A Bullet for Carlos

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  He walked me to the door and down the sidewalk. “On your way home, be thinking about how this guy got in.”

  I opened the door to the car, staring at his SUV parked right next to me. “How come you don’t park it inside?” It struck me as odd, since garages were at such a premium in New York.

  Tip seemed to be taken off guard by the question. He paused, then said, “Too much trouble. It’s full of junk anyway.”

  As I drove home I thought about the case, Patti Green’s case, and about who she would let into her house, or, who she’d give a key to. Unless Patti was serious about someone, I couldn’t imagine her giving her key out, so that left him being someone she either knew or trusted enough to let in. I tried picturing this, and as I thought about it, I remembered that I left my key with Tariq and Marley, two unlikely candidates for trustworthy citizen of the year awards.

  Could it be that simple? That she trusted her key to someone who turned out to be the killer? No way. Maybe one victim, but not three.

  It didn’t take long to get to my new place. I parked the car and climbed the stairs to the apartment. An image of Tip as he gave me that weak excuse for not parking his car flashed in my mind.

  What’s up with that? Why did he say that it’s both full of junk, and it’s too much trouble. It made me think there was another reason. But what? I turned and checked before putting the key into the lock, then yawned, opened the door and walked in, locking it behind me.

  Why wouldn’t he park his car in the garage?

  ***

  Tip watched Connie drive off. It still bothered him how Tony knew about her, and he wanted to ask her about it; instead he went back in the house, got a beer from the refrigerator and sat in the chair across from the charts. He popped the top on the beer, then nodded to the portrait of his mother. “Don’t worry, old girl, he’s not getting away that easy. Tip is all over this case.”

  He had made a promise to his mother when he entered the sheriff’s department that he would be the best damn detective in Texas, and he intended to prove that to her, and to that son-of-a-bitch father of his who left her six-months pregnant and unmarried. Tip swore again if he ever found out who that man was he’d ruin him.

  Maybe more.

  Chapter 28

  The Investigation Continues

  Tip got up early, too early to pick up Connie. He thought about cleaning the kitchen mess from the night before, but decided against it. Might be better to leave it dirty today. With that in mind, he headed to the corner store. After filling his tank with gas, he went inside for coffee. “How’s it going, Jeeti?”

  “Same as always, Tip. How about you? Did you catch that killer?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  She handed him his coffee, then refused the money he offered. “Your money is no good here. You want to pay for coffee, go somewhere else.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and walked out the door. Two guys were coming across the parking lot. “Morning, Mitch. Lonny.”

  “Mornin’, Tip,” they both said.

  He got into the car and headed toward the freeway. He wondered how Mollie was doing since she killed her husband. She should be doing good, but some people miss even an abusive relationship. Besides, he figured she must be tight on money with only one income. He made a u-turn, got onto FM 2920, and fifteen minutes later he was outside of Mollie’s house.

  The door opened before he reached it. “What are you doing here, Tip? I didn’t shoot nobody else.”

  “Came to see how you were doin’, girl. You know I like to check up on you.”

  “Doing fine. I like living by myself.”

  She stood in the doorway as if she were guarding it. Unusual for her. Every other time he’d stopped by, she was quick to invite him in. “You got any coffee? I need some this morning.”

  “What, all the corner stores run out? Don’t know of one out there that doesn’t give free coffee to you cops—even Starbucks, and I know they didn’t run out of coffee.”

  “Guess you caught me in a lie. I came by to see if you had time to take on a new client. I need some help at my house. One, maybe two days a week if you can spare it.”

  She stood there, holding the door open, and stared at him with piercing eyes. After a long pause, she said, “I don’t take no charity.”

  “I’m not offering charity. I need my damn house cleaned.”

  “Who’s messing it up? Nobody there but you and them dogs, unless you went and married somebody.”

  “Mollie, I’m busy trying to solve a murder, and besides, I hate to clean. And I hate doing laundry even more.”

  As she stood in silence, he nudged her aside. “While you think about what to do, I’m fixing coffee.”

  “I’ll fix it. You sit down and tell me about this murder. Maybe I can help you.”

  Tip laughed as he took a seat. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not hiring you as a detective.”

  She got the coffee started then sat, eyeing him as if he were a suspect in a crime. “You’re not doing this out of charity?”

  Tip had seen the empty cupboards when she opened them to get the coffee. And there was no fruit on her counter. Mollie always had fruit. “I’m not much of a charitable guy. I just need my house cleaned. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll get somebody else.”

  After a short silence she nodded. “Guess I will. That asshole husband of mine left me with nothin’ but debts. Should’ve shot him years ago.”

  “Might have been better.”

  They talked for a few minutes then she poured the coffee. “Don’t have nothing else to offer you so you’ll have to make do with the coffee.”

  “Fine by me,” Tip said, and continued making small talk. “I see they’re building a new Home Depot down the road?”

  “As if people had enough money to spend on fixin’ their houses. Hard enough just gettin’ a house.” She shook her head. “Already too many of them places around. Pretty soon they’ll be like Starbucks, one on every corner.”

