Girls With Guns

by Ali Vali

  She shook her head and turned off the engine. “I’m not leaving here until you do.”

  She wanted me to ask her why, engage in whatever game she was playing, but I didn’t have the energy. Best thing to do in these situations is walk away and hope the other party gives up. I didn’t usually turn my back on someone set on provoking me, but I wasn’t afraid of this chick. I snapped my fingers at Cash and started toward the bar. I made it about five steps before I realized he hadn’t followed me, and when I turned to see what was up, his betrayal broke my heart. Cris had her hand on either side of his face and was fucking cooing into his ear. As if her crazy public display of affection wasn’t bad enough, he was shoving his head into the palms of her hands in his classic don’t-ever-stop-petting-me motion. Traitor.

  “Cash, come here right now.”

  “That’s a weird name for a dog.”

  “Buzz off.”

  “I’m serious,” she said. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what you’re up to. If you don’t have a good explanation, I’ll report you to the judge.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Her eyes closed into half slits and she shook her head again, but this time it was in that you’re-a-moron kind of way. I so didn’t have time for this. “Speak,” I said. “You’ve got about five seconds before I lose my patience,” I lied. I’d lost my patience the minute I’d seen her sitting in the parking lot.

  “Don’t you threaten me. I’m not the one violating the judge’s orders. We’re supposed to listen to the evidence that’s presented in court. We’re definitely not supposed to be investigating the crime on our own.” She pointed at the door to the bar. “What exactly did you hope to find in there?”

  Now I was completely confused. I followed the direction of her outstretched arm and squinted at the bar door. The neon sign above the entrance read Leroy’s, but just below that, in ancient letters and numbers, was another sign with the address of the building. 3504 Ledbetter. It was the address on the matchbook in the packet from Cantoni’s pals, but a faint spark of recognition told me I knew that address from some other source.

  I looked from Cris to the door and back again. Her expression told me she was waiting for me to stop being stupid, and I was trying hard. 3504 Ledbetter…South Dallas…Seedy little bar. Shit. Memories from the testimony I’d heard earlier in the day slowly swam through the murky water of my mind. Suddenly I knew exactly where I was, but I still couldn’t wrap my brain around it. “But the bar where the shooting happened was called Eddie’s.”

  “That’s what it used to be called,” Cris said. “The place changed owners late last year, and they changed the name.”

  Either she’d done a little research of her own or I’d dozed during that part of the trial. I didn’t bother to ask which. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m meeting someone here.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Right.”

  “Well, what’s your excuse for being here, little miss professional juror?”

  She looked around, her eyes darting like a scared rabbit, before she whispered, “I heard you. On the phone. Talking about checking things out here.”

  I had to give her points for being crafty because I didn’t have a clue anyone had been spying on me. “And you just decided to follow me here? What was your endgame? Call the cops and tell them I was being a bad juror?” She opened her mouth to respond, but I held a palm up while I rubbed a mental itch until a better question popped into my head. “Wait a minute. Who was in the other car?”

  “What other car?”

  I waved her off while I cycled through the facts. Someone had followed me from my house but then ditched when they saw Cris’s Subaru on my tail. The first car was probably full of folks thinking I was leading them to Perez. “Never mind.”

  “Well, what’s your plan?” Cris asked, persistent little cuss.

  “Like I’m going to tell you.”

  “Okay then.” She puffed up big, which almost made me laugh, since at her normal height she was no taller than my chest. “I’ll have to tell Judge Bowser you were here and you refused to answer any questions.”

  I’d had enough. I reached out and grabbed her car keys from her hand. Before she could react, I whistled to Cash, my formerly loyal dog, and we stalked off to the Subaru. As I slipped into the driver’s seat, I yelled back to Cris. “You coming or what?”

