“Hello?”
“Cash?” Nate was almost whispering, his voice was so low. “You’re up. Good, I’m at your back gate, but it’s locked. Let me in.”
“What are you doing at the back gate?” I asked, but I was already nudging the cat onto the couch and kicking into my shoes.
“I’ll explain, just let me in quick. And, hey, don’t flip, okay? I’m fine.”
Well, that got me moving.
I fumbled the door open, vaulted down the steps, and crossed to the gate at a half-sprint. I swung the gate open. Nate was wearing a hoodie and basketball shorts, which was very unlike him. He was more of a sweater guy. I closed the gate after he slid into the backyard. He was moving too slow for my liking, but I didn’t prompt him. I trusted him to be honest about what he needed.
When we got in the house, Nate pulled back the hood. His eye was swelling and there was blood crusted on his left nostril.
“What the fuck happened?” I led him to the kitchen and motioned for him to sit.
Nate shook his head. “I’ll stand. My ribs are on fire.” He stood by the chair I’d pointed to and gripped the back.
“Why?” I leaned back against the counter. I didn’t know how to help him.
“I got jacked. Three guys broke into my apartment. They ransacked the place and took my stash and the money from my sales this week.”
“Fucking Jerome.”
“Yeah. One of them looked just like him, but younger and maybe a little shorter. And I’ve seen the other two with him. I’m so sorry, man.”
“What? Why? It’s not your fault.”
“I should have done more. Maybe hid my shit better.”
“No. We can replace the drugs.” I was pretty pissed about that, but I wasn’t pissed at Nate. “Wait. How much did they take?”
Nate grinned. “Joke’s on them, I guess. I’m almost out of everything. I had twenty Adderall, ten Oxy, and fifteen Codeine. It wasn’t much.”
“See? No big deal. So what did they do to you?”
“Couple face hits. Kicked me in the ribs a few times. The big one sat on me while the other two trashed my place.”
“So it was a warning?”
“Basically.”
“How did you get here?” I assumed he had been careful what with calling from the back gate and all, but it was probably smart to ask.
“I took the long route down to Cosumnes, parked at that grocery store next to campus, walked through CRC, caught light rail, walked here. It was actually kind of badass. I’m like a spy.”
“Super badass. So can I take a look at your ribs?”
“Sure.” He tried to strip off his sweatshirt, but moving wasn’t working for him.
“Let me.” I gripped the edge of his sweatshirt and worked it up over his torso. He gritted his teeth when I made him lift his arm to free it from the cotton. “Shit.” Deep purple bruises spread from his hip up toward his armpit.
“You think they are broken?”
“No idea. We will have to ask Robin.”
Nate nodded. “Don’t wake her up. I can wait until morning.”
“Are you sure?” That was chivalrous of him.
“Totally. It’s going to hurt either way.”
“Don’t worry.” I smiled. “I’m a drug dealer.”
That made him laugh, then grimace. “Good. I’d love some drugs.”
“Come with me. Let’s clean you up.”
Nate followed me to the bathroom. I gave him some Codeine from my private supply, which he dry swallowed. I got a washcloth wet and dabbed at the blood on his nose.
“It’s not broken. You don’t need to be careful,” he said. I swiped a few more times before he took the washcloth and leaned to look in the mirror. “I got it.”
“Sorry. I don’t want to break you.”
Nate smiled. “I’ve taken worse hits. Not all at once, but still.”
“How can I help? Ice pack for your eye?”
Nate groaned. “An ice pack would be amazing.”
“Done. One erotically charged ice pack coming up.”
“Fuck you.” He shook his head and smiled at me in the mirror.
I went back to the kitchen and poured ice into a plastic bag and wrapped it in a towel. At this rate, I was going to need to buy some actual ice packs. I wondered if that was tax deductible. It was a work expense, after all.
When I got back to the bathroom, Nate was scrubbing blood off his chin. “How does this shit get everywhere?”
“Maybe you should consider not getting punched in the face?”
“Brilliant idea. I’ll try that tomorrow.”
“Here.” I gave him the ice pack. “I’m going to put sheets on the couch in the study. I’ll have it made up in just a minute.”
“I just need a pillow and my dignity and I’ll be happy.” Nate wrung out the bloody washcloth and hung it.
“Would you settle for a pillow, a blanket, and shame?”
“Sold.” He put the ice pack against his face and sighed. “God, that’s good.”
I left him to the joys of frozen water. I pulled a blanket and pillow from the hall closet. Nate stumbled into the study as I was spreading the blanket. “Thanks for putting me up.” He toed off his shoes.
“Anytime. Try to get some sleep. I’ll have Robin check you in the morning.”
“Sounds like a party.” He slowly stretched out on the couch. “Until then, I’ll just enjoy my drugs.”
“’Night.” I hit the light and pulled the door closed.
I went around and cleaned up the detritus of Nate’s visit. I double-checked the locks on all the doors and windows. Nickels was already asleep on my bed when I finally crawled in. I typed quick, vague texts to Henry and Clive. They would be upset if I didn’t give them a heads-up. I sent a separate text to Robin asking her to drop by in the morning.
