Hat Dance (Detective Emilia Cruz Book 2)

by Carmen Amato

  Silvio folded his arms and they glared at each other.

  “You got any other surprises to share?” Silvio asked softly. “Anything that puts me in somebody’s sights?”

  Emilia shook her head, too angry to say anything else.

  “Well.” Silvio looked around as if just now realizing where he was. “I got some personal stuff to do.”

  Emilia didn’t answer him.

  “Good luck with whatever disaster you create today,” Silvio said. He turned on his heel, and Emilia watched him walk around the side of the building toward the lot where the detectives left their personal vehicles and undercover Vice cops paraded as if they owned the place.

  ☼

  “This lady is from the police,” the receptionist said from behind her glass and chrome desk. She pronounced police in the same way she might have said sewer.

  “Dr. Ramirez, I’m Detective Emilia Cruz Encinos.” Emilia held up her police credential and badge.

  Dr. Felipe Ramirez Palmas was a sleekly groomed man with pale brown eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles. He wore a starched white lab coat monogrammed with his name over a pink striped shirt and rose-colored tie with a tight knot. High-quality gold and amber cufflinks showed inside the lab coat sleeves as he crossed his arms instead of making any move to shake Emilia’s hand. His pants were dark gray, his shoes were nearly reflective with polish, and he looked faintly amused to have a representative from the police in his office.

  “And what can I do for you, Detective Cruz?”

  “Perhaps we might speak somewhere privately?” Emilia suggested.

  “I don’t have a lot of time, Detective.” Ramirez smiled, showing teeth so white and even they might have been chicle gum tablets.

  Emilia looked around the expensively decorated reception area, taking in the black and chrome chairs, glass cocktail table, silvery window shades, and display of pamphlets advertising miracle skin products and treatments. Two middle-aged women, whose faces looked like inflexible masks, alternated between watching Emilia and the flat screen television.

  “I need to ask you some questions about Julieta Rubia,” Emilia said, loud enough to ensure that everyone in the office heard her.

  After the argument with Silvio, she’d gone back to the squadroom, updated the arson list, stuffed a copy into her bag, and left. She’d found the doctor’s office easily. But Silvio’s words still stung and Emilia wasn’t inclined to treat Julieta Rubia’s doctor delicately. She didn’t care if she created a disaster in that snobby office.

  “The hooker queen who was arrested a while ago,” she went on as if he hadn’t understood her. “She looks really great for her age.”

  Ramirez’s left eye twitched slightly. “Would you care to step into my office?”

  Emilia walked around the reception desk and followed him down a stark white hallway into a stark white office. She stayed standing, ignoring his gesture for her to sit as Ramirez closed the door and settled into a black swivel chair behind another glass and chrome desk.

  The white walls were minimally decorated with framed diplomas and certificates. A low black bookcase was topped with an open binder. Emilia flicked through before and after pictures of middle-aged women. Most of the after pictures looked as if their faces were molded from plastic.

  “You visit Julieta Rubia every week in prison,” Emilia said. She turned away from the binder to face Ramirez. “Why is that?”

  “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” Ramirez said, showing his amused look again.

  Emilia clicked her tongue. “Of course. I’ll just have to come back with a technical team to look through your records.” She lifted her chin at the silver laptop on the desk. “Looks like all your records are digital. We’ll try not to mess up your files as we go.” She sighed. “But you know how incompetent we are. Can’t even catch somebody throwing grenades. I’m sure you read the papers this morning.”

  “Shouldn’t you be looking for that arsonist, Detective?”

  “We got a crack arson investigator in from Mexico City,” Emilia said blithely. “New lieutenant from the big city, too. They’re on it.”

  “Sounds like they could use a little more help.”

  Emilia took down a diploma mounted on a wooden plaque. “I’ve got lots of time to figure out why you’re visiting Julieta Rubia, a woman who has been selling little girls for years. Are you a regular client? She must be pretty good for you to go all the way out to the Cereso for a fuck.”

  “Julieta is a patient,” Ramirez said stiffly.

