Shoot from the Lip

by Leann Sweeney

  “No. I don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”

  I guessed she didn’t realize my car was sitting in front of her house. “I can take you to a safe place. I have police friends and—”

  “No police.” She was shaking her head vigorously. “Jimmy will find out. He can find out what the cops are doing as easy as that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “All right, what about my place?”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere with you. You said yourself you led a killer straight to Jerry Joe.”

  I sighed. How the hell could I make sure she felt safe? My gut told me she knew more than she realized and I needed to keep picking her brain. But she wouldn’t be much help while she was this afraid.

  “I have a suitcase to pack,” Loreen said, jerking me back to reality.

  “Wait,” I said. “Let me think about ... No, I’ve got it. I have a friend. He’s my boyfriend, as a matter of fact.” She didn’t have to know that he was a cop, too. “He’s big and strong and he’ll protect you.”

  She took a pack of cigarettes from her uniform pocket and stared at them, licking her lips. “I don’t know. That’s a short-term thing. Besides, how would he get me out of here without Jimmy finding out?”

  “See, that’s the problem, Loreen. You need help getting away, and I’m willing to do that.”

  “How?”

  “You have a fence in the backyard?”

  “No.”

  “You could cut through the yard and hit the next block. Jimmy can’t be watching the front and the back of the house at the same time, right?”

  She was turning the cigarette pack over and over. “Then what? This guy picks me up over there?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But he won’t know me, and Jimmy could be—”

  “I’ve got my gun in my car. I’ll walk with you. My friend’s name is Jeff, and he can take you to his place.”

  She stared at me while she considered this. It seemed as if shadows had formed under eyes in the last few minutes. With her too-thin face, the uniform hanging off her like she was a kid wearing her mother’s dress and those dark circles, she looked like she belonged in a concentration camp. But then, maybe that was what her whole life had been like.

  Her gaze returned to the window, and she started pacing again. “I’ve had hundreds of strange men use me, and you want me to go ride off with another one to God knows where?” She’d gotten a cigarette out of the pack and was rolling it between thumb and index finger. “I don’t like this.”

  “It won’t be just you two. His sister lives with him. She’ll come with him to get you.”

  She bit the side of her lip. “For real?”

  “For real. Now let me make the call, okay?”

  She carefully returned the cigarette to the pack and looked at me. “Guess I have no choice. But don’t bother getting your gun. I’m taking mine.”

  24

  When Loreen went to her bedroom to pack a bag, I called Jeff and explained the situation, emphasizing that Loreen did not know he was a cop and would probably shut down on me if she found out. Without asking any questions aside from directions, he said he was on the way. Bless the man. He was as reliable as the sunrise.

  Once Loreen was ready, we went through her tiny, immaculate kitchen and out the back door. I’d noticed the shuttered windows and understood even better how paranoid Loreen was about her past being exposed or Jimmy showing up on her doorstep.

  I took the overnight bag and she held the gun. It was a Smith & Wesson .22—very much like my own .38 Lady Smith. By the way she’d checked the ammo and handled the small handgun, I figured she knew how to use it.

  It was dark when we left the house. I used the flashlight on my key chain to guide us through several yards to the next street over. I heard nothing except a few cooing doves and the distant sound of an ambulance, but Loreen looked over her shoulder and whispered, “Did you hear that?” over and over.

  We reached the sidewalk without drawing attention, and I searched for Jeffs car. I spotted his sea green Altima parked at the end of the block. We hurried to the car and I opened the back door, since Doris was sitting next to Jeff. Loreen climbed in and I breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t balked, as I thought she might. Maybe she was too scared.

  “Hi, Abby. Jeffy says we’re having Pizza Hut pizza when we get home. Get in quick.”

  “I have my own car, Doris. I’ll be there in a little while. This is my friend Loreen. She’ll ride with you.”

  “Hi, Loreen. Jeffy already has Abby for a girlfriend, and you know what that means.” Doris smiled.

