Uncertain Calm (Uncertain Suspense Series Book 1)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  On his nightstand were several science fiction paperback novels: MaddAddam by Margaret Atwood, The Remaining by D.J. Molles, and The Last Policeman by Ben H. Winters. The kid was a reader. Smart. So if he did have a little down time, it was not gang time.

  If he’d been interested in gangs, I’d have expected to see a different sort of book on his nightstand.

  I didn’t see anything to help me, at least nothing glaring. Maybe his phone would be more helpful.

  I walked into the kitchen to see Maria sitting at the table with another Hispanic woman about the same age, and a young man. They were speaking Spanish, and stopped talking when I entered the room. I’m not sure if they were afraid I’d understand, or if they were being polite.

  “Yolanda, this is Officer Leigh. She’s the one I told you tried to save Danny.” Maria’s hands trembled as she lifted them from the table.

  I nodded. “You can call me Harper.”

  Yolanda stood. She shook my hand. “I’m Danny’s tia, Yolanda Sanchez.” She looked at the man next to her, “This is my son, Ricardo Sanchez. Danny’s primo. They were best friends.”

  Ricardo looked up, but didn’t say anything. His eyes were swollen and red rimmed.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” I wondered how many times I’d be saying that.

  “Thanks for all you did. Maria has been telling me how terrible the day was.” She sat back down.

  Ricardo broke down sobbing. Yolanda stood again, and wrapped her arms around him, as he put his arms on the table and buried his head.

  “They did everything together. Ricardo was on his way over to pick up Danny yesterday morning, but he couldn’t get to the house because of all of the chaos. He blames himself.” Maria gave him a sorrowful look. “Best friends and cousins. Our family is broken.”

  The scene broke my heart, but I was there to do a job. Give this family some closure.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to look at Danny’s phone.” It buzzed and moved on the table as I mentioned it.

  “It’s been doing that since yesterday. I should have turned it off.” Maria picked it up and thrust it at me. “But I don’t know how.”

  It was an iPhone 6. I had the same phone, so that would be easy. The problem would be if he had it password protected.

  I swiped the screen. Shit. I’d have to take the phone with me so I could try to bypass the AppleID. “Maria, I’ll have to take the phone with me. It’s password protected, and I’ll have to hack it to get in.”

  “Please, take it. I don’t think I can bear it until the battery goes dead.”

  “One more thing before I leave. Did Danny have his own bathroom?”

  Maria looked at me like I was a pervert.

  Yolanda answered. “No, he shared with Maria. It’s just a two bedroom, one bath house.”

  “Anything seem out of place? Was he taking any medications that struck you as odd?”

  “He didn’t go to the doctor. He was never sick or injured. Just a hardworking boy,” her voice cracked.

  “Did he have his own drawer in the bathroom?” I had to ask.

  “Sure.” She didn’t like the question.

  “I need to take a look.”

  “I don’t understand this.”

  I wondered if she was hiding something. What the hell was I going to discover about her nephew if I looked at his toiletries? “I’m trying to find the person who killed your nephew. Don’t you want to help me?”

  Finally, she relented, stood, and led me to the bathroom.

  It was a closet, really. Salmon pink wallpaper, bathtub, sink, countertop, and yes, toilet. A throwback from the seventies. The linoleum was a light shade of beige with salmon pink flecks. Maria stepped in before me, opened the drawer to the right of the sink, then stepped out. She had to, there wasn’t room for two people.

  Toothpaste had dried to the shelf paper on the bottom of the drawer where Danny had put his toothbrush. I pulled the drawer to open it further, and it caught on something. I reached in to dislodge the box it caught on. A box of condoms. So, Danny wasn’t all work and no play. There was a girl. Or girls. He was a good looking boy, so he could have been a player.

  For the first time the thought came to me: he could have been shot by a jealous boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Was he fooling around with the wrong girl?

  I had to get in his phone. Text messages could explain a lot.

  I closed the drawer and stepped out into the hall. Maria had waited for me.

  “Did you know about the condoms?” I asked.

  The reddening of her cheeks answered for her.

  “What’s her name?”

  “He never mentioned a girl,” she said. “I just found the box when I was cleaning.”

  “He never talked about girls, or a particular girl? Didn’t bring a special someone home for dinner?”

  She shook her head.

  By the way she looked past me, I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me. I stared at her.

  “What? He didn’t have a girlfriend,” she argued.

  “I’m not sure why you’re being so defensive,” I said as I continued to stare her down.

  “Well, he did spend a lot of time next door. Tina what’s-her-name. She wears her skirts too tight and too short, and her push-up bras with itty bitty blouses. He’d help her when she needed things fixed.” Maria looked everywhere but at me.

  “And why didn’t you want to tell me this?”

  “I’m embarrassed. Wait until you meet her.” Maria put a hand under each of her boobs and pushed them up and together.

  “Does she know what happened to Danny?”

  “I didn’t tell her.”

  “Before I go back to the station, I’ll stop by and have a chat with her.” I started down the hall.

  “She’s at work. She’ll be home around quarter after five or so,” Maria sighed.

  “Fine. I’ll be back.”