  Surprise didn’t begin to describe her expression. She ran toward the car and jumped into the passenger side. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You want to investigate something, then you’re coming with me.” I started the faux station wagon and peeled out of the parking space. I’d come back here later when I didn’t have a pesky peer in tow. In the meantime, I was headed back to Shorty’s, but this time in a car no one would recognize. Fred’s shifty behavior last night had festered, and I had a feeling she knew more than she was letting on about Perez’s activities. After the sharp-pointed send-off I’d received when I was there last, I figured having company on this trip was the best way to disguise my real intent. Cash and Cris would make for a nice distraction.

  I turned onto the main road and pointed the car toward Shorty’s. As Cash leaned his head on my shoulder, his gentle panting told me he was excited, but a glance at Cris’s sour face told me she thought she’d been hijacked. I mock-punched her shoulder. “Cheer up.”

  “Cheer up?” Her voice rose. “I don’t have a clue where we’re going. For all I know you’re going to dump me on the side of the road and leave me for dead.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re like five minutes from the city and I’m betting you have a cell phone. Even if I’m stealing your car, you can get help to respond pretty damn quick. Following me tonight was ballsy. What happened to your sense of adventure?”

  “Please don’t hurt me. I have a wife and a son.”

  “A wife, huh? Does she know you’re out on the town, playing law and order? And why should I believe you were following me to Leroy’s? Maybe you were there investigating the case for yourself.”

  She shook her head furiously, and I could tell by the bright light of denial in her eyes there was no way she would break the law on purpose. I held back a laugh. The night was young.

  *

  Shorty’s was busier tonight. Fred had a pal behind the bar, slinging ice into glasses and flipping the tops off beer bottles. I marched Cris and Cash past a different bouncer than the one who’d been here before and led them to a booth in the back of the room. The bouncer put a hand on my arm and pointed to Cash, but I didn’t meet his eyes. “Seeing-eye dog,” I said, barely raising my voice over the din. I didn’t want Fred to notice me until I was ready.

  While we waited for the skimpily dressed cocktail waitress to notice she had a new table, I looked around. At least two dozen folks were drowning their troubles at the bar, the majority of them sitting alone. A group at the pool table was having a lively debate about whether the shooter had scratched the alleged winning shot, and the air was thick with the threat of a fight.

  “What are we doing here?” Cris mustered the courage to ask.

  I ignored her question. “You want a beer?”

  “No. I want to leave.”

  She did look out of place. What she likely considered casual probably cost more than a lot of folks make in a week. Before I could say just that, the waitress appeared and, between smacks of chewing gum, asked for our order. “Two drafts and a bowl of water for my guide dog.”

  She sighed and spun on her too-high-heel shoes. When she was out of earshot, I leaned across the table. “I’m working, and you’re here because you decided to show up and get in the middle of my work. So you’ll drink a beer and pet my dog and otherwise stay out of my way for the rest of the night. Okay?”

  She nodded, but the act seemed almost involuntary. “Can I talk?”

  I started to say no but decided we’d look more like normal bar-goers if we were at least pretendi
ng to have a real conversation. “I guess.”

  “Are you on the hunt?”

  I closed my eyes and looked for patience. “On the hunt? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She wriggled in her seat. “Well, I don’t know what you call it. You’re a bounty ‘hunter,’ aren’t you?” She left her air quotes hanging until I nodded defeat.

  “Look, this is going to go a lot better for both of us if we talk about something besides my work.”

  Not to be deterred, Cris charged in with her next question. “Are you married?”

  I choked on my beer. “No.”

  “My wife and I’ve been together twenty-one years. We tied the knot in Provincetown. Couldn’t be happier.”

  “Goody for you.” The small talk was making me edgy, but something she’d said struck a chord. “Your last name, it’s hyphenated, right?” She nodded yes. “Who’s the Perez, you or her?”

  “Me. Why?”

  I paused before answering while I thought of a way to trick her into telling me the truth about whether she was kin to the Perez I was here to find. “I didn’t notice them asking you about any cops in your family during jury selection. Is that because you lied on the questionnaire?”