  Loreen actually returned the smile. “I do know what that means. I’ll be very careful.” She looked at Jeff then. “Where are we going?”

  He gave her the general location of his apartment, then looked at me. “Abby, remember that problem with your bumper the other day? I know you got it fixed, but check it again before you drive through traffic. I don’t trust that body shop you used.”

  I hadn’t thought to check for another GPS device. “I’ll do that. Now you guys get going. I’ll catch up with you at the apartment.”

  Loreen handed me her gun. “Take this. You shouldn’t walk back to your car without protection. I know Jimmy’s out there.”

  I started to protest, but she insisted.

  I was surprised she didn’t want to keep the gun, since she wasn’t exactly thrilled about this whole arrangement. Must be that some part of her trusted us, and that was a good sign. I stepped back, closed the car door and watched Jeff drive away.

  Rather than take the shorter route through the grass, I chose to stay on the sidewalk to go around the block. I kept the gun tucked into my waistband. Loreen’s paranoia seemed to be contagious, and I stayed alert for any indication that someone was watching or following.

  I made it to the Camry without any trouble. But when I checked under the bumper, I kept the gun ready in my right hand.

  A minute later, damned if I didn’t find another little black box, this time stuck beneath my front bumper. It was different from the other one. Smaller. I wanted to stomp on the thing, smash it into a million pieces, mostly because I’d been played for a fool again. Guess I’d have to put a mirror on a stick and check under my car every time I went anywhere. At least I’d partially learned my lesson by sneaking Loreen out the back way. Good thing I had Jeff thinking for me, since I’d totally screwed up.

  Still steamed, I got into the Camry, locked up and removed the GPS device’s batteries. When I turned the ignition I decided that beating myself up wouldn’t help. I took a few deep breaths and pulled away from the curb. Time to see if I’d learned my lesson about dumping a tail. It would be side streets and running every yellow light for this trip. I wasn’t about to lead a killer to another victim.

  On the way to Jeff’s apartment, I pushed my anger about the tracking devices as far to the back of my mind as possible. I had no clue who had put them on my car, and until I knew, they were only a distraction. Instead, I thought about what I’d learned from Loreen and what it could mean. Where had the extra money for Christine’s trip to Vegas come from? A baby sale? Probably.

  The other money, the cash Christine always seemed to have to buy booze, most likely came from Gloria Wilks—money intended for Emma. But it wasn’t enough to start a new business. Christine had probably gone to whoever took the child she’d given up and asked for the start-up money for the cleaning business. What if that person figured out her requests would never end and killed her? A child you’d raised, probably loved with all your heart, would be a powerful motivator, especially if the child had no idea she was bought or adopted.

  Then there was the infant found under the house. An exchange had obviously been made. But how had this deal been brokered? I didn’t know the answer. I was hoping Loreen had more to share about her relationship with Christine O’Meara, some small something that would piece all this together.

  I arrived at Jeff’s apartm
ent about thirty minutes later than if I’d taken the freeway. Good thing I knew Houston streets. I rapped on the door and Jeff let me in. The smell of pepperoni and pizza crust filled the apartment.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a pizza box in my life.” We joined Loreen and Doris at the card table.

  Loreen had changed out of her uniform into jeans and a T-shirt, Doris had pizza sauce at both corners of her mouth and Jeff must have finished eating, because he was chewing gum.

  I took the GPS device out of my purse and showed Jeff. “DeShay has another toy to play with.”

  “What kind of toy?” Doris said. “Can I see it?”

  “No, Doris, it’s not that kind of toy,” Jeff said. “After Abby’s done eating, we can set up that jigsaw puzzle we bought today.”

  I picked up one of the three slices left in the box and took a bite.

  “What is that thing?” Loreen nodded at my purse, where I’d returned the GPS device.

  “A piece of equipment our friend DeShay—”

  “I know Jeff is a cop.” She glanced at him. “An ex-pro like me can smell a cop a mile away. What is that?”