  “Who needs weekly attention.” Emilia tossed the diploma onto the desk and it landed with a clatter. She was in a mood to fight. With this doctor, with Julieta Rubia, with anybody. “What’s she got? Leprosy?”

  Ramirez’s eye twitched again. “What exactly are you looking for, Detective?”

  “We’ll start with why you go to the prison every week.”

  Ramirez tapped a key and his laptop came to life. As Emilia walked behind the desk to watch, Ramirez navigated through several menus to a client list. He clicked on Julieta’s true name and a file came up.

  He scrolled through. “Señora Arana has been my patient for a number of years,” he said uncomfortably. “We have a weekly depilatory session, a pulsed laser treatment and a pectin mask, followed by injections of Botox, vitamin B and human growth hormone.”

  Emilia gave a short laugh. “Julieta must be paying you a fortune.”

  “Fifty thousand pesos a week.”

  Emilia nearly toppled over. It took a detective almost four months to earn that much. “You do all this in the prison visitor yard?” she asked. “With everybody else having their visitors at the same time?”

  “Of course not,” Ramirez huffed. “I use the private clinic on the prison grounds. It is my understanding that it is reserved for privileged detainees.”

  “Do you pay the prison for the use of the clinic, or does Julieta?” Emilia asked.

  Ramirez closed out of Julieta’s file. “I have no contact with prison officials and certainly do not pay them for the use of their facilities.”

  “So Julieta pays for everything.” Emilia paced the office. Fifty thousand pesos a week for the doctor. Plus more for Julieta’s prison privileges, her manicures, and designer prison clothing. Who knew where the list ended? Despite her tough talk, Olga la Fea had to be printing money for Julieta to pay for all of it.

  “When is your next appointment?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “You’ll have a new assistant for that visit,” Emilia said.

  Ramirez pursed his lips. “Am I to assume that it will be the last visit?”

  “That depends,” Emilia said.

  Chapter 29

  Emilia and Silvio sat stonily through the morning meeting on Tuesday. When Lt. Rufino asked if they were making progress on finding Los Matas Ejercito, Silvio just said, “Yes.”

  The senior detective left the squadroom without speaking as soon as the meeting was over. Lt. Rufino looked relieved as he went inside his office, hand wrapped protectively around the steel travel mug. He hadn’t been near the coffee maker.

  Emilia told Macias and Sandor she’d help with the phone calls and interviews later in the day. She collected her bag and left the squadroom, letting her hand touch Rico’s desk as she went. For luck.

  But the luck didn’t take. Castro fell into step with her as Emilia walked down the hall toward the holding cells. He was tall and spare with a straggly goatee, ponytail and denim jacket over a faded rock band tee and jeans. “Heard you met my big brother last week, Cruz.”

  “What of it?” Emilia didn’t break stride, but her heart stuttered.

  “I never figured you for a thrill seeker,” he said. “You and Rico always played the straight and narrow. Branching out now that he’s gone?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emilia shot the holding cell guards with her thumb and forefinger like she always did. They shot her back.

  “When
Diego said some hot girl cop was prowling around Mami’s, I knew it had to be you.” Castro moved in closer, trying to pin her into the corner by the exit.

  Emilia shoved him away with both hands on his chest and he stumbled against the opposite wall. “I was looking for a missing girl,” she spat. “I don’t care about Mami’s. You can let him know.”

  Castro peeled himself off the wall and held up his hands in mock surrender. “You and me had our moment,” he said. “We’re all right now. That’s why I’m doing you this favor.”

  “What favor is that?”

  “Letting you know that if you try to move in on my brother’s territory, you’re going to lose.”

  “That’s a favor?”

  Castro winked at her. “You want better, we got it. The Castro brothers can give you a three-way you’ll never forget.” He straightened his jacket and pushed open the door. “See you round, Cruz.”

  Emilia waited until a reasonable amount of time had gone by, enough time for Castro to get in his car and drive away. Besides, she couldn’t have rushed out if she’d wanted to. Her legs could barely keep her upright as she realized how close she’d come to mouthing off and revealing what she knew about the missing evidence from the El Pharaoh case.