  Yolanda and Ricardo stood in the hallway, as if they were ready to leave.

  “Ricardo, I know you’re upset right now, but do you mind if I talk to you outside?”

  He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes, then looked at his mom. She nodded at him. We headed to the front door.

  I said my goodbyes and walked outside, but before Maria could close the door, I turned and asked, “Is Tina married?”

  Maria shrugged. “Yes and no? Who knows?”

  Ricardo stood outside on the front porch, constantly looking back inside through the kitchen window.

  “Do you want to walk a little further away from the kitchen?” I asked.

  “Maybe.” He looked back again.

  Ricardo didn’t look as clean cut as Danny. His hair was shaggy, like the old Justin Bieber cut, and he wore a graphic tee with some Mexican band on the front. His baggy jeans were held up with a thick leather belt. His skin was darker than Danny’s, his face flatter.

  We walked to the driveway. The street felt completely different from the day before, and I had no residual effects from the shooting. Not like when I revisited the scene of Ochoa’s shooting months later.

  “Was something going on in Danny’s life that his aunt didn’t know about?”

  He looked back at the house again. “Not really. We just worked a lot. Danny was all about saving money.”

  “I saw books and magazines in his room,” I said.

  “Oh, the magazines,” Ricardo blushed.

  I smiled. “Yeah, the magazines. Every guy has them.”

  He shuffled his feet.

  “He liked to read,” I said.

  “Yeah, he was always dreaming. Stupid dreams. Bigger, better things. Stupid.” He looked off down the street. A faraway look.

  “Best friends, huh?” I touched his shoulder to get his attention back on me.

  “He was my brother, really, not my primo. We did everything together. Everything. Now he’s gone.” He held it together for me. No sobbing.

  “No fights?”

  He laughed, a nervo
us laugh. “Sure, fights. We were brothers, brothers fight.”

  “Over what?” This was like pulling teeth.

  “Things. Insignificant things. Stuff that don’t matter, and you can’t remember a week later. That kind of thing.” He rocked his body left and right.

  “Danny wasn’t into any gang stuff? What about a girlfriend?”

  “All the girls liked Danny. But gangs weren’t his style. He was too good for that shit. Thought he was, anyway.” Ricardo looked at the ground. “Maybe he wasn’t.”

  “He told you everything?” This was a long shot.

  “I doubt it. I don’t tell him everything.” He looked at me. “We all got secrets, you know?”

  Boy, did I know.

  “What about Tina?”

  “What about her?”

  “He doing her?”

  “Who the hell knows? Hear him tell it, so many girls wanted him, if he did them all, he wouldn’t have time to go to work. And he has two jobs,” Ricardo sounded jealous. “But work was important to him, so I think he was probably doing her pipes and charging her. With Danny it was all about money, and moving up and out.”

  “Anything you can think to tell me that could help me find the person who killed your best friend in the world?”

  He looked at the ground and shook his head. Then he rubbed his eyes with his fists.

  I’m always amazed at how little information people seem to have when they’re the ones closest to a victim. It doesn’t matter if the crime is domestic violence or murder. This was the part where I wanted to grab them and shake the shit out of them, until they coughed up something worthwhile.

  “Even the smallest tidbit might be something that breaks this case,” I nudged a little more.

  Nothing.

  “Well, I need to get your contact information, just in case I need to talk to you again.”

  “You have Danny’s phone.” He looked at my hand.

  “Right, so why don’t you give it to me, anyway?” I pulled out my pad of paper to write it down. Besides, I could run a history on him while I was at it.

  CHAPTER 10

  The pounding in my head had subsided by the time I’d left Maria’s home. I thought it was the idea that I might have a lead. A hair thin lead, but it was something.

  I was sitting in Oliverez’s office, waiting for her to return, actually nervous about the favor I’d asked. It wasn’t a favor, exactly; it was for help on my case.

  I’d been relieved to not see or hear from Ochoa all morning. Maybe last night’s antics got him out of my system. Right.

  I turned as she came in.

  “Smith is an expert hacker. He’ll have us in, and get you a new password by this afternoon. You’ll have to log the phone into evidence.” She sat down at her desk. “It doesn’t leave the station unless it’s signed out.”

  “I don’t think I should have to go anywhere with it. I can do all of my investigating from here. I’m just trying to get a read on our victim. Find out why someone would gun him down in broad daylight like that.” I’d hoped to be able to get into the phone first thing, but afternoon would work.

  “Wyatt thinks there may have been another target,” she said.

  I was pissed. “He told you about that?”

  “Don’t you think he should have?”

  “It’s just a theory. Not even a viable one.” I could feel the heat rising up my collar and flooding my face.

  “Don’t get too worked up. I’m on your side. I don’t think you were the target, either. But I did encourage him to investigate that angle. We don’t want to be wrong. It would be dangerous to leave that stone unturned.” She leaned back and crossed her legs and arms.

  I felt the metaphorical distance between us, and realized this wasn't the person to have this conversation with. “Absolutely. You’re right. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me.”

  “Keep me posted on the progress. It’s important we solve this one.”

  “I’ve just gotten started. I still have to check DMV, his banking records, employers, tax returns, you know.” She knew.

