by Kylie Brant
“What do you want now?”
Cruz pushed the door open with one hand and walked through, forcing Dirk to fall back or be run over. With the other he held out the search warrant. “The pleasure’s mutual, Cantoney. We heard you’ve been having some real interesting meetings lately, and that you have something kind of special stashed here.” He turned his head to address Madeline. “Okay, go ahead.”
They had discussed their strategy in the car on the way over and she went immediately to work. Taking some clear rubber gloves from her pocket, she pulled them on. Then she crossed the room, opened a door and entered a bedroom.
“Hey! Get out of there!” Cantoney lunged after her, but Cruz put out an arm at the last moment and stopped him. He stuffed the warrant into the man’s hand. “Better take a look at this. You can read, can’t you? Everything’s in order.” Cruz’s eyebrows rose only slightly when Dirk tore the paper to bits. “Doesn’t matter,” he said mildly. “There are copies, you know.”
“You’ve got no grounds for this, Martinez,” Cantoney snarled.
“Apparently the judge thought otherwise,” Cruz answered. The two men stared at each other for a long moment fraught with tension, then slowly, imperceptibly, Cantoney drew back.
“Go ahead,” he invited insolently. “And while you and the broad are busy, I’ll be calling my lawyer.”
“Good move,” Cruz retorted. “You’ll probably need one before we’re through.”
Sounds drifted from the open doorway Madeline had disappeared into, and both men walked toward the door.
“Take it easy in there, lady,” Cantoney advised. “If there’s any damage, I’ll be reporting it.” After a second he added, “Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for, sweetheart, I can help you.” He cupped himself lewdly. “Or you can help yourself.”
Fingers curled unconsciously into his palms, Cruz sent the man a look laced with deadly intent. “Seems to me you have enough to worry about, Cantoney. Don’t push it.” His voice was even, but the warning was implicit.
Madeline turned and approached them then. Their gazes caught and Cruz asked a question with his eyes. She answered with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Cruz stepped back to let her pass, but she had to brush by Cantoney to do so. Cruz’s eyes narrowed as he noted the way the other man positioned himself.
Madeline caught the look and recognized the threat. She stifled a sigh. That would be all she needed this morning, to have to referee a brawl. In an attempt to redirect Cruz’s attention, she suggested, “Why don’t you start in the living room?”
Not waiting for his answer, she opened the next door and began to search that bedroom. Cruz walked into the living room and started checking cushions on the furniture. Cantoney looked from Madeline to Cruz. Apparently deciding that she was less of a threat, he followed Cruz into the living room, objecting strenuously as he went through drawers and cupboards of the entertainment center. Cruz turned on the TV and Blu-Ray player to check that they indeed worked, and were not being used as dummy storage compartments.
“Watch it, Martinez,” Cantoney growled. “That’s state-of-the- art stuff. I don’t got no Disney movies, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Ignoring him, Cruz moved through the room, carefully checking any area large enough to store the gun.
“What happens when you and the broad don’t find whatever it is you’re looking for, huh, cop? Then will you get the hell out of here?”
Cruz spared him hardly a glance. “Then we’ll start all over.” The man’s curse was interrupted when Madeline came out of the bathroom.
“Looks like you’ll be going downtown with us, Dirk,” she said. She was holding an AK-47 in her gloved hands.
“Great,” Cruz said in satisfaction. “Where’d you find it?”
“Above the ceiling tiles in the bathroom.” With her free hand she extracted a plastic evidence bag from her purse and placed the gun inside it. Sealing the bag, she pulled off the gloves and stuffed them back in her pocket.
“You bitch!” Cantoney started toward her, but Cruz blocked the man’s path. “She planted the damn thing there. I never seen it before.”
“Save it for your lawyer,” Cruz advised in a bored tone. “He’s probably used to fairy tales. Assume the position, Cantoney.”
Still muttering curses, the man spread both hands out against the wall, feet splayed. Cruz searched him quickly, finding nothing. Standing, he grasped the man’s arms and cuffed his hands behind him, advising him of his rights.
Madeline watched all of this as if from a great distance. Instead of feeling the excitement and satisfaction she should be experiencing at getting closer to solving the case, her mind was playing tricks on her. For a split second she could visualize a similar scene with Cruz on the other end of this action, Cruz being led away wearing cuffs. She pushed the mental image aside, shaken.
It took longer than expected to get Cantoney booked and the paperwork for his arrest filed. When it was finished, Cruz stopped the young officer who was about to lead him away. Addressing Cantoney, he said, “You could make things a lot easier on yourself if you’d cooperate. We might be able to manage a deal for you if you were willing to tell us where you got the gun.”
Cantoney laughed, an ugly sound. “Ready to do me favors now, Martinez? I don’t think so. My lawyer will have me out of here in a few hours.”
“With your record, things are going to go hard for you,” Madeline put in. “It would look a lot better to a judge if you’d tell us what we want to know.”
“I know how things work better than you do,” he retorted. “And I’ll take my chances with jail. I kinda like the idea of staying alive.” He turned away, and after several more moments Cruz motioned for the officer to take him away.
