It hadn't been all that difficult to find out where she lived. He had people besides McKenzie in the police department. For that matter, he had people outside the department he could turn to when he needed information. One call, and within half an hour, he knew everything he needed to know about Kate Giveans. Now, it was time to find out the things he wanted to know.
He wondered about her lingerie choices as he made short work of the lock. It clicked into place and he pushed the door open slowly. The scent hit him first. Oranges and spice warmed him all the way to his groin. It wasn't florally or overpowering, just a comforting, warm smell, as if she'd been home, baking. And he knew she hadn't been home in at least a couple of days.
Kate's home was as warm and inviting as it smelled. An overstuffed couch dominated the living room. Against an opposite wall, a large book shelf lined with all manner of books held a small, flat screen TV. Curious, he picked the remote up off the coffee table and switched the TV on. No cable. It was a smart TV, and Kate evidently only used it for streaming. He flipped through her streaming accounts and learned that she favored crime dramas. No surprise there.
Flipping the TV back off, he moved on through the house. The kitchen was spotless, and the only thing on the counters was an amber glass bowl in one corner filled with protein bars and packages of crackers and a single cup coffee maker near the sink.
The coffee maker sat on top of a drawer full of coffee pods. Frankie opened it and found that Kate didn't favor any single type of coffee. She had a variety of everything from light roast to bold, flavored and regular. Beside the coffee maker sat what had once been a curio shelf. Now it housed coffee cups, all of which were different. Different shapes, different sizes, different colors. “Well, Ms. Kate. Seems you have a coffee addiction.” He liked the way her name felt rolling off his tongue.
That gave Frankie an idea. A gift, perhaps, would be a good way to let her know that she had caught his eye. He knew exactly what that gift might be.
From the kitchen, Frankie moved down the hall. It was a two bedroom apartment. One room appeared to be an office. A dark wood desk sat in the middle of the room, positioned so that Kate could see the windows and the doorway.
A laptop computer sat open on the desk. Frankie moved the mouse, but the computer woke to a password screen. He chose to ignore the computer for now. He was far more interested in the second bedroom. Kate’s room. Besides, he was pretty sure the computer held nothing of interest to him.
The larger bedroom held a king-sized bed, dresser and two nightstands. No mirrors. He didn't know why that caught his attention, but Frankie found it interesting. Most women had at least one mirror in the bedroom. He looked behind the entrance door, there was none there. Nor was there one on the inside of the closet door. He pondered what it meant that Kate didn't spend a lot of time looking at herself as he perused the clothing in her closet.
Most of it was functional but there were a few dresses picked, he was certain, to catch a man's eye. He moved to her dresser. Predictably, the top drawer held her lingerie. Not lingerie. Underwear. There was nothing really sexy about this collection of panties and bras. Nothing matched, nothing lacy. Just functional. Frankie was disappointed. A woman built like Kate should be showing off her assets.
The remaining drawers held nothing any more exciting. Frankie poked around a bit more and then glanced at his watch. He should get moving. He left the door unlocked as he left. No need to have to pick the lock again. He wanted to get Kate's gift and leave it for her before she got home, but it had gotten more complicated as he went through her things. He should get moving before he ran out of time.
The more Frankie learned about Kate, the more he wanted to make her his. The same source that had provided her address also provided some interesting information about her past.
Kate’s previous partner had been killed during a shootout with a drug gang. The reports all said that Kate froze up during the shootout, but it was unclear if her partner would have lived if she’d been fully engaged.
It didn’t really matter to Frankie. If Kate had been at home where she belonged, doing a woman’s job instead of a man’s, there would have been no question about her responsibility. Frankie planned to make sure she realized that.
It was the other bit of information Frankie learned from his source that was far more interesting. He didn’t think Kate knew. In fact, he was pretty sure no one in the department knew, because the information wasn’t part of official accounts of the shooting.
