Shimmer

by Hilary Norman

  ‘Almost all,’ David added.

  ‘Sam sends you both big hugs,’ Grace said.

  ‘Cops,’ Claudia said. ‘Always working.’

  And then she flushed, remembering Saul’s lost love, who had also been a cop.

  ‘Don’t be so sensitive,’ Saul said, easily. ‘I’m not.’

  His voice was still huskier than it had been, a legacy of last year’s horrors along with the scars on his neck and some residual stiffness in his right shoulder, but Saul was alive and well and content with his ever-growing ability to create beautiful and useful items out of fine wood.

  ‘It worries me sometimes,’ David had said to Grace a month ago, ‘that he’s never going to get properly back out there while he’s working and living with his old man.’

  ‘He gets out,’ Grace had told him. ‘And I have absolutely no doubt that he’ll leave when he’s good and ready. You worry too much.’

  Now, David looked across his living room at Saul, sitting on the floor with Joshua’s aunt and the baby, all playing with fabric bricks and a big stuffed dog.

  ‘What’s up with Claudia?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘She has a few problems,’ Grace said.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ David said. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Grace said. ‘I think she’ll be OK.’

  And wished for that to be true.

  31

  Sam and Martinez were at Satin a half-hour before opening.

  ‘Lopéz quit.’ The manager, Manuel Vega, was tall and bald, his open-necked shirt wet with perspiration, feeling impatient and not troubling to conceal it.

  ‘When did he quit?’ Martinez asked.

  Vega shrugged. ‘A few days ago.’

  ‘We need a date, sir,’ Sam said.

  ‘It’s about a week ago.’ The manager mopped his face with a checked handkerchief, then stuffed it back in his pants pocket. ‘You need details, it’ll take some time.’

  ‘About a week’ meant before the killing.

  Not what they’d hoped for.

  ‘We need them,’ Martinez said, anyway, glad to piss the guy off.

  ‘Why did Mr Lopéz leave?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Like I said, he quit, I didn’t fire him.’

  ‘Didn’t he give you a reason?’ Sam persevered.

  ‘Dancers like Lopéz are a dime a dozen.’ Vega shrugged again. ‘He didn’t tell me zip, I didn’t ask.’

  ‘He get a pink slip?’ Martinez wanted to know.

  ‘Sure,’ the other man said. ‘Everything legal here.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Martinez said.

  ‘I don’t want any trouble.’ Grudging respect shown for the first time.

  ‘We’re not here to give you any, sir,’ Sam said. ‘But we would appreciate any information you can give us on Mr Lopéz.’

  ‘I can find you the address he gave us,’ Vega offered.

  Sam thanked him, then asked if Lopéz had been friendly with any of the other dancers or staff at the bar.

  ‘Go ask them.’ Vega pulled out his handkerchief again, mopped his glistening forehead. ‘I gotta take a shower before we open up.’

  ‘We’ll ask them OK,’ Martinez said. ‘Right now we’re asking you.’

  Manuel Vega glowered at him, then turned to Sam. ‘I don’t recall him being special pals with anyone, but I mind my own business. So long as the dancers dance and the bartenders pour drinks, we all get along.’

  ‘You haven’t asked,’ Martinez said, ‘why we’re interested in Mr Lopéz.’

  ‘Like I told you,’ Vega said, ‘just another dancer.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sam said. ‘A dime a dozen. You told us.’

  They were getting nowhere.

  No one at Satin had anything helpful they were willing to share, not even the slightest hint of subtext or innuendo. Lopéz, they all said, had been easy enough to get along with, but had kept himself to himself.

  ‘Private,’ Sam remarked between interviews. ‘Like Adani.’

  ‘Not a hanging offence,’ said Martinez.

  And so it had gone on, no one giving them anything, except for one waitress, a pretty young woman called Trina, who thought he’d been in a relationship, but if he’d ever mentioned the other guy’s name, she couldn’t remember it.

  ‘But he said it was a guy?’ Martinez said.

  Trina shrugged. ‘He didn’t need to.’

