Touched By Blood

by Craig Buckhout

  “Aren’t you worried when you do this? How do you know the client isn’t some nut case?”

  She shifted in her chair.

  “Well, I guess I don’t know for sure. The only thing is we’re supposed to check-in with Carl to let him know if we’re having any problems. If he doesn’t hear from us, he says he’ll come to make sure everything is okay. But sometimes, sometimes he doesn’t even answer his phone, so how’s he know if we’re all right?”

  “Edna we could really use your help to figure out what happened to Molly and why.”

  “I don’t know what more I could do. I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  “You could help a lot if the next time Carl tells you to meet someone, you let us know. If we could talk with one of the clients, we’d find out how they connect up with Carl, you know, who they talk with to arrange a date.”

  “Ah, I don’t know about that. Just talking is one thing, but that sounds like it’s really dangerous. If Carl finds out, I don’t know what he’d do. Sometimes he can be really mean.”

  “As long as you don’t tell anyone and we keep it between you, me, and my partner, he’ll never find out. It’s practically foolproof. All you have to do is call my cell phone as soon as he tells you he’s got someone he wants you to meet. We’ll tell you what to do after that. We may not even arrest your client. All we want to do is find out what he knows. What do you think, will you do it?

  “What’s your partner like? Is he nice like you?”

  “Nicer.”

  “I guess so, but I’m scared.”

  As she said this, she pulled the front of her sweatshirt down exposing more flesh. It made Nick wonder how much of being scared was just an act.

  “We’ll look out for you, Edna. It’ll be like you’re one of us. We won’t let you get hurt.”

  “Well, if you put it that way, I guess. Are there any rules about coming by and seeing me dance?”

  “How about if I buy you something to eat instead?”

  Edna smiled. “Like a real date.”

  “Friends.”

  Nick made a mental note to get St. Claire’s personal financial records, e-mails, and phone records to see if he could establish a connection to Carl Malone or possibly this Ramon Forney character who owned the club. They were going to need more help.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was 10 o’clock dark. The midnight police were yelp testing their sirens and dry racking their Remingtons, the ritual preparation for another shift, when Nick walked out of the station.

  He dropped into the driver’s seat and felt the dead dull of fatigue settle over him like a heavy winter coat. Except for a vending machine turkey and cheese, he hadn’t eaten or stopped since he’d followed Al down the rear steps.

  Once back at the department he and Al briefed Navarro, their Lieutenant, and began the process to have St. Claire’s personal records searched. After that, until their brains refused what their eyes saw, they watched The Rack’s surveillance videos. There were hours and hours left to go through. Not so easy. Play, stop, re-wind, play again.

  His cell phone symphonied something Beethoven and it displayed a number he didn’t recognized. He almost ignored it, but remembered Edna. Maybe she’d been given another job. He hoped it wasn’t for tonight. It would be a scramble.

  “Nick, its Terrie.”

  Terrie Callister, was Lt. Terrie Callister, who’d shared a short but intense thing with Nick several months earlier. Passionate, then comfortable, then occasional, then not at all except for when they found themselves in the same place, at the same time, in the same consenting adult mood.

  “Hey Terrie, what’s up?”

  “Do you know someone named Ellen Banks?”

  “Yeah, why.”

  “We got a suspicious circumstance call, and I’m at her house now.”

  “Is she all right? What happened?” Nick asked.

  “She’s okay. I’m looking at her right now. The neighbor across the street thought she saw a prowler in her yard and called it in. Ellen thinks it’s a false alarm.”

  “You turn anything up?”

  “Not really. But the first guy here heard some barking dogs on the backside of the block a few doors down and there’s a footprint in the dirt under her window, but no attempted entry or anything like that. It could be something or it may be nothing more than some guy chasing down his dog.”

  “Okay, look, will you protect the footprint for me and tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes?”

  “Hold on,” Terrie said.

  Nick heard her say, “He says he’ll be right here.”

  “Okay, she’s got the message.”

  “You’ll hang out with her, right, until I get there?” Nick asked.

  “If you want me to. Anything else you want from me, Nick?”

  He laughed. “Always.”

  When Nick pulled up out front, Terrie’s blue and white Tahoe was at the curb and a beat cop was parked in Ellen’s driveway. Terrie met him on the porch.

  “So what’s the deal with Ellen?” she asked.

  “That was her sister who was murdered at the Claremont. It’s somehow connected with Emerson’s death as well.”

  “Ah huh.”

  “What do you mean, ah huh?” he asked.

  “Nothing, just wondering.”

  “Just wondering what?”

  “Just wondering if there was anything going on there.”

  “Going on? …You mean between her and me? She’s a witness for chrissakes.”

  “Okay, don’t get all worked up, it’s just a woman thing. Maybe I misread it. Forget I asked. How’ve you been?”

  “Misread what?”

  “Nothing. Forget it. Maybe I was being a little over sensitive.”

  “Over sensitive? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Look, you’re here, she’s safe, I got places to go and people to see. Why don’t you call me on my next days off — Sunday, Monday, Tuesday? We’ll get a drink or something.”