  Her whole face scrunched up, and she shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A big part of my job was listening to people lie: “I didn’t get the notice about the court date”; “I was there, but they didn’t check me in”; “You’re looking for the other Jane Doe. People get us confused all the time.” I’ve become a pro at figuring out when someone’s lying to me. Cris Perez-Soria was telling the truth. “Never mind.”

  She settled back into the seat and was quiet for a few precious moments before her natural desire to irritate me resurfaced.

  “Okay, so you’re not married, but you have a girlfriend, right? She’s a cop?”

  I could keep shaking her off or I could engage just enough to keep her distracted while I cased the bar for signs of Perez. I settled on throwing a few crumbs her way. “She’s a detective, homicide.”

  “Wow, that sounds like a cool job. I spend my days in meetings, planning more meetings, and having my eyes glaze over budgets. Bet the talk around your dinner table is pretty interesting.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, barely registering her comment. I was tracking a woman who’d just entered the bar. She had big blond hair and Jackie-O sunglasses that, while not real practical at nighttime, kind of fit in with the weird, anything-goes vibe of this place. What caught my attention was her dark skin. Didn’t look like a tan job and sure wasn’t soak-up-the-rays weather outside, so she was either wearing a wig or she colored her hair. She walked over to the bar and slid onto the stool closest to the back door. A few seconds later, Fred handed her a drink without a word exchanged between them, dubbing blondie a regular.

  “…keep us late tomorrow night.”

  I looked up at my reluctant companion. She had leaned back in the booth and had one arm slung around Cash. “What?”

  “I asked you what you’re doing for Valentine’s Day. Do you think Judge Bowser will keep us late tomorrow night?”

  I recognized the individual words she spoke, but strung together they were gibberish. Valentine’s Day was a made-up holiday all about dropping a bunch of bills on flowers that died within a week or candy you’d have to run for miles to work off. I’d never engaged in the sport as an adult, and my childhood memories of showing up at school with a sack of tiny cards in their tiny white envelopes were marred by the fact my mom made me take one for everyone in the class, even the kids I couldn’t stand and who couldn’t stand me.

  “What do you have planned?” Cris asked.

  Apparently, she took my silence for permission to grill me about my lack of romantic tendencies. I didn’t care. I shouldn’t care, anyway. Jess didn’t expect anything from me.

  Or did she? The second I thought the words, my memory dialed back to my conversations with Jess over the last twenty-four hours about her special plans for Wednesday night. Her rough reaction to my “I don’t know if I’ll be home any night this week” suddenly made sense.

  But the Jess I knew had never expected candy and flowers from me. I’d watched her cycle through a few relationships over the years, and while she acted like she enjoyed the romantic attention she got from other women, I’d always assumed she was doing what I’d do—playing along to get laid. She didn’t expect me to wine and dine her, did she?

  A sick feeling twisted my gut. Surely she knew I wasn’t going to change who I was just because I’d finally admitted I was in love with her? If she did, then I’d miscalculated this whole thing between us. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. “Nothing. I have nothing planned. And don’t bother telling me all about how you’re going to leave a trail of roses in your house for your wife to follow to the perfect gift, the perfect meal, the perfect flowers. I’m not interested.”

  I punctuated my declaration by pounding my fist on the table, which caused Cash to bark. The sharp sound caused several folks to turn our way, including the faux blonde at the bar. I ducked my head and cursed, certain that if it was Perez, she’d make me in a heartbeat. I counted to ten and risked a glance in her direction just in time to see her slip out the back door, holding a bag she hadn’t had when she’d walked into the bar. I jumped up. “Stay here with Cash. Don’t move until I get back.”

  Cash woofed something to Cris, and she stroked his chin and nodded at me before I took off toward the front door. When I hit the cool night air, I ducked around the side of the building, hoping to get a drop on whatever this chick who might be Perez was up to. When I reached the edge of the building, I could make her out, rooting through the bag she’d carried out of the bar and muttering. I hunkered down next to a drainpipe and watched.