They discussed Cantoney’s words on the way to Andersen Steel. “Whoever sold that gun to Cantoney has him scared to death,” Cruz said disgustedly.
“Well, that fits with what we learned on the streets,” she reminded him. “Nobody wanted to talk to us about Valdez.” She wondered if it was Valdez himself who had everybody so afraid, or his partners in the gun ring. Surely word had reached the streets about the snitch who was found dead. It would serve as a grim reminder to anyone who might otherwise be persuaded to tell what he knew.
“Well, maybe one good thing came out of this day. Ramsey should be safe now.”
“Assuming we got there before Dirk was able to wipe off the gun and get Ramsey’s prints on it,” Madeline agreed. “Otherwise we’ll have another set of problems to deal with.”
“Can I interest you in a late lunch?” Cruz asked. “I’ll let you choose. You can take me to the greasiest dive in the city, and I won’t complain, promise.”
She ignored his teasing and shook her head. “Let’s skip it. I want to get to Andersen Steel before the office closes.”
Cruz opened his mouth to argue, then, with a sidelong glance at her set expression, he fell into silence. He’d never seen Maddy quite like this before. She was drawn tightly, as if it would take only a slight nudge to cause an explosion. He was familiar with what adrenaline did to people, and certainly it had been pumping through both of them today. But somehow he thought it was more than that. She’d been tense when he first saw her this morning, but she was wound even tighter now. Maybe he’d better back off for a while. He wasn’t certain exactly what was bothering her, and that uncertainty teased his mind. He could accept her explanation from this morning. He hadn’t liked it, but knowing what he did about her, he could accept it. Now, though, he was getting the strangest feeling that something else was at work here, something more than she’d admitted to, and worrying about what it might be kept him silent the entire drive.
Madeline spoke only to give him directions. She was distracted, her mind working overtime. With the arrest of Cantoney, she felt more than relief that they had very probably saved Ramsey from years locked away. There was something more. Somehow she felt that they were closer to solving the
whole thing, but there were still so many angles to figure out. Where did a cop fit into the gun supply? Why would the people they’d talked to on the streets be reluctant to talk about a dirty cop? Few of them had reason for loyalty to the police. It would make more sense that they would be willing to give up any information that would put a cop away. Unless…
Her gaze slid to the man beside her. Unless the wrong cop was doing the asking. She considered that thought. Suppose a few of the people they’d questioned had known an officer was involved, and recognized that same officer investigating the case. Wouldn’t that make them wary? Wouldn’t that frighten them into keeping their mouths closed?
She couldn’t deny the possibility, any more than she could deny her reaction to it. It would help if she knew just where the officer came in to the gun distribution setup. Were he and Valdez working together? Or was the cop buried deeper behind the scenes than that? Perhaps Valdez was merely the distributor. He’d have the contacts on the streets needed to dispose of the guns. Someone else could be getting the guns and masterminding the setup.
The car pulled up to the corporate headquarters for Andersen Steel and they walked into the building. “I don’t doubt that you can tell me who the head of this outfit is,” Cruz said as a uniformed man directed them to the floor of the executive offices.
“His name is Louis Andersen,” Madeline replied, missing the lopsided grin his correct guess brought to his face. “But he’d be in his seventies by now, I think. I’m not sure if he’s still running things or not.”
Upon reaching the fifth floor, they were stopped almost as soon as they left the elevator. “May I help you?” A woman rose from her desk several feet away and approached them, a pleasant expression on her face.
Cruz presented his shield and introduced both of them. “We’d like to speak to Mr. Andersen, please.”
“Please wait here,” the woman advised. They watched as she knocked on a nearby door and disappeared inside.
“Nice digs,” Cruz murmured, taking in the plush carpeting and polished walnut furniture.
The woman returned and said, “Mr. Andersen will see you now.”
They followed her to the door she’d recently come from and she ushered them in, then closed it behind them.
A man was seated across the huge room from them at a desk that was easily, Cruz surmised, the size of six police-issue desks at headquarters. The inner office was even more luxurious than the outer room. It was decorated in black and gray, with splashes of crimson for accents. Modern artwork adorned the walls. He studied one that looked as though a large spider had been dipped in black paint and then allowed to crawl across the canvas.
Turning toward the desk, Cruz greeted the man rising behind it then flicked a look at Maddy. If she was right about his age, this man was remarkably well preserved. He didn’t look a day older than forty-five.
“Louis Andersen?” he asked.
The man smiled benignly. “I’m Stephen Andersen, vice president of the firm. Louis is my uncle. I’m afraid he’s unavailable right now. He’s semiretired and doesn’t keep regular hours. How can I help you, Detectives?”
Cruz reached into his shirt pocket, withdrew the picture of Jose Valdez and handed it to Andersen. “We’re looking for this man. He’s been employed by one of your subsidiaries, Wynn Construction. Do you recognize him?”
Andersen studied the picture and then said, “I’m afraid not, but there’s really no reason why I would. Wynn Construction, as well as all our other subsidiaries, is run by a manager. They do their own hiring and firing.”
“Would you have any records of Wynn’s employees here at all?” Madeline pursued. “In your personnel office, or in payroll, perhaps?”