  “You can smell Jeffy because he smells nice,” Doris said. “He smells like our dad.”

  We all had to smile, and I said, “He does clean up good.”

  “Loreen has a pretty smile like yours, Abby. She said she had a friend like me when she was in school a long time ago. Can you be my friend now, Loreen?”

  Loreen blinked several times and then slowly reached out to Doris, her palm up. “Yeah. I’ll be your friend.”

  But Doris wasn’t about hand squeezes. She got up and wrapped the miniature woman in one of her hugs. Jeff had to put an end to this affectionate gesture or risk Loreen ending up with a few broken ribs. Time for the jigsaw puzzle, I thought, hoping Loreen had forgotten her question. Knowing about the GPS device, knowing I may have been tailed to her house, would make her feel like she’d sat down in a bear trap.

  Loreen did seem to forget, and after only an hour of puzzling, something we discovered Jeff’s sister was quite good at, Doris wanted to watch The Little Mermaid again. She abruptly left us for the DVD player. I guessed her attention span was limited. I’d have to get used to that.

  With Doris occupied, I took Loreen’s gun from my purse, unloaded it and handed her the weapon and the ammo. “Thanks.”

  Loreen put everything in her own bag. She looked tired, but I had been patiently waiting for a chance to finish questioning her about Christine and hoped she didn’t fade on me. Jeff offered her a drink, and while the two of them broke into a bottle of Scotch, I had a Shiner Bock. Hard liquor isn’t for me, and I usually have beer only at Astros games, but I’d forgotten to pick up wine when I did the shopping.

  “Loreen, you’ve been so helpful, but I need to pick your brain a little more,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, I gotta call in sick for tomorrow first. Believe me, that won’t make my boss happy.” She gulped her Scotch. “Phone?”

  “On the kitchen wall,” Jeff said.

  She left us to make her call, and Jeff leaned close. “She’s scared for the wrong reasons, thinks her ex-pimp is the biggest threat. Get that GPS box to DeShay in the morning.”

  Loreen came back to the table. “Guess who’s fired if she’s not at work day after tomorrow?” She took another long swallow of her drink. “Why in hell did I ever write that letter?”

  “Because you wanted to right a wrong,” I said. “Usually that ends up paying off in the end.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not seeing any nice payoff about now.”

  “You can still help Christine’s kids,” I said. “On the drive back here I was thinking about who Christine could have met who had the money to buy her baby—because the cash she had for Vegas could have been payment. You’ve said no one at Rhoda’s seemed like a good candidate, but what about the people you two cleaned for?”

  “Some of them were rich, yeah.”

  “Longtime customers?”

  Loreen rested her elbow on the table and held her head with her hand. “I think so.” She was sounding more tired by the second. “She had this list. Tuesday regulars, Wednesday regulars. She never worked on Fridays or the weekend. Those were her drinking days, and no one interfered with that.”

  “You remember any of these people?” I asked.

  “Everyone we cleaned for worked in the daytime. They left a key and we usually didn’t see them.”

  “How did you know where to go and when? The list?” I asked.

  “Christine kept a notebook with phone numbers, too. I remember because I saw these doodles in there, and I asked Christy if she’d drawn them. She said yeah. She drew people’s faces. Even me. I asked her for the page, but she said she had stuff she needed on the back side. She drew me another one later but I lost it.”

  I thought about the boxes moved out to storage the day of the demolition. Had Emma thrown away this notebook along with the photographs she’d mentioned? “You’re sure you never met any of the clients?”

  “I was helping with more houses by ninety-two, and every now and then someone was home sick or ... Wait. There was this one lady who quit working when she was so pregnant she could hardly walk. I did see her. Vacuumed right around her for three weeks in a row.”

  My heart sped up, and I was thinking how long it had taken me to get this one morsel of information, something Loreen had no way of knowing might be important enough to pull everything together.