  “I got a new partner,” Tip said. “She’s from New York. Temporary, though. Just until we solve this case.”

  Mollie perked up. “Pretty?”

  “Kinda. She’s cute, but her nose is a little crooked, and she’s got a real deep voice. Actually her nose isn’t crooked, it’s got a bump in it.” He took another sip of coffee, picturing Connie in his mind. “But she’s got the prettiest eyes…”

  “A bump in her nose? You’re one to talk. You got that ugly damn scar on your face, and I’ve seen you when you were only a few pounds shy of a potbelly yourself.”

  Tip managed to swallow the gulp of coffee he had in his mouth before he spit it out. “Mollie, that’s why I like you, girl. You always say what you think.”

  Her mouth curled up at the corner, like it did when she knew she was funny. “Of course I say what I think. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” She finished her drink, took the cup to the sink and rinsed it out, then returned. “If I decide to clean your house, I don’t want any nonsense. I show up at 8:00 and I try to get out by 6:00. If you got some woman in bed, tell her to get used to me barging in, ‘cause I like to clean the bedrooms first.”

  “If I’m still in bed with a woman at eight in the morning, I won’t care who barges in.”

  Her demeanor didn’t change. “I’ll come on Tuesday and Friday. That way the house will be clean for the weekend.”

  Tip swallowed the last of his coffee and handed her the cup. “Sounds good.” He looked at his watch. “It’s about time I got going, so I’ll see you next week, unless you want to start tomorrow.” He thought about giving her an advance but she might have slapped him for the insult.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  As he walked toward his car, she leaned out the door and called to him. “Tip.” She waited for him to turn around, then said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. That house is dirty.”

  As he drove to Connie’s place, he made a mental note to dirty
the house up some when he got home. It wouldn’t do for Mollie to think he didn’t need her, and those few kitchen dishes wouldn’t cut it.

  Tip’s phone rang as he turned into the apartment complex. “Tip Denton.”

  “Where are you?” Connie asked. “Little late to be starting isn’t it?”

  “Where am I? I’ve been waiting outside for half an hour.” He saw her building and pulled into a parking spot. “I called you. Check your phone.”

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Be right out.”

  The door opened and Connie came out, bounding down the steps. She half-jogged to his car, getting into the passenger side. “I’m sorry, Tip. I didn’t hear it ring,” she said, and as she did she searched the missed calls. “It doesn’t show a call from you.”

  “You better get that thing checked. I called twice.”

  She didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but he seemed serious. “Sorry.”

  As they drove out of her complex, Connie fidgeted with a folder. “We got the reports from her credit card companies. No iPod purchase, but it shows a monthly charge to a fitness center near her house. You want to start there?”

  “Let’s see her co-workers first. Maybe even find out what time she normally worked out. Better chance of getting people who might have known her.”

  Within minutes they were sitting in the lobby, waiting on Patti’s boss to meet them. The elevator opened and a woman who appeared to be in her mid thirties walked toward them, hand outstretched in greeting. “You must be the detectives. I’m Cynthia Rodriguez. I was Patti’s supervisor.”

  “Can we go someplace to talk privately?” Connie asked.

  “Follow me. There’s a conference room we can use down the hall.”

  After they entered the room, Cynthia closed the door. “It’s such a shame what happened to Patti. We couldn’t believe it.”

  Connie pulled out a chair and sat across from Cynthia. “It’s always a shock when it’s someone you know.”

  “How long did she work here?” Tip asked.

  “She was here when I started, and that was about a year and a half ago. But I don’t think she’d been here long.”

  Connie leaned forward. “And what is your position?”

  Cynthia seemed to puff up as she answered Connie’s question. “I manage the IT department. Patti worked for me as an admin.”

  “What was she like at work? Did you know her socially?”

  Cynthia shook her head. “I didn’t know her very well. We didn’t talk much, and we never met outside of work. I’m here most of the time. When I go home it’s to my husband and three kids.”

  “Who did she talk to the most at work?” Connie asked. “Anyone else we should be speaking to?”

  Cynthia seemed to think for a while. “I can’t say that there is anyone. This is a very small department, but no one was close with her. Not that she was unfriendly,” Cynthia was quick to add, “just that she…well…she didn’t share much of her private life; in fact, I don’t think she had much of a private life besides working out.”

  “Working out?”

  “She was religious about that. I think she went to the gym four times a week. I know because she always told me what nights she couldn’t work late.”

  “So she worked out at night?” Connie was busy writing it down in her notepad.

  “She left here by 5:30 and headed straight for the gym as far as I know.”

  “Why did it take so long for you to call about her missing work? Wasn’t it a week?”

  Cynthia’s eyebrows raised. She seemed offended. “I don’t know. I guess I assumed she was sick or something.”

  “Sick? For a week and she didn’t call?”

  Cynthia’s back stiffened and her attitude with it. “I don’t know. I just didn’t.” Cynthia looked at her watch. “Will we be much longer, because I have a meeting in—”

  “Anything else you can tell us?”

  “No. There’s really nothing else I know.” She stood, reached her hand across the table to say goodbye.