  A minute later, I realized she wasn’t talking to herself. A guy was standing a few feet from her, his presence only revealed when a car drove past and its headlights hit just right. I couldn’t see his face, but I was close enough to make out their conversation.

  “It’s all there.”

  “You better hope so.” Definitely Perez’s voice. “I won’t be back for a while,” she said, “and this has to last.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have come back at all,” the guy said. “Fred says folks have been asking about you.” His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I was way more interested in what Perez had to say.

  “I’m not worried about Luca Bennett. She couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag. The folks I’m worried about don’t have a clue where I am.”

  Bitch. I vowed to give her something to worry about.

  “Go ahead and count it if you don’t trust me,” he told her.

  A few seconds passed with only the light sound of ruffling papers. I envisioned Perez stroking her fingers through a big sack of cash, and the idea she’d get away and have the means to stay gone pissed me off so much I drew my gun and started toward them. I’d made it two steps before a hand grabbed my arm. I twisted out of the grip and yanked the interloper close, shoving the Colt’s muzzle up against his throat as I squinted to get a good look at the jackass who was getting in my way.

  Shit. It was Cris, and standing next to her was Cash, who looked between us like he couldn’t quite decide who needed protecting. To Cris’s credit, she didn’t cry out, but her eyes were wide and pleading. I put a finger on my lips and glared. She nodded, and I lowered the gun but kept her firmly in my grip and whispered, “What the hell part of stay-in-the-bar-and-wait didn’t you understand?”

  “I’m sorry, but I freaked out. The guy, the eyewitness. I saw him walking through the bar when you got up. I looked around inside, but I’m not sure where he went.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “From the trial. Dante. The eyewitness. If he sees us here, we’ll both be in big trouble.”

  Cylinders starting clicking into place, and I motioned for Cris to stay put while I craned my head around the corner. Like
magic, a big-ass truck with a line of lights on the roof drove by and shined its high beams directly on Perez, who was shoving the last stack of bills back into the bag, and the guy who waited for her to sign off on the deal.

  Dante Guzman had lost his fancy courtroom suit and slicked-back hair. Tonight his hair was pulled back into one of those little ponytails that’s hardly worth fooling with, and he was wearing jeans, boots, and an untucked gray T-shirt. Without the collared shirt and tie he’d sported in court, his true identity was revealed, but only for a split second before the truck moved on and darkness enveloped Dante and his pal, Teresa Perez.

  “Luca, did you see that?”

  I looked at Cris, made a zip-it motion, and ducked behind the wall. Any minute now, Perez would be on the run. My decision to drag Cris along on this expedition now seemed like one of the dumber things I’d done, and I wasn’t about to compound it by taking her with me into what might turn into a gunfight. I came up with the best plan I could on the fly and tossed the car keys to her. “Get back in the bar. Now. Don’t stop, don’t look back. If I’m not there in thirty minutes, leave. If I don’t show up tomorrow, tell the judge, tell someone, but until then keep your mouth shut.”

  I motioned to Cash and stepped out into the parking lot. Cris would leave or she wouldn’t, but all my focus was on Perez. I slipped behind a row of cars and crept my way toward them, hunched down with Cash close behind. Assuming they were both armed, a little shock-and-awe would be my only chance at getting the drop on them, and Cash would fill the bill nicely. When I got as close as I could without alerting the crooks, I whispered in Cash’s ear. We’d practiced this maneuver in the backyard at home until Jess had made us stop for fear the neighbors would call the cops. I howled first to get him going, but then he took over like a champion, crooning with every ounce of loud husky breath he could muster.

  The eerie howling did its trick. Dante and Perez both looked like they’d wandered onto the set of a horror movie and their only concern was a route of escape. After a brief pause, they took off running, directly toward me, Dante in the lead. I stretched a leg into his path, and he hit the ground with a thud. Perez was following too close to stop in time, and she landed with her face in his ass. Perfection.