  Jeff knew its importance, though, because he said, “Do you remember if you cleaned for this woman around the same time that Christine was pregnant?”

  Loreen looked thoughtful. “She coulda been pregnant, too, now that I think about it. And you know, Christy never took me with her if she went back there, so I never saw that lady’s baby. You think the kid under the house belonged to that woman we cleaned for?”

  “Could be,” I said.

  “And maybe Christy did something to that kid so she could sell her own baby to that lady?” Loreen shook her head vigorously. “I wasn’t there if she did that. You better make sure the cops know—”

  “Chill, Loreen,” I said. “I don’t think you had anything to do with the baby or you never would have written that letter to Reality Check.”

  “Yeah. That’s right,” she said, nodding. “But why didn’t the woman send Christy to jail if she hurt their kid? That’s what any normal person woulda done. I went to jail plenty of times for a lot less than that.”

  “We don’t know if Christine hurt any baby,” I said.

  Jeff nodded his agreement. “Your friend and this woman could have made a baby deal for reasons we haven’t yet figured out, and Christine agreed to keep the secret. Then later she decided to earn some extra money to continue to keep that secret.”

  “Oh, yeah. She’d do that. She was always looking for the big jackpot that never came.” Loreen closed her eyes briefly, then pointed past me. “I’m sorry, but I need to do what she’s doing.”

  I turned and saw Doris lying on the floor in front of the TV. She was sound asleep.

  “Take the bedroom,” Jeff said.

  “I’m not gonna argue,” Loreen answered. She picked up the overnight bag she’d left near the hall entrance and left us alone.

  Jeff took out several sticks of Big Red, then offered me the pack. I accepted, needing to rid my mouth of the taste of beer.

  After he’d chewed his gum for several seconds, he said, “Tell DeShay everything you’ve learned tomorrow. I doubt this notebook is still around, but you said they stored everything from the house, and a search is worth a shot. Maybe Christine kept names as well as phone numbers.”

  “And I could find out if any of those people in the notebook had a baby around the same time as Christine by checking birth records from that year.”

  “Good circumstantial evidence, but that won’t promise a happy reunion for your client. A lot can happen in fifteen years.”

  I put my
hand behind his neck and pulled him close so our lips were almost touching. “You are such a pessimist, you probably never put anything away for a rainy day, ’cause you’re always expecting a drought.”

  He smiled, and we were about ready to exchange gum when my cell rang.

  I saw from the caller ID that it was Aunt Caroline, and groaned.

  “Bet I know who that is.” Jeff picked up our glasses and headed for the kitchen.

  “Better answer or she’ll fill up my voice mail box.” I opened the phone and said hello.

  “Abby, where are you?” she said.

  “Um ... someplace.”

  “I know that much. But you’re not at home, because I’ve driven by three times. You need to get over here now.”

  “It’s late. What can I do for you?” I asked.

  “I have something of dire importance to share with you. Please come over.”

  Everything with her is always of dire importance, but I tried to sound nice when I said, “Can we do this in the morning?”

  She was silent for a good ten seconds, and I knew I’d pissed her off. “If you don’t care about your sister ruining her life, then fine.”

  “What are you talking about?” But, of course, this had to be about Clint Roark.

  “This man she’s seeing is not who he says he is, and I have proof.”

  She’d hired a detective to follow Jeff when I first started dating him, and this sounded like she was up to her old tricks. “If you’re talking about the man’s ex-wife and son, Kate knows about them.”

  “It’s not a son. It’s a daughter. And his name is not Clinton Roark. It Harrison Foster.”

  Now she had my attention. “What have you done, Aunt Caroline? You haven’t told Kate about this, have you?”

  “No, nothing like that. We need to face her with the facts together. Two voices are better than one, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Let me sleep on this and come over to your place tomorrow morning around ten and you can tell me what you’ve got. Then we can talk to Kate.” That would at least give me a little time to find out about this man myself and why he chose to use a fake name—if, in fact, Aunt Caroline had this right.