He shook his head. “Payroll and personnel are handled by each individual company. The only records we keep of theirs have to do with the various projects they’re working on, and supply orders. We furnish all the steel they need for their jobs.” He handed the photo back to Cruz. “Can you tell me why you need to find this man? What’s he done?”
“He’s just wanted for questioning,” Cruz replied.
“Well, I’m sure it’s confidential, Detective, but if you know that this man is untrustworthy, I would need to let the manager at Wynn know about it. Crews work with valuable machinery over there all the time.”
“I understand your concern, Mr. Andersen,” Madeline put in. “But as you said, the matter is confidential. Besides, this individual hasn’t shown up for work at Wynn for several days now.”
“I see.” The man was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance to you.”
He walked to the door with them. Reaching it, Madeline turned and questioned, “Does your company have products imprinted with your logo, Mr. Andersen?”
“Yes, we have calendars, pens, yardsticks, key rings, the usual. Seems like the advertising department is always coming up with something new.” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
“Are those items available at the other companies you own, too?” she questioned.
He thought for a moment, and then answered, “I’m sure they are.” He opened the door for them. “You could pick up things with our logo at any of the companies we own.”
Thanking him, they took their leave and rode the elevator to the lobby. Back in the car, Madeline said, “I think we have time to get over to Wynn Construction and talk to the manager there again. I want to ask him-”
But Cruz was shaking his head. “I don’t think so. That’s forty-five minutes from here, without traffic. We’ll have to put it off until tomorrow.”
That didn’t sit well with her, but she quickly came up with another plan. “Why don’t we swing by Ricky and Ramsey’s apartment complex, then? I’d like to tell Ramsey as soon as possible about what happened this morning.” Cruz didn’t answer and she looked across at him quizzically.
Finally he spoke. “I’m going to have to head back to district headquarters and pick up my car. By the time we get there it’ll be quitting time.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “So? It wouldn’t be the first time we put in overtime on this case.”
“Can’t tonight.” His eyes never left the road. “I have an appointment I can’t get out of.”
For a split second she found herself wondering at his obliqueness, before she comprehended what his reluctance meant. “Maybe you could postpone it,” she suggested in a neutral tone. “What is it, a dentist appointment or something? They’ll be glad to reschedule for you. Mine always does.”
“It’s not something I can reschedule,” he said flatly. “But don’t worry. This will keep until tomorrow.”
Madeline stared out her window unseeingly. It was all too obvious that this appointment of his was not something he was willing to explain to her. Were they, as he’d suggested, getting closer to Valdez? If Cruz was involved, he would have to warn Valdez away tonight, at an appointment his partner couldn’t be witness to. Madeline suddenly had plans for the night, too. Perhaps she would finally discover exactly what Cruz Martinez was involved in.
It was with an odd sense of déjà vu that Madeline cautiously tailed Cruz’s car after he left the parking lot of the Southwest Precinct. She drove almost mechanically, staying two car lengths back. The route they took was familiar to her. It came as no surprise that they were headed in the same direction as the only other time she’d had an opportunity to tail him. The difference this time was that he didn’t stop by his apartment first. From that and the speed with which he was driving, it was easy to see that he was in a hurry.
Her hands clenched on the wheel as they neared the neighborhood in which she’d lost him last time. But luck was with her, and after she followed him several more minutes he pulled in to a parking garage. She hesitated for a few moments before warily approaching it. She hadn’t thought about what her explanation would be if Cruz happened to spot her. And that could easily happen in the twisting passages of the garage. They could virtually
drive right by each other.
Her mind searched for a plausible excuse she could use even as she lowered her window and reached for the ticket. The gate rose, admitting her to the shadowy depths of the garage. It was emptying out in a steady trickle, half the cars having already left during the hour of rush traffic. When one small red compact backed out ahead of her, she slid smoothly into the vacated space.
She sat tensely, facing straight ahead, tilting her rearview mirror so that she could see behind her. After what seemed interminably long minutes, she saw Cruz walk briskly by, toward the entrance of the garage.
Poised with her fingers on the handle of the door, Madeline waited for Cruz to turn the corner onto the street before she followed hurriedly after him. She was out of breath by the time she reached the street, but just in time to see him disappear into a building two doors down. Reaching the building, she saw him walk into an elevator. Madeline hurried over to the closed doors and looked at the number above them.
She waited several minutes before taking the elevator to the third floor. The car stopped and its doors slid open, revealing a hallway lined with offices. She looked carefully up and down the passageway before cautiously venturing out. Many of the offices were still lit up, so it was impossible to guess which one Cruz had disappeared into.
Rooting around in her purse, she extracted a notebook. Flipping it open, she began to scribble down the names on the office doors as she passed each one. When she paused in front of one door to write down the name of the firm housed there, it swung open and a man stepped out. Her eyes met his in shock, her breath catching. The next moment she looked down again, pretending to read her notes. The man paid her no heed as he continued down the hall, and she gave a silent sigh of relief. But she knew her luck couldn’t hold. The next person through one of these doors could well be Cruz. She didn’t want to take that chance.