  No joy at Lopéz’s apartment either, a third floor walk-up two blocks from the club. No answer at his front door, his mailbox on the first floor unlocked and overflowing with junk mail and bills, and none of the dancer’s neighbours responding to their knocking either.

  Their luck changed for a few minutes as they were leaving, when a man came from the rear of the house taking out two bags of trash. In his early forties with a neatly trimmed beard and deep suntan, he seemed relaxed about stopping to speak to them, set down his bags and took a close look at their badges, then told them that his name was John Houlihan and that he ‘kinda’ remembered a guy living in 3D.

  ‘Gay guy, yeah?’ he said, his voice a little hoarse, then shrugged as neither detective responded. ‘Close-shaven, earrings – one or two, I can’t recall – but he was real slim, in great shape, couple of tattoos on his arms. Sound like your man?’

  ‘Just like him,’ Martinez said.

  ‘I wish everyone was as observant,’ Sam said.

  ‘I never really talked to him though,’ Houlihan said.

  ‘When did you last see him?’ Sam asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘In the last week?’ asked Martinez.

  ‘Maybe.’ Houlihan’s precision seemed to have departed.

  ‘Any chance you could be a little more specific?’ Sam said.

  ‘Not really,’ he said, then gave it some more thought. ‘Maybe Thursday or Friday.’

  Sam and Martinez both waited, their silence pressing him to go further.

  ‘I guess Thursday,’ he said, then shook his head. ‘Tell you the truth, I’ve been a little out of it the last few days. I’d be a darned liar if I told you anything else.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Sam said easily. ‘You wouldn’t happen to remember what Mr Lopéz was wearing when you saw him on Thursday?’

  Remembering Mildred Bleeker’s slim ‘silver’ guy and hoping for a break.

  Houlihan stroked his beard. ‘Maybe jeans and a black tee?’ He shook his head again and picked up the trash bags. ‘I can’t really be sure, I’m sorry. That could have been some other time.’

  They noted his name and address and thanked him for his cooperation, then got back in the Chevy and headed back to the office to issue another BOLO and write up their report to date.

  Looking for two men now in the Adani case – maybe the same man, though more probably not, they both thought. Neither of whom they had any grounds at all to list as suspects.

  Getting nowhere.

  32

  June 10

  The doorbell chimed at six ten on Tuesday morning, while Grace, Claudia and Joshua were still sleeping and Sam was in the shower, waking up.

  Woody, therefore, the only one to hear the bell and rouse the household.

  Grace was still pulling on her robe as she peered through the upstairs hall window and saw Jerome Cooper on the path below, smiling up at her with his thin smile, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt and navy trousers and looking like a salesman.

  He waved at her.

  ‘Great,’ said Grace as Claudia emerged from Cathy’s room and Woody raced back and forth, up and down the stairs, still barking. ‘Woody, be quiet.’

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Claudia said.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Sam came out of the bedroom, a maroon towel draped around his waist.

  ‘Jerome’s back,’ Grace said.

  ‘Oh, God,’ said Claudia, and began to cry.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Sam told her. ‘You don’t have to worry.’

  He went back into the bedroom,
came out again ten seconds later in grey T-shirt, track pants and sneakers, and went downstairs, his body language resolute as hell, Woody glued to his heels.

  ‘Oh, God,’ Claudia said again.

  ‘Sam, be careful,’ Grace called, then turned to her sister. ‘Stay with the baby while I get some clothes on.’

  ‘But Sam might—’

  ‘Sam and I can handle Jerome,’ said Grace.

  ‘Hi, Sam,’ the man outside said, and put out his hand. ‘I’m Jerry Cooper.’

  Sam took the hand just so he could assess the grip. He’d known limper, but the other man’s skin was clammy and his eyes were sneaky, just as Grace had described them.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ he said.

  Like the handshake, that went against all Sam’s instincts, asking a blackmailer into his house, but this was his wife’s stepbrother, and needs must.

  Jerome Cooper looked down at Woody, who was growling softly.

  ‘Don’t mind him,’ Sam said.

  ‘You sure?’ Cooper asked.

  ‘You’re welcome to leave,’ Sam told him. ‘Your choice.’

  ‘I know it’s kind of early,’ Cooper said, ‘but I wanted to make sure of finding you home.’