Nickels scooted until her butt was against my hip. She flicked me with her tail, started purring, and fell back to sleep. I wasn’t blessed with her skill set, so I succumbed to a far less peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I woke to the smell of coffee brewing. This was why people got housewives. I wondered where I could buy one of those. I grabbed my cutoffs from the day before, underwear, and a clean T-shirt. I needed a shower if I was going to face this day. I realized about two minutes in that it was too hot for a warm shower so I turned the dials to cold, which did very little for my comfort, but certainly woke me up.
I found Nate at the kitchen table making awkward faces as Robin felt his ribs.
“Is he going to die?” I poured myself a cup of coffee. They both already had one.
“Eventually, yes. But not for at least a few years,” Robin said.
“Good. His mother invested a lot into his education.” I sat across from Nate. Robin moved to his other side and prodded some more.
“Hey, remember when you gave me those drugs? That was awesome.” Nate had apparently lost the art of subtlety.
“What kind of drugs?” Robin asked.
“Codeine.”
“How long ago?”
I looked at the clock and counted. “Seven hours.”
“He can have some more,” Robin said.
“Yes! I love drugs.”
“And I hired him because he doesn’t like drugs,” I told Robin.
“I think the fractured ribs might have something to do with it.” Robin pressed a stethoscope to various points of Nate’s chest and told him to breathe.
I left them to it. When I got back with Nate’s drugs, Robin was helping him stretch out on the couch. She arranged two new ice packs against his side. I gave him the pills and he struggled to sit up enough to swallow them.
“Easy. Move slow.” Robin supported his back, then guided him back down. “Make sure to take deep breaths regularly. And ice it when it gets sore.”
“How long is he going to be out for the count?” I asked.
“It will take a few weeks to fully heal. Six, maybe. But he
will be mobile in the next few days.” Robin checked the placement of the ice. “That feel okay?”
“Like a million bucks. Thanks for taking a look at me,” Nate said.
“Any time. Of course, I’d rather you not let people kick you in the ribs.”
“Agreed.”
“See, man? I told you having a nurse around was awesome,” I said.
“If we could stick to opinions about cough syrup and runny noses in the future, that would be great,” Robin said.
“Yes, ma’am. If I see anyone with cold or flu symptoms, I’ll rub them all over my face.” I had to dodge Robin’s backhand.
*
I stepped outside to call Henry. He’d been blowing up my phone for thirty minutes. But Robin had gone to drop Andy off at a friend’s, Nate was finally asleep, and the dregs of my coffee were still almost warm, so I finally had the privacy and inclination to call him back.
“Finally. Jesus. What is going on?” Henry asked.
“Jerome’s friends paid Nate a visit last night. Beat him up, took his stash and the money he’d made this week.”
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah, he’s asleep on my couch. Robin just looked at him. He’ll be fine.”
“Oh, okay. Well, that’s good. How much does he owe?” Henry asked.
“What?” I replayed his sentence. There was no way he was asking what I thought he was asking.
“Between the drugs and the money. How much does Nate owe us?” Of course he went there. Why was I surprised?
“Nothing. Are you a callous bastard or just stupid?”
“You’re not going to make him pay?”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
Henry sighed. “Fine. Whatever. You want to be a pushover, that’s your business. But this is why people fuck with you.”
“Henry, I don’t have time for this.” I never had time to deal with his bullshit, yet I always seemed to. But this time I wasn’t going to coddle him like I usually did. “I’ll deal with my business. You know what I need you to do? Get me everything on the St. Maris brothers. I need specifics. Addresses, vehicles, illegitimate children, legitimate children, parents’ names. Hell, I want their medical records. If they jaywalked in the fourth grade, I want to know about it. Same for Jerome’s other two lackeys. And any other known associates. Get me everything.”
“Yeah, okay.” He sounded pouty. “Am I looking for something specific?”
“I need leverage. Something I can use to get them to back the fuck off. But bring me everything and I’ll figure it out from there.”
“Got it. You want to meet at the farm later?”
“I don’t think I should leave Nate alone.”
Henry sighed. Loudly. “Okay, I’ll bring it to you. Three o’clock?”
“See you then.” I hung up. He never waited for me. This was my small rebellion. Yeah, I was a badass.
*
Henry was punctual as always. I heard the roar of his overpriced engine at seven till, but it was three on the dot when the door slammed. I opened the door as he was climbing the steps. He was carrying a large stack of files.
“Looks like you found some stuff,” I said.
“Not really. But I brought everything, just like you instructed.” Henry strode past me. He set the files on the table and went straight to the coffee machine. “We’re going to need this.”
“You know how the burr grinder works?” I asked.
“I’m not an idiot,” he said. What a fussy pants. I started separating the files. “Hey, Cash?” I turned. “How the hell does this thing work?”
I rolled my eyes. Henry turned the dial and peered at the bean hopper. I pushed his hand away, reset the grinder, and pushed the button. Henry shrugged and started filling the pot with water.