  If she’d done that, Emilia knew that the proffered three-way would be neither optional nor survivable.

  ☼

  Dr. Ramirez had a driver. Emilia sat next to the doctor in the backseat of his late-model sedan as they drove up to the prison complex. The driver showed some sort of identification and the guard checked a roster. They were waved in, and the driver took a side road to the back of the main building and parked in a visitor spot. Dr. Ramirez had a leather satchel that no one asked him to open or otherwise checked. He signed in on the women’s side, just like Emilia had done, and was directed to the main prison. He was obviously well known to the guards, and they accepted his statement at face value that Emilia was his assistant. She’d put on one of his real assistant’s starched white lab coats, and no one asked for her identification.

  Emilia followed the doctor through the entrance the guard indicated. They didn’t go through the metal detector. Emilia wouldn’t have left her gun behind if she’d known.

  The clinic was more modern than the rest of the prison, with pale blue stucco walls and locking cabinets for supplies. The walls were bare except for a few posters that used simple diagrams to demonstrate the importance of frequent hand washing and the use of disposable tissues, not towels or clothing, to blow the nose.

  A male orderly in the reception area was playing a virtual building block game on a computer but looked up as Ramirez approached. The orderly stood as if receiving royalty. “Dr. Ramirez,” he said. “Number Two exam room. I’ll call for the patient.”

  Ramirez went into one of the exam rooms, Emilia on his heels.

  She looked around the space. It looked like a typical medical examination room with a padded examination table, big adjustable overhead lamp, another floor lamp with a long gooseneck, and a rolling stool for the doctor. A sink was set into a clean white counter and waste cans were marked with the biohazard symbol.

  “Go ahead and sit down,” Emilia said to Ramirez.

  He sat down on the stool and she made him wheel it into the far corner before leaning on the wall next to the door.

  They waited only a few minutes before the orderly ushered in Julieta Rubia. The blonde woman was dressed as before in a tailored cotton shift and flip-flops. Her fingernails were a glossy black and her blonde hair was held off her face by a matching fabric headband.

  At first Julieta saw only the doctor sitting forlornly on his stool, leather satchel on his lap and both hands on the handle as if it was a lifeline. “Why aren’t you ready?” she asked him.

  Emilia latched the door. Julieta spun around.

  “Good to see you again, Julieta,” Emilia said.

  “The girlie cop.” Julieta acknowledged Emilia with a dark glance at Dr. Ramirez.

  “That’s right,” Emilia said. “Detective Cruz. I asked you some questions about a girl. Lila Jimenez Lata. She came to you to ask about her mother. A woman named Yolanda Lata.”

  Julieta moved past Emilia and hopped up on the examination table. “You need to make your own appointment, puta. This is my time.”

  Emilia stepped away from the door. “Doctor Ramirez can’t see you until after we’ve talked.” She nodded at him and Ramirez walked out, taking his satchel with him. Emilia latched the door again.

  Julieta shook her finger at Emilia. “I paid good money for that doctor to come here.”

  “I know,” Emilia said. “Fifty thousand to him every week. Plus something to the prison staff to get him in without anyone looking inside his bag or checking to see what’s in those needles he brings. A little something for the orderly to make sure no one else uses this room every Tuesday morning. Bet your cell has a color television, too. A lot of girls are still out there hustling for you.”

  Julieta crossed her legs and swung her foot. “So what’s your deal? You want part of it, too? A little something to keep quiet?”

  “I want you to tell me about Lila Jimenez Lata.”

  “What’s with this girl?” Julieta exclaimed. “She was a pretty nobody.”

  “You talked to her.” Emilia leaned over and grabbed the neck of Julieta’s cotton prison shift. “She came to you looking for her mother. Then disappeared. What did you do with her?”