  ‘You succeeded,’ Sam said. ‘You coming in or not?’

  ‘Sure.’ Cooper flicked Sam a swift look of dislike, then checked out the small dog again.

  ‘It’s OK, boy.’

  Sam stepped back to let the visitor in, and Woody skittered deeper into the house, wavering near the kitchen door while his master debated where to conduct the confrontation. The kitchen felt too private, likewise the den, which was also where Grace often saw her young patients, which to Sam’s way of thinking made it even more off-limits to known scumbags.

  ‘In there’s fine.’ Grace, coming downstairs in jeans and T-shirt, nodded towards the den, making the decision for him.

  ‘We could stay right here in the hall,’ Sam said.

  ‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t be comfortable,’ Grace said.

  She went ahead into the small room and sat down on the couch, Woody trotting in right after her and settling by her feet while Sam remained standing; and this was one of those times, he decided, when it felt real good to be five or six inches taller and a whole lot more powerful than a bad guy.

  ‘So . . .’ He didn’t offer him a seat, found the man’s presence an affront to the innocence of the children’s paintings on the walls, noticed that for the first time this cosy room felt too small. ‘What do you want, Cooper?’

  ‘Jerome,’ the other man corrected. ‘My friends call me Jerry.’

  Sam’s eyes hardened, but he said nothing.

  ‘At least this time I guess I got asked in,’ said Cooper.

  ‘My husband asked you a question,’ Grace said, glad of her own composure, even if it was superficial. Not that there was any fear in her, not with Sam in charge, but she was, she found, filled with anger.

  ‘So formal.’ Cooper lifted a mousy eyebrow. ‘Mind if I sit?’

  He took a step towards the couch, and Woody growled again.

  ‘Not there,’ Sam said. ‘The armchair.’

  Cooper sat, then looked at Grace. ‘How much has Claudia told you?’

  ‘That you tried to blackmail her,’ Grace said.

  ‘Which is a felony,’ Sam said. ‘For which a person can be jailed, in case you’re unclear about that, Mr Cooper.’

  ‘Please.’ Jerome’s voice turned a little whiney. ‘We’re family.’

  ‘For the last time,’ Sam said, ‘what do you want?’

  ‘Money.’ Cooper shrugged. ‘Same as last time.’

  ‘And same as last time,’ Sam said, ‘you can forget it.’

  ‘Isn’t Claudia coming down to say hi?’ Cooper asked Grace. ‘Only it doesn’t feel right – it doesn’t seem nice – having this little talk without her.’

  ‘Five minutes.’ Sam checked his watch. ‘Then you’re out of here.’

  ‘The photographs,’ Cooper said.

  No more smiling, all pretence gone.

  ‘My sister-in-law already told you to get lost about the photographs,’ said Sam.

  ‘They’re amazingly clear pictures,’ Cooper said, ‘of my stepsister –’ he emphasized the word – ‘with her boyfriend groping her titties and his tongue down her—’

  ‘Enough.’ Anger resonated in Sam’s deep voice.

  ‘You bastard,’ Claudia said from the doorway. ‘You loathsome dirtbag.’

  ‘Nice to see you, too, Claudia,’ Cooper said from the armchair.

  ‘I already told you.’ Claudia had put on a tracksuit, feeling a need to cover up, and she was much too warm now but still trembling. ‘You’re not going to get a dime for your nasty little snaps.’

  ‘Not so nasty,’ Cooper said. ‘Though I guess it depends on your viewpoint.’ He paused. ‘If your boys were to see them, for instance.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Claudia’s voice was shaky.

  ‘My step-nephews, I guess you’d—’

  In one motion, Sam had him out of the chair, one hand twisted around the fabric of his white shirt, the other gripping his left arm, and Grace was on her feet too, and Woody was up and barking again.

  ‘Out, slimeball,’ Sam said, propelling him past Claudia, out into the hallway and towards the front door.

  ‘You let go of me,’ Cooper protested.

  ‘Sam, be careful,’ Grace warned, because an assault allegation was the last thing he needed after last year’s suspension.