His source had learned that Kate’s partner had been set up by a gang that he’d infiltrated. The gun battle was a set-up, an ambush orchestrated by John Juarez. The same John Juarez that was now establishing his own territory for the Locos Mamoncetes right here in Biloxi. That was something Frankie could use to his advantage.
TWELVE
Jack and Kate pulled into the lot at the Gulf Marine State Park and found a shady spot to park and eat lunch. They let the windows down, but stayed in the car.
“What was going on with Chief Darnow this morning?” Kate asked between bites of a turkey sub.
“No idea.” Jack swallowed and took a long pull from his water bottle. “Something was off, but I can’t put my finger on it. And honestly, I was surprised that he wants us to push so hard on the homicide aspect of this case while ignoring the rest of it.”
“It’s a homicide,” Kate said. “And we are homicide detectives.” She glanced at Jack. His face tightened, but he didn’t say anything.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Kate watching the clock. After a few minutes, she wrapped the untouched half of her sandwich, set it in her lap and glanced around. The lot remained empty.
“He's under the pier. Right side. Farthest piling.” Jack didn't even look up from where he was finishing his lunch.
“How do you know that?” Kate stared hard at the spot Jack indicated until she felt a headache starting to blossom behind her eyes from the strain. Just as she blinked, she saw it. A dark bundle, piled against one side of the pier, only slightly lighter than the shadows cast by the mid-day sun.
“Ready?” Jack asked. He'd finished his lunch and shoved the wrapper back into the plastic bag while Kate strained to see the informant they were looking for.
Kate nodded and stepped out of the car, the sandwich still held in her hand. Harold was always hungry. A symptom of the drug addiction that kept him living under bridges and in wooded areas. Kate guessed if you had to be homeless, the Gulf Coast was a good place to be. It was warm here most of the time, and if you could find shelter from the considerable rain, there were much worse places to not have a home.
Still, today was cooler than it had been yet this December, and it was early. The mid-40s this time of year led her to believe this would be a cooler than usual winter, but the only thing she had to back it up was instinct. Who knew? It was the South. They could be wearing shorts come Christmas time.
As they approached what appeared to be a pile of dirty blankets and clothing, Kate could see slight movements in the bundle. “Harold,” Jack called out softly. The noise from the traffic on Biloxi Bay Bridge was loud, but not so much that Jack had to yell. Harold heard Jack. Kate knew he had, because suddenly, all movement stilled.
They walked closer. Kate let Jack take the lead. She wasn't afraid, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. Besides, from this angle, she got to watch Jack's wide shoulders and narrow waist. She took in the whole picture. He was one well-built man. Sometimes she still wondered why he was interested in her. More and more recently, as her feelings grew, she wondered if Jack’s had. She had no indication. He was the same sweet guy that he’d been in the beginning. That was great, but it made his actions impossible to interpret.
When they got close enough, Jack nudged the pile of material with his foot. “Harold,” he said, “I know it’s you. You might as well make this easy and sit up and talk to us.”
There was no movement.
“I brought you a sandwich,” Kate sai
d from where she stood slightly behind and to Jack's right.
That got some attention. Slowly Harold sat up. “What kind?”
The deep voice was surprising coming from such a slight man. His dark skin glistened with oil and dirt, and if Kate breathed too deeply, his stench made her stomach flip flop. She breathed through her mouth, not wanting to test her ability to keep from gagging. She held the sandwich out. “Turkey. On white bread.”
Harold’s hand shot out, palm up. “A fine woman,” he said. “She knows a man needs white bread. Not that wheat or whole grain cardboard they try to pass off for bread these days.” He unwrapped the sandwich greedily and took a large bite. Kate wondered if his teeth, which were severely damaged from meth use, hurt at all while he ate.
Jack waited patiently while the man scarfed the sandwich down then handed down a bottle of water Kate hadn't even noticed he'd brought from the car. Harold, we need your help. Have a few questions for you.”