  Julieta reached around Emilia’s grasp and smacked the side of her head. Emilia let go of the dress and punched Julieta in the face. It was a tight hard jab, the kind that always set the heavy bag bouncing on the chain, and it propelled Julieta to the edge of the examination table with her legs spread wide to reveal black underwear. Emilia lunged over the table and grabbed her dress before the woman toppled over the side.

  As Julieta flailed for a handhold, Emilia dragged her sideways across the table and caught her in a headlock that had the blonde woman staring at the ceiling with her butt balanced on the edge. The woman kicked at the wall and Emilia bounced her hard against the table. Julieta continued to fight and Emilia tightened her hold until the kicking stopped. Julieta made an involuntary choking sound.

  “You want to tell me about Lila now?” Emilia barked.

  Julieta gasped and reached over her head to claw at Emilia’s face. Emilia flipped the woman face down on the table with her hands pulled behind her. Julieta squirmed and only succeeded in getting herself turned sideways again. Emilia climbed up and sat astride Julieta. The woman’s hands were pinned behind her back, and her head hung off the side of the table.

  “Start telling me about Lila Jimenez Lata,” Emilia ordered.

  “You’re ruining my face,” Julieta panted as she turned red.

  “She came to see you just before you got arrested. What happened?”

  “I told her I didn’t know any puta named Yolanda.”

  “And then what?”

  “Sergio,” Julieta gurgled.

  “Sergio who?”

  “Sergio Diaz Centeno.”

  Emilia gave Julieta’s arm a shove. “Go on.”

  “He likes the young ones.”

  “Did you let him do her that night? Test her out?”

  “He paid good,” Julieta said, gasping in between each word.

  Emilia pulled the woman up but kept one arm twisted up behind her. “So she came to you looking for her mother,” Emilia said, sick at heart. “And you turned her out.”

  “I put her in a white dress,” Julieta said and coughed. “Lit a candle. She looked like a real virgin.”

  “You let this Sergio rape her,” Emilia accused.

  “She said she’d do it and I paid her decent.” Julieta was limp in Emilia’s grasp. “Showed her the kind of money she could make working regular.”

  Emilia fought to keep her anger in check. “And what happened afterwards?”

  “They went upstairs and I didn’t see them again,” Julieta said. “It was
the same night I was arrested. I took a girl out and haven’t been back to Mami’s since.”

  “So what about this Sergio?” Emilia tossed Julieta onto the stool vacated by Dr. Ramirez. “Who is he? Where does he live?”

  “He’s a lucha libre fighter,” Julieta said. “He comes sometimes to Mami’s for pool and the girls. They like him. He’s big. Good looking.”

  “A luchador?”

  “He’s part of the team with Alfredo.”

  “Alfredo Soares Peña,” Emilia said, recalling the other name that Alvaro had given her. “He’s visited here.”

  “Of course he has.”

  The woman’s hands went up to the blonde hair and smoothed it back under the headband. Emilia caught sight of the thin tattoo encircling one finger. “You’re married to him?”

  Julieta tucked more hair in place and straightened her dress. “You keep away from Alfredo, puta.”

  Emilia didn’t care about the skank relationships between well-preserved hookers and their lucha libre swains. “Where do I find Sergio?” she asked, standing in front of the stool with her arms crossed.

  “There’s a gym in Colonia Santa Cruz,” Julieta said, naming a neighborhood on the west side of the city. “I think on Calle Zaragoza.”

  “What’s the same of the place?”

  Julieta shook her head. “I don’t know. Alfredo talks about old Tinoco. I guess he runs it. A lot of luchadores train there.”

  “What about home?” Emilia asked. “Where does Sergio live?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where does Alfredo live?”

  “Above Mami’s.”

  Emilia gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going back there. Before she found Alfredo and got him to tell her where Sergio lived, she’d be dead in the gutter behind the place.

  She tried another angle. “You said that Alfredo and Sergio are part of a team?” Emilia had never been particularly interested in lucha libre fights, with their capes and theatrics, but it was hugely popular. The most popular fighters—the ones that made it to the national level—often kept their identities secret. They used stage names and masked costumes. Three-man tag teams known as trios were especially popular. “Who are they when they fight?”