  Sam opened the door, steered Cooper through it. ‘You come within a mile of my family again,’ he said, ‘and I’ll have you charged before you can blink your mean little stoat’s eyes.’

  ‘You want Robbie and Mike to see those photos?’ Cooper stood his ground.

  It came to Sam abruptly that maybe this man had a screw loose, because no one in his right mind would make these kinds of threats in front of a cop.

  ‘Don’t you even mention their names again!’ Claudia flew suddenly past Sam, her eyes blazing with fury.

  ‘Hey –’ Sam let go of Cooper, grabbed her arm – ‘take it easy.’

  Upstairs, Joshua began to cry, and the small dog’s barking grew more agitated.

  ‘Claudia,’ Grace called from the hall. ‘Come back inside.’

  ‘You go anywhere near my sons –’ Claudia was shouting now – ‘and I’ll kill you, so help me!’

  ‘Ten thousand bucks,’ Cooper said, ‘and you’ll be rid of me for good.’

  ‘Claudia, get inside,’ Sam told Claudia.

  ‘I’m not asking for a fucking million,’ Cooper said, ‘just ten lousy grand.’

  Sane, after all, Sam decided as Claudia went back into the house, because they were out in public now, so if any of them laid a hand on him now it would be their word against Cooper’s, and then the photographs would be on record, too, and Sam would have liked nothing more than to take this bastard into custody, but he wasn’t going to play into his hands.

  ‘You all owe me that much,’ Jerome said.

  Joshua was crying more loudly, and Grace badly wanted to go to him, but her own composure was long gone, and she wondered suddenly if maybe this was Frank playing a game with them . . .

  ‘We owe you nothing,’ she said, pitching her voice over the baby and the dog’s barking.

  ‘Both you sisters,’ Jerome called right back, ‘owe me big-time, and you –’ he turned to Sam again – ‘you can afford it, Mister Big Shot Detective living in your wife’s fancy house on this nice little island.’

  ‘What I can afford –’ Sam took two strides closer – ‘is to throw you in a real nice holding cell, with some real nice types.’ He gripped Cooper’s arm again, twisted him around. ‘What I can afford is to kick your offensive little butt right off my property.’

  ‘You’re going to be so sorry.’ Jerome’s face was red-patched with fury.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ And suddenly the need to kick the man’s ass was too
great to resist, so Sam did it, just hard enough to send Cooper sprawling. ‘Now get the hell out of here.’

  It took Jerome Cooper a moment or three to get himself off the grass, but when he was back on his feet, his eyes were meaner and harder and threatening.

  ‘You are so going to wish you hadn’t done that.’

  ‘Not if I live to be a thousand,’ Sam said, and went inside and shut the door.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to Grace, who was at the top of the staircase, the baby in her arms, and to Claudia, now sitting on the second step up, pale and tearful. ‘I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘Of course you couldn’t,’ Claudia said. ‘I’m glad you did it.’

  Sam looked up at Grace.

  ‘Me too,’ she said, ‘in a way.’

  Sam felt the rage starting to melt away, leaving him shaken and a little sickened, and he always hated it when anger got the better of him, and it rarely happened, God knew, but that didn’t make it right, and it certainly didn’t make it wise.

  ‘Know what you mean,’ he said.

  33

  There had been another explosion.

  Another yacht, this one in a marina up in Fort Lauderdale.

  No connection with the Leehy family or corporation.

  ‘FDLE reckon this one could be kids,’ Mary Cutter was telling Riley as Sam came into the office. ‘Same as last year.’

  The Florida Department of Law Enforcement, originally created back in the late Sixties as the Bureau of Law Enforcement, provided services in partnership with local, state and federal criminal justice agencies to prevent, investigate and solve crimes while protecting Florida’s citizens and visitors. There had been a similar boat-targeted problem up and down the Gulf Coast about a year earlier perpetrated by a group calling themselves the ‘Bang Gang’.

  ‘I thought Naples PD caught them all,’ Riley said.

  ‘Plenty more kids in the sea,’ said Cutter.

  ‘You OK, Sam?’ Riley asked.

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ Sam said, trying to lighten up.

  Jerome Cooper on his mind.

  34

  Cal was finally back on board Baby.