  “Okay, but gotta clear this one first. You know how it is.”

  “Call me anyway, we’ll have phone sex. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  Terrie said the last over her shoulder.

  Nick stood there for a moment and watched her walk to her SUV, wondering what the heck had just happened. He opened Ellen’s door and walked-in. She was sitting in her living room with a young beat cop who was looking through one of her photo albums. The officer put the album back on the coffee table.

  “You want me to hang out, Sarge?”

  “Nah, you can take off, I got it.”

  The officer turned towards Ellen. “Take care now. If you have any other problems don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thanks, but I think this was just a false alarm.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Nick said.

  “You look beat. You want some coffee?” Ellen asked him.

  “Love some.”

  He followed her into the kitchen and watched her start the coffee. There was an open bag of potato chips on the kitchen counter that he helped himself to. After a couple of chips he pushed the bag away. They tasted like salty cardboard.

  “I’ll make you some scrambled eggs, too.”

  “I’m all right.”

  Ellen ignored him, opened the frig and pulled out a carton of eggs. Nick caught a glimpse of the inside and wondered if the eggs weren’t stale, too.

  “So how well do you know Terrie?” she asked.

  What’s with these women, he wondered?

  “We went out a couple of times if that’s what you mean. That was a while back. Why?”

  “No reason, woman’s intuition is all. You know, body language, the way things are said. We’ve got our own language.”

  She broke four eggs into a bowl and beat them.

  Nick decided to change the subject. It was nice to be the center of all this female attention, but it wasn’t helping his case.

  “Tell me about what happened toni
ght.”

  “I don’t know what happened really. First, I got a call from Louise across the street saying there’s somebody in my back yard and then your girlfriend …”

  “Ex-girlfriend.”

  “Okay, ex-girlfriend shows up with the cavalry.

  Ellen pulled some green onions and a red bell pepper out of the crisper and began to chop them up.

  “You didn’t hear or see anything?”

  “Nope, and as soon as Louise called, I checked out all the windows, too.”

  “Hmm …You know what, I think while you’re doing that I’ll go across the street and see what Louise has to say.”

  Louise told him that because of all that had happened she’d been keeping a close watch on Ellen. An hour or so ago, she looked out her window and saw a figure walk down Ellen’s driveway. It was pretty dark, so she couldn’t be a hundred percent positive, but it looked like a man dressed in dark clothing rather than a woman. He disappeared out of sight, probably around the back of the house. She then grabbed the baseball bat she keeps by the door and called Ellen. After Ellen hung-up, she called 911. If the operator hadn’t kept her on the phone so long with all his questions, she would have had a look herself.

  Nick thanked her and checked out the footprint in Ellen’s backyard. He found it under a window on the backside of the house. Terrie or the officer had covered it with a cardboard box. It was a waffle pattern similar to the one he saw at the scene of Emerson’s murder. He gave Fran Decker a call and told her about it and that it was temporarily safe until she could photograph it.

  Nick walked back inside the house just as Ellen turned off the stove.

  “I think I might join you,” she said.

  She scooped eggs onto two plates and carried them to the table.

  Nick noticed her hair was as before, in a ponytail, and she was wearing a pair of dark blue, threadbare sweatpants, and a faded light blue tee shirt.

  “Napkins and forks are on the counter,” she stated.

  Nick took the hint without comment.

  She returned to the kitchen and pulled a couple of cups from a shelf and filled them with coffee. One read ‘Life is Great’ on it. The other read nothing, it just showed an orange cat sporting a big grin.

  “I don’t have any cream, but there’s milk in the refrigerator.”

  “Not for me,” he said.

  As she carried the cups to the table she said, “Okay Mikolaj, you said you’d tell me about my sister and this Nolan St. Claire person. Is he the one? Did he kill her?”

  They both sat down.

  Nobody ever called him Mikolaj. Even his mother called him Nick. Coming from Ellen it had a very personal feel to it. He liked it.

  “It’s sure looking that way,” he replied. “He had her cell phone and there were some injuries on him that your sister could have inflicted. Tests will have to confirm it, but for now that’s our working theory.”

  “Why would he do such a thing? She was such a sweet kid; a little mixed up maybe, but she was only twenty one, who isn’t a little mixed up at twenty one?”

  The corners of her mouth turned down and tears accumulated along the lower lids.

  Nick shook his head for an answer because he had no other answer and didn’t really expect Ellen was seriously looking for one. It was one of those things they would probably never understand.

  He took a forkful of eggs in the silence that followed. She was fighting down tears. Nick saw her wipe her eyes with her napkin.

  “You also said that someone then killed him. Who would do that?” she asked. “He kills my sister and then someone kills him? Why? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Nick swallowed a mouthful of eggs and thought how this whole setting felt odd to him. It seemed almost like a family discussion at the dinner table rather than talking to a witness in a murder case. His senses were all messed-up because of it, not in a suspicious, on-guard sort of way, but just the opposite. He felt disarmed, too familiar, and that was something he wasn’t accustomed to. Even where Terrie was concerned, he never completely let his guard down. She even brought that up to him once. He was uncomfortable with this feeling. Keeping a little bit of distance was more his way; it was safe.