The old man - at least Kate thought he was old. She didn't really know for sure - looked up through jaundiced eyes, pupils large, but clear. “What makes you think I want to help you?”
“I think you know,” Jack's voice dropped an octave.
Kate watched the interaction. Jack didn’t really seem all that determined to learn anything from Harold, but maybe it was Kate’s imagination. Jack was a good man and a good cop. He wouldn’t just leave a murderer to go free. Would he?
“I don't know nothing,” Harold picked at his dirty nails.
“Let's just say that you're going to help us out of the kindness of your heart, Harold. Someday soon you may need our help staying out of jail for possession of meth.” Jack seemed a bit more determined.
“What is it you wanna know?” Kate knew Harold would help, but it could require a little pressure. Harold always helped. Jack was just slower than usual getting into his groove.
“You know anything about young girls being sold by the Locos Mamoncetes gang?” Jack asked.
Kate bit back a growl. Jack knew they weren’t supposed to be involved with the kidnapping and trafficking investigation. What was he doing?
Harold shook his head so hard dust motes floated up and around his head in a noticeable cloud. “I don't know nothing about no mama…whatever. Them's some bad dudes, man. I don't mess with ‘em.”
Kate stepped in front of Jack and knelt beside the foul-smelling man. “Harold, no one has to know you talked to us. We just need to find out who's involved. A shrimp boat captain got himself killed last night trying to get three girls out to a drop off point.” She was trying to turn the conversation back to what they really needed. Information about who killed Dale Abernathy.
“I'm telling you, I stay away from them boys. Like their name says, they're crazy. They'll kill a man sooner than look at 'im.” Harold rearranged the filthy blankets around his waist. “Who'd they kill?”
“You know Dale Abernathy?” Kate asked.
Harold looked up surprised. “Abbie? What's the Mamoncetes got to do with Abbie?” Understanding replaced the surprise. “It ain't the Mamoncetes, he said. Abbie wouldn't have nothing to do with them. He was working for someone else. Or he was working on his own.”
He sounded sure of himself, but Kate didn't believe it. “Who else might he have been working with?” she asked.
“I dunno know. It's been a while since I saw him,” said Harold. “But I know he wouldn't work with that crazy gang. He hated them. He was scared of them. Like everyone.”
“Then why did he have crystal meth from the Mamoncetes?” Kate asked, her tone disbelieving.
“Nah. That can't be true. Abbie liked his drugs, but he wouldn't buy from Mamoncetes. He'd go to New Orleans or Mobile to get his fix before he would give them his money. Said Mamoncetes was dangerous. They take what they want. They don't ask, they don't deal.”
“Maybe he changed,” Kate pushed softly. “We found him holding Mamoncetes drugs in his hand.”
Harold's head snapped up. He looked at Kate with surprise. “You're sure?”
Kate nodded. She glanced at Jack. He was staring off under the bridge, and his stance suggested he was angry. Let him be mad. They had a job to do even if he didn’t like it.
“I dunno. Abbie was dead set against trading money with the Mamoncetes. He said he'd die before he'd get mixed up with that crowd. I never would have believed it.” He raised his boney shoulders. “Maybe you're right. Maybe he changed.”
“But you don't know anything about him getting drugs or working with the Mamoncetes?” Kate waited until the dark man shook his head, sending dust motes swirling again. “Do you think it's possible?”
“Anything's possible, girl. I could become a wealthy man if I hit the lottery tomorrow. But it ain't likely.” Harold sighed. “I guess it's possible Abbie got mixed up with that bunch, but I still believe it ain't likely.”
THIRTEEN
The silence in the car lasted almost half way back to the precinct. Kate chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought about what happened with Jack. Chief Darnow had specifically told them to stay out of the kidnapping and trafficking investigation, but that was what Jack had led with. And when Kate turned the conversation with Harold back to the drugs and the murder, Jack checked out. That wasn’t at all like him.