  Connie stood, too, but Tip stayed seated, even as Cynthia reached to shake hands. “What was your name again? Cynthia, was it?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked her up and down and shook his head. “I don’t guess you know an Anna Rodriguez do you? I went to school with a girl by that name over at Lamar High School.” He let a pause float in the air, then, “She was a cute girl, too, and she always had a smile on her face. That’s what reminded me of it. You kinda resemble her.”

  Cynthia blushed. “I do have a cousin named Anna but she lives in El Paso.”

  “It’s a small world,” Tip said, “but not that small.” He stood and handed her a card. “Anyway, if you think of anything call me, okay?”

  “I will,” she said and started walking them out. As they neared the exit, Cynthia said, “You know Patti did tell me she met a guy jogging one day. She said he invited her to a concert.”

  Tip stopped. “You know which one?”

  Cynthia shook her head. “I’m not sure, but I think it was at the Pavilion.”

  Tip wrote ‘Pavilion’ in his notepad. “She say anything else about the guy, or do you know if she went to the concert?”

  “I’m not sure. This happened just before she…got killed.”

  “Did she tell you anything else?” he asked.

  “I remember we got interrupted when she was telling me the story, then…I don’t know. Maybe she thought she’d tell me the rest later. I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Cynthia thought some more, then seemed to get frustrated. “I can’t remember.”

  Tip patted her on the shoulder. “That’s all right. You did good. Sometimes it takes a while for things like this, so if you remember anything else, call me.”

  “I will.”

  As Tip and Connie exited the building, Connie said, “That was pretty smooth back there.”

  “What?”

  “The way you turned her around. She wasn’t about to give us anything else. I think I pissed her off.”

  “She just needed to relax. A lot of people get nervous around cops.”

  “You did a good job. She might even call us if she remembers something.”

  “In the meantime we can check out Patti’s address book, and later on, the gym.”

  “What have we got in the address book?”

  “Not much,” Tip said. “Fernando checked out every male name in there and they all have alibis”

  “How can they all have alibis? We don’t even know what day she was killed.”

  “Yeah, well, there were only two of them and they were both gone the entire week.”

  “Only two guys in her address book?” Connie shook her head. “Not too good for a single girl.”

  “Can’t figure that out,” Tip said. “Not like she was ugly. Maybe she didn’t like guys.”

  They walked to the car, got in and headed toward the station. “What do you make of that stuff about the concert?” Connie asked. “Think there’s anything to it?”

  “Don’t know yet. Right now it’s just another question mark. Maybe we’ll get some leads from the address book or the gym.”

  ***

  We worked the rest of the day chasing down leads over the phone and talking to people who had no idea why they were even in Patti’s address book, including the two men. Both men said they hadn’t talked to her in more than a year. “This lady didn’t have much of a life,” I said. “Worse than mine.”

  “Patti is her name,” Tip reminded me. “Besides, a lot of people live that way. Go through life without anyone even knowing they exist.” He paused, staring at the wall. “Damn shame is what it is.”

  By noon we had the report on the Fed-ex package. It was definitely sent after she was dead. No prints, and it was dropped off at a Fed-ex drop, no cameras. Fernando called Tip around 4:00 with more information. When Tip got off the phone he filled me in.

  “They tracked the serial number from the iPod. It was bought at a
Best Buy west of town, and paid for with cash. No cameras on the transaction.”

  “When?” I asked.

  “Two days after Ben figured Patti died.”

  I tapped my pen on the desk, thinking. “Damn.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Tip said.

  “Gotta be him.” I clicked the pen off and on, off and on. “But why? What’s the significance?”

  Tip looked at the clock. “Let’s go, Gianelli. With this traffic, by the time we get to the gym it’ll be 5:30. That’s what time Cynthia said Patti used to workout.”

  I packed my stuff. “We need to strike gold at the gym. Gotta break this case.”

  “Since she spent so much time there, maybe she talked to people more.” Tip grabbed his notepad. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  The gym was crowded when we got there, and after waiting a few minutes for the manager to finish with a customer, Tip approached him with his badge out. “Tip Denton. This is Detective Gianelli. We need a few minutes of your time.”

  The man seemed nervous. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re investigating a homicide and the victim was a member here—Patti Green.”

  Recognition lit his face, relief showing. People always got nervous before they knew what a cop wanted. “I remember hearing about that.”

  “So you knew her?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know her to talk to, but I knew who she was. She came in three or four times a week.”

  I tried to keep the accent from my voice, not wanting to alienate people. “Anybody here she was particularly friendly with? Any workout partners?”

  He thought, but then shook his head. “Nobody I can think of.” He pointed toward the back. “She mostly used the weights. I think she did her cardio outside the gym.”

  Tip handed him a card. “You think of anything else, call me.”

  As we headed to the back of the gym, Tip whispered, “You any good at reading people?”

  “Not bad, why?”

  “Watch them while I talk.”

  “You gonna’ talk to them all at once?”

  “For now,” Tip said. “If you notice anything, we’ll pull them aside individually. And make sure you get names and numbers.”