  “We’re not sure what’s going on Ellen and don’t know who killed St. Claire either. That’s why you have to take what happened tonight seriously. There’s too much we don’t understand yet. But we do know your neighbor saw someone in your backyard and there’s a footprint by your window. You could be in real danger here.”

  Ellen pushed the eggs around her plate for a second or two, and then put her fork down.

  Nick took a swallow of coffee. It was strong.

  “But why? Why would someone want to do anything to me? I don’t have anything to do with anything, except for Molly being my sister. That’s not a reason to kill me.”

  “I wish I could tell you why you might be in danger, but I can’t. Maybe they think you are a threat to them, that you heard something, or saw something, or know something, I don’t know, and until I do know, we need to make sure you’re in a safe place.”

  “Are you implying I shouldn’t stay here? Isn’t that a little drastic considering we don’t even know for sure if I am in danger?”

  Nick put his fork down and gave her his full attention. He felt he had to make her understand.

  “It’s the smart thing to do. Whoever this guy is, whatever his reasons are, he’s one serious motherfucker. He killed a cop Ellen, shot him dead. It wasn’t any panic killing either. He did it because it served his purpose, and he was calm enough after to take the officer’s portable radio.”

  She leaned forward and stuck out her chin. “I can’t. I have a business to run. If I don’t work, I don’t eat.”

  Nick stared at her and she stared right back. He could see that she wasn’t going to give-in and he knew he didn’t have the leverage to reason with her. And the truth was, if the roles were reversed he wouldn’t leave either — but he had a gun.

  Nick’s cell phone sounded off.

  “Then I’ll try to get around-the-clock surveillance on your house, but we almost never do that. We don’t have the people for it.”

  “Yeah”, he said into his phone.

  Ellen picked up her plate and carried it to the sink. She hadn’t eaten anything that Nick saw. She probably hadn’t eaten all day. The thought made him feel guilty. Instead of a lecture, she probably needed compassion.

  It was Navarro.

  “Hey, they just found Frankie Fontaine’s body shot through the head. He was in his car, parked outside your first victim’s apartment.”

  “Suicide?”

  “Nope. You’re not that lucky.”

  Nick looked at Ellen. He felt the pin pricks on the back of his neck. This ought to convince her, he thought.

  Ellen, seeing his intensity mouthed the word “what.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there shortly. I have to take care of something first. It shouldn’t take much time. Who found him?”

  Ellen came back to the table and sat down with her hands folded in front of her.

  “One of his neighbors,” Navarro replied. “She saw him parked in her space after she’d left several notes on his car to park elsewhere, so got out of her car to tell him off. At least it sounds like her problem is solved anyway.”

  “Okay, I know where it is.” He ended the call.

  “What happened,” Ellen asked.

  “Someone killed your sister’s boyfriend. Look, I gotta go, so I’ll get a cop to hang out here until I can get back. We’ll talk about what we’re going to do then.”

  “What the heck is going on? Now my sister’s boyfriend is dead?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll tell you what it looks like, though. It looks like someone is trying to clear the boards. He’s killing people who he thinks betrayed him, are a threat to him, or something like that. He’s just getting rid of everyone so there isn’t anyone who can give him up.

  You’ve told me everything
, right? You’re not holding something back to protect your sister?”

  She placed her palms flat on the table and stood-up.

  “I can’t believe you just asked me that. It’s my sister who is dead! My sister! I want to get anyone who had anything to do with it, you hear me?” And then quieter, “Besides, what can I protect her from now?”

  “All right. All right. I had to ask. Sorry.”

  Nick dialed Terrie and got her commitment to send an officer over and then relieve him with the day shift. After that, Nick would have to make an arrangement with the Deputy Chief of patrol. He told her he’d stay put until someone got there.

  Ellen had turned her back on him, stiff-necked, facing the sink. She was still mad about his question.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “You know how to get a one armed Polack out of a tree?”

  Al stood with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking from heel to toe, just beyond the ring of light that was directed on Frank Fontaine’s car.

  “Jeeze, don’t you ever rest?” Nick said.

  “Wave to him.”

  “I think you’ve told that one before.”

  “Nah, you’re thinking about the Polish parachute joke.”

  “You know what, I think you’re right. This one’s worse.”

  “What can I tell you, I’m going for a personal best.”

  “You’re there. You can retire now.”

  “Think so?”

  “Definitely. Trust me. So, what do we got so far?”

  The smile evaporated.

  “We got bubkes, that’s what we got. This asshole isn’t slowing down long enough for us to even take notes. If he’s smart, though, he’ll tuck tail and run because I’ll tell you what, if one of Emerson’s buddies gets a hold of him there’ll be nothing left but teeth and hair. They’re pissed like I’ve never seen before.”

  Nick just nodded his head.

  After several long moments without more of a response, Al said, “What, the prospect of a payback offends your sensibilities?”

  “Huh? No, I’m just thinking about Ellen Banks.”

  “Thinking about her covered in whip cream and chocolate or thinking about hiring her to take boudoir photos of you and Terrie in gun belts and black leather boots?”