  “We need a win.” She’d uncrossed her arms and stood when I stood.

  When I left her office, I felt she had my back, at least a little.

  I walked to a vending machine and bought a bottle of water, then pulled two aspirin from my pocket. The morning’s meds and caffeine had taken the edge off my migraine, and I hoped another dose would get rid of it altogether.

  The break room had fresh coffee, which was just what I needed. I poured a cup, and doused it with powdered creamer and plenty of sugar, to kill the taste. Then tried not to taste the concoction as I chugged it. I rubbed my temples to nurse my head.

  Once in the conference room, I went to work putting my agenda together. I wanted to know what Danny and Tina were about. Did he just do handyman work for her? More? Did he tend to her carnal needs? I needed to know who else Danny was involved with who could get him killed. Had he been threatened?

  Had anyone called his employer to say he’d been killed?

  I pulled my phone out to call Maria.

  “Hola,” she answered.

  “Maria, it’s Harper.”

  “Hola,” she said again.

  “Did you call into work today? Sick?”

  “I couldn’t work today. I told them I needed the rest of the week off.”

  “So your boss doesn’t know Danny…um…is no longer with us?”

  “He doesn’t know Danny was murdered. But he knows he’s dead,” her words were clipped.

  “You said you worked for Impact Growers. And Danny also worked for an almond grower. What almond grower did he work for?” I could have looked up his employment records, but why, when I could just ask.

  “TBA Almond Growers,” Maria said. “I didn’t tell them about Danny. I didn’t think about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m headed there now. I’ll tell them. You just take care of yourself. And if you think of anything that might help us, you call me.”

  She said she would, and that she’d tell Yolanda and Ricardo to call me, too, if they thought of anything.

  I put on my sunglasses, wishing they were darker and not polarized, that the fog hadn't burned off so nicely, and walked on eggshells to my car. The ball peen hammer had morphed into a sledgehammer, which was good. Not great, but good. I squinted against the sun, and googled TBA Almond Growers on my phone.

  The Central Valley of California is known for growing deciduous fruits, citrus fruits, and nuts. And we mustn’t forget table and wine grapes. I drove along the highway, flanked by miles and miles of vineyards, until I reached Interstate 5, then turned toward Clearville.

  Many of the almond groves had been bulldozed because of the drought. Almonds are California’s second largest commodity, just under milk, and neck and neck with grapes. Almonds suck up a ton of water, and need that water even when not producing. I didn't understand all of the logistics, except that they were going to have to replant a more drought hardy almond tree, and the consumer would be paying through the nose at the grocery store.

  TBA Almond Growers seemed to be in transition, too, but still had a thriving business. As I drove into the yard of the field offices, I took in the open air, and the beautiful, fresh surroundings. It reminded me of expensive horse farms. Something clean and fresh, but under it all lurked the dirty smell of money, or maybe something else.

  There was a flatbed with half a dozen migrant workers sitting on the back. They all turned their heads when my patrol vehicle pulled into the lot. I guess they figured it was too late to run, and I wasn’t INS.

  No one came out to greet me, which was expected, and no one stopped me either. Sometimes these farms didn’t want the police nosing around in their business, and I was miles out of my jurisdiction. I’d been run off before, but no one ran me off today. So far, so good.

  I walked up to the light yellow doublewide mobile home, which apparently served as the office, and opened the door. Inside,
there was a chest high counter made of cedar paneling. It should have looked dated, but actually had a modern twist, with a concrete countertop stained hunter green. The interior of the trailer was clean, and looked like most offices: a reception area, cubicles made of gray fabric and metal framing, metal desks and filing cabinets, plastic mats on the carpet, so the office chairs would roll easily.

  The beige walls were adorned with matted and framed photos of almonds, and almond trees in various stages. It was all very almond-y.

  I walked up to the counter, and the person sitting closest asked, “You looking for someone?”

  They must not get many visitors.

  “Person in charge?” I had no idea who I was looking for.

  “In charge of what exactly?”

  This plump girl smiled wide to let me know she wasn’t being an ass. And when she stood, I saw she was wearing blue jeans, and a white cotton dress shirt that wasn’t tucked in. She had a bedazzled belt clasped loosely around her hips, and flip-flops on her feet. They definitely didn’t get many visitors.

  “I’m not sure. I need to speak to Danny Cabrera’s supervisor.” I tried not to stare at her casual office attire.

  She was a cute little thing, if not actually little. Her round face was perfectly made up, and though she wore makeup, it was so deftly applied, it seemed to be natural. And her cocoa brown hair hung down her back in long ringlets. She tucked it behind her ear as she approached me.

  She stopped at the computer that was on a desk below the counter and said, “What was his name again, and is this a person of interest?” She looked up at me. “I mean, are you here to arrest him?”

  I frowned. “Sadly, no. I’m here to inform his supervisor that Danny Cabrera will no longer be working here.”

  She frowned, too. “Oh, he’s already been arrested.” She keyed the name into the computer. Then she looked up. “Or deported.”

  “Not exactly.” I didn’t know how to put it nicely, so I said, “He’s dead.”