The files were all labeled with names. There were eight in total. Jerome’s and Raymond’s files were sizable, but one labeled Jerome St. Maris Sr. put them both to shame.
When the coffee was finally brewing, Henry sat across from me. “St. Maris Sr. is the father. He has all the qualities of his sons without the charm and ability to run a business.”
“How so?”
“Domestic violence record forty years long.”
“Lovely.”
“Jerome and Raymond also have hefty records.” Henry placed all the St. Marises in a pile. “Not much personal information to exploit in there, but a pretty decent picture of how Jerome makes his money.”
“I’ll probably start there. If I have questions or want something followed up, how quickly can you check?”
Henry hauled out his laptop. It was clearly sheriff department issue. An inch thick, black case on a black computer, and he was holding it like it weighed too much. “I’ve got remote access. It’s slower when I’m not at the station, but it works eventually.”
“Badass.”
“We also have Julio Aragón and Jeremy Norris.” Henry handed me two of the midsize files. “Both appear to be regularly employed by Jerome. We should show their photos to Nate. I’m guessing they were the guys who jacked him with Raymond.”
“When he wakes up, I’ll ask him. Does that cover everyone? What else you got?”
“Robbie Tran and Christian Dilsey. They don’t show up as regularly in my searches, but they are known associates. Robbie Tran had some sort of break with Jerome two years ago. Christian Dilsey still works with Raymond every so often, but it doesn’t look like he works for Jerome.” Henry created a third pile. Those files were even smaller than Aragón and Norris. Henry probably only included the information that tied Tran and Dilsey to the St. Maris family. Which wasn’t great. There was no telling what piece of information was going to be interesting.
“And the last one.” Henry waved it at me. It was about the same size as Jerome’s. “Eleanor St. Maris. Deceased. Jerome Jr. and Raymond’s mother and Jerome St. Maris Sr.’s punching bag. Died of an aneurism four years ago. She had racked up an impressive number of concussions and an array of other injuries. All indicative of years of abuse. The aneurism could have been caused by the previous injuries, but the case was never official.”
“So we have lot of fun, light reading?”
“Yeah. I only skimmed as I was researching. Like I said, I can run more searches if we see anything interesting. Tell me any names, vehicles, or property that comes up in the files, and we can decide if it is worth digging deeper.”
This wasn’t going to be fun. Henry had been right about the coffee. I got up and poured a mug for each of us. Henry took the files for Aragón and Norris and I took the St. Maris brothers. Jerome was up first. He had a number of minor drug offenses in his teens and early twenties. Those tapered off pretty quickly. There were a handful of assaults. None of his crimes were particularly impressive or illuminating, which wasn’t surprising because I was certain he had gotten better at not getting caught. His name turned up in a handful of other investigations, but it never seemed to lead to a conviction. Witnesses tended to recant their statements. In one case, the evidence was logged incorrectly. In another, a rival drug dealer was tried and convicted instead of Jerome, despite the early evidence pointing strongly at him. Nothing seemed to stick to this guy. It didn’t really matter much to me if he got nailed for dealing. I mostly wanted something that could be used against him.
Raymond’s file was more of the same except he had more violent assaults and fewer drug convictions. His assaults diminished, but didn’t entirely disappear. Bar fights, or beatings made to look like bar fights, were common. He had a few domestic violence charges against three different women. Each relationship lasted about six to nine months after the initial assault. Unlike Jerome, Raymond had spent time in county. It looked like the final girl’s father was in law enforcement in Nevada. His influence was impressive considering the state line between them. Still, nothing stood out. His tattoos were interesting. There was a piece on his back with his grandfather’s name. Then again, it was obvious that famili
al ties were important what with the brotherly drug dealing business and all.
“How are you holding up?” I asked Henry.
“I got nothing. You want to go wake Nate up and ask if he knows these guys?”
I hesitated because Nate and Henry had only met in passing. I’d been careful to make sure they never developed a relationship. Part of it was for my protection, most of it was for Nate’s. I didn’t want to give Henry access to bully him. But that was kind of out the window.
“Sure. I’ll go get him,” I said.
Henry nodded. He seemed oblivious to my turmoil.
I stuck my head in the study. “You awake?”
“Yeah, just resting.” Nate rolled carefully to his side and pushed himself up.
“How do you feel?”
“Less shitty than I did. My face isn’t throbbing like last night.” He slowly twisted his torso and stretched. “But I think I’m ready for more ice.”
“Come take a look at some photos first. Henry thinks he knows who jumped you.”
“I was wondering if that was Henry’s voice. You cool with this?” Nate kept his voice low enough that Henry couldn’t hear.
“Yeah, it’s inevitable, right?”
“Probably.”
“Just, you know, don’t give him any leverage.”
“I won’t.”
Nate followed me down the hall to the kitchen. His gait was slow, but he definitely had some mobility back.
“Henry, Nate.”
Henry stood. “Hey, Nate.” He extended his hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”
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