“What happened back there?” She could tell by the muscles jumping in his jaw that he was angry, but she couldn’t let this go. What was going on in his mind? This wasn’t the Jack that she knew.
“I was getting information from an informant,” Jack nearly spat the words at her. “Until you butted in.”
Kate’s head snapped back. What?
“Jack, the chief…”
“I know what the chief said, Kate. And I know that it’s not right. Finding the person that killed Dale Abernathy isn’t going to do anything more than get one guy off the street. There’s a bigger issue here, with the kidnapping and the trafficking, and that’s where we should be focused.” Jack’s tone was colder than a December night in Michigan.
“You know as well as I do that we can’t separate the investigations.” Jack’s face had gone red and he gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. “Whoever killed Dale Abernathy did the world a favor. Why should we waste our time chasing that person down?”
Kate was stunned to silence. She’s never seen Jack like this. It took her several minutes to gather her thoughts.
What could she say to Jack to make him see this investigation was important? His attitude toward the homicide investigation was astonishing. She never expected he could be so cold about a murderer. Would it accomplish anything to have this argument with him right now? How did she really feel about this?
Kate needed time to think through this, so she tried to change the subject, to bring the conversation back around to the homicide they were supposed to be investigating.
“Do you think the drugs could have been a plant?” Kate asked as Jack pulled into the parking lot of the precinct.
“No.”
“Um. Just no?” She forged ahead, her brain bouncing back to the conversation with Harold. He was convinced that Abernathy wouldn't be mixed up with the Mamoncetes. Maybe there was something to that.
“Come on, Kate,” Jack sounded weary. “Harold is a meth head. Whatever he said can't be taken as fact.” Jack slammed the gear shift into park and pushed out of the car.
Kate sat in the car, thinking first of his response and then his attitude. It was uncommon for Jack to be so closed-minded. In an investigation, he was always the one saying they should consider every alternative. And his attitude? Was this even the Jack she had come to know? Maybe the honeymoon was over and the real Jack was coming to the surface. If this was the real Jack, how did it change how she felt about him? I didn’t even recognize him.
“Jack,” she called after him as she climbed out of the car. He stopped at the door into the building and turned back to her.
“What’s going on? This isn’t like you.” Kate f
elt tears gather behind her eyes. She hated when she and Jack fought, and this felt like much more than a disagreement.
“Kate,” he walked back toward her so quickly that she backed up a few paces.
Anger deepened the lines in his forehead and around his mouth. “This is exactly like me. Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
He pointed his finger in her face. “Dale Abernathy was a kidnapper and a meth head. He’s a scumbag, Kate! Our attention should be focused on what he was going to do with those girls, not on who killed him. The. Man. Deserved. To DIE!” Jack’s finger in her face punctuated the end of his tirade.
Kate could only stare at him. She had never seen him like this before, and it scared her. But she was also angry. And hurt. Mostly hurt. Jack had always been sweet and considerate. And serious about his job.
When she said nothing, Jack dropped his hands to his side and turned away. He was pushing through the door into the precinct building before Kate exhaled in a rush. The release of the breath she’d been holding was like opening the flood gates. Tears began to fall even though she fought to hold them back. She hated it, but she couldn’t stop.
It took her a few minutes to regain control of her emotions and pull herself together.
She pushed into the precinct a few minutes later, looking at the floor in hopes that no one would notice her red-rimmed eyes. Jack was already standing by his desk, in conversation with McKenzie when she pushed her way into the pit. She didn't want to deal with McKenzie. She didn’t want to deal with anyone. She detoured to the coffee machine and poured a cup of the thick, oily brew and added liberal amounts of cream and sugar.
FOURTEEN
Jack slammed through the door into the precinct. He knew he was out of line with Kate. She was right, of course. He should be focusing on the homicide investigation. It was his job to figure out who murdered Abernathy and put them behind bars. Even if he felt Abernathy had gotten what he deserved.
A Biloxi Christmas: A Novella (The Biloxi Series) Page 5