hide it as she slid a pastry across his desk.
“Sweet.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no, O’Connor. No fair. You can’t bring a pastry for one and not for all. You know the rules,” Tori said, glaring first at Casey, then at Sikes as he bit down into the fresh pastry with a groan. “How the hell did Sikes rank a pastry?”
“He’s my boy.”
“Boy toy, maybe,” Tori muttered, causing Casey to laugh.
“Here you go, sweet pea. I got one for everybody, I’m just messing with you.” She tossed one to Tori, then placed another in front of Leslie. “I love doing that to her. She gets so riled up.”
“Shut up, O’Connor.”
“Damn, you’re cranky this morning, Hunter. Didn’t get any last night or what?”
Leslie nearly spit her coffee out at the glare Tori shot across the desk, which only caused more laughter from Casey and John. Her smile vanished as Tori turned her scowl in her direction.
“Oh, Hunter, don’t try to scare the new kid.” Casey squeezed her shoulder, then leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for Tori to hear. “She’s all bark, no bite.” Leslie laughed again as Casey blew an exaggerated kiss to Tori.
“What the hell’s wrong with you this morning, O’Connor? You get laid finally?”
“I wish.” She moved to her own desk. “No. It’s just a beautiful day and I’m happy. Besides, I’ve had three cups of coffee and I’m just a little wired.”
“Just a little,” Leslie agreed, then turned as Lieutenant Malone walked behind her.
“Tucker? Got a minute?”
Leslie nodded. “Of course.” She stood, wondering what was up. She glanced at Casey who simply shrugged.
“Come on in. Sit,” Malone said, closing the door behind her.
She waited as he sat down behind his desk, her hands clutched together nervously as she tried to think if she’d done something wrong. She took a deep breath. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?”
“Oh, no. No, no, nothing like that.” He smiled and leaned on his desk, his hands folded together on top of a file. “But it’s your second week. I just wanted to check on things, see how it’s going.”
She frowned. “Going?”
“I mean, you know, you and Casey, is that gonna work out okay?”
“Oh.” Leslie relaxed. “Yes, of course. Casey’s been great. We get along fine. I don’t see a problem, Lieutenant.”
“Good, good.” He opened his hands, tapping his index fingers together. “It’s changed since Casey’s been here.” He looked out the window. “She keeps things light, always in a good mood. Keeps Tori in line, that’s for sure.”
“Yes. They seem like good friends. I had heard stories about Hunter, of course. Everyone has. She’s nothing like I imagined.” She saw the affectionate smile cross Malone’s face.
“No, she’s changed. Sam did that.” He looked at her. “Do you know Kennedy?”
She nodded. “I had dinner with them one night. She’s very nice.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Casey invited me to join them.”
“I see.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I thought you were…well, engaged.”
“I am.”
“To a man,” he added quickly.
She laughed. “Yes, to a man. Is there a problem?”
“No, of course not. It’s just—”
“They were all very nice. I think Casey and Tori were just trying to include me, that’s all.”
“Good. Times have changed, that’s for sure. A few years ago, before Kennedy, there was no socializing among the detectives. I don’t think any of them could stand each other’s company that long,” he said, rubbing his bald head. “Everyone is tight now. Sikes and Tori even. I like that.”
“So do I.”
He stood up then. “Well, I just wanted to touch base with you, make sure everything was fine.” He looked out the window again, then back at her. “We’re very open around here. If you have a complaint, a concern, you can come to me.” He smiled sincerely. “Okay?”
She nodded, still confused by his questions. When she got back to her desk, the others were silent, staring at her. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“So, Tucker,” Casey said in a low voice, mimicking Malone. “Everything going okay with you? You think it’s going to work out? I mean, you got to watch O’Connor. She thinks she’s a chick magnet. Don’t trust her.”
Leslie laughed.
“And that Sikes, don’t turn your back on him He’ll chase anything in a skirt.”
John laughed but threw a pen at her. Suddenly, his smile vanished. So did Leslie’s as she heard Malone clear his throat. Casey turned several shades of red as she looked at him.
“Christ! Who’s supposed to have my back here?”
There was a moment of silence, then Malone chuckled. “You’re getting better, O’Connor. That was pretty good.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said weakly.
He walked closer. “Now, what about this homeless man?”
Casey ran her hands through her hair twice. “Yeah. Yes, sir. The homeless guy. Well—”
“She’s had too much caffeine,” Leslie said, coming to her rescue. “We went by the shelter last night, but couldn’t find anyone willing to talk. We’re going to head back there this morning.” She looked to Casey for confirmation, who nodded. “We only have a street name so far.”
“What homeless man?” Tori asked.
“Last night while we were out,” Casey explained. “He’d been dead a few days. One block off of Elm.”
“Deep Ellum?”
“Yeah.”
“Natural?”
“Oh, no. Throat was cut.”
“Good luck with that. They don’t talk to cops.”
“Yeah, we found that out,” Leslie said. “Even the people working the shelter wouldn’t talk.”
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“That means one of their own is the killer,” Tori said. “A homeless kills a homeless, they won’t talk.”
Leslie and Casey exchanged glances.
“Well, see what the post reveals. Maybe Mac’s team found something,” Malone said. “Don’t just let this one slip through your fingers. A homicide is a homicide.”
Casey nodded. “Yes, sir.” She watched him go, then turned to the others. “I can’t believe you let me get busted,” she said under her breath.
Tori laughed. “Serves you right, hotshot.”
“Maybe I should stick with juice in the morning.”
“Maybe you should limit yourself to one cup.”
She stood. “All right, Tucker. Time to work.”
“I’m ready,” she said as she drank the last of her coffee. She’d only eaten half of her pastry. She looked at Casey with raised eyebrows. “Want it?”
“Yeah, bring it. We’ll fight over it on the way over.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Tori said. “What about last night? The apartments.”
“Nothing,” Leslie said. “I’ve got a log set up on the spreadsheet I made. I’ll update it this afternoon, then you can take it with you tonight.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Catch up with you guys later,” Casey said. Leslie was surprised to feel Casey’s hand lightly touching the small of her back as they walked away. The hand disappeared quickly and she smiled. Most likely, Casey wasn’t even aware she’d been touching her. At the doors, Casey opened them, holding them as Leslie passed through.
“You don’t have to always do that, you know.”
“Sorry. Habit.” Casey laughed. “I’ll let you be the guy tomorrow.”
“No, no. You’re good at it. I don’t mind.”
Casey paused at the door to her truck. She unlocked it, then pulled out her cell. “Let me check with Mac first. See if they worked it yet.”
Leslie got inside, wondering if she should volunteer her car for a change. In Fort Worth, they always took the departmental issued cars, never their own. Even when she worked Assault, it was rare for them to use their own vehicles.
Casey got in and closed the door, starting it quickly and turning on the air. “Sorry, I know it’s hot.”
“Calendar says September.”