by M. Z. Kelly
“Being truthful with me would have been a good start.”
“So, what do you think about giving it a fresh start? Maybe I can come by on Friday and...”
“Jack, no.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking that maybe we both need to move on. I’m not happy with the way things have gone with us.”
There was a long silence. Finally, he said, “I’m not giving up on us, Kate. Please don’t give up on me.”
Before I ended the call, I said, “I’m not giving up on anything. I’m just not ready to restart a relationship that I’m not sure is the right thing for either of us.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
I didn’t get much sleep last night thanks to Jack’s phone call. I was still turning things over in my mind, wondering if I’d done the right thing, as Bernie and I walked into the squad room. When I saw Jessica and Charlie squaring off, I temporarily forgot about my troubles.
“This is my desk,” Jessica said to Charlie who had a stack of boxes on the floor beside him. She then looked up and saw me. “What are you doing here?”
“Things didn’t work out between me and Brian,” I said, placing my own boxes on my desk. “I got my job back.”
“It’s my desk,” Charlie said to Jessica, “and I want it back.”
Even though he was angry, Charlie had a smile on his face. I knew what that meant. My partner finally got to take advantage of his Internet porn research last night.
“I’ve had this desk for years,” Charlie added, picking a box up off the floor and placing it on the desk.
“This is a nightmare,” Jessica said. “I’m talking to the lieutenant.”
A moment later, we were all gathered in Edna’s office, each of us making a case for our territorial rights.
The lieutenant finally held up a finger and wagged it. “Not another word. This is how it goes.” He turned to Charlie. “You’re going to find a chair, pull it up, and share desk space with both Kate and Jessica. You can keep your stuff in boxes until Jessica’s partner returns and she moves back to her own desk in a couple of weeks. For now, just smile and think of it as a three-way.”
“But I’ve had that desk for years,” Charlie fumed.
“And I’ve had an ulcer for years. I’ll be happy to give it up as soon as you all get out of my fucking face. NOW!”
Apparently the arrangements weren’t suitable to Jessica. A few minutes later, when we all assembled in the conference room with Edna and Pearl to prepare for our meeting with the feebies, she made her demands known.
She jabbed a finger at Charlie and me. “If I’m going to spend another two weeks with Mr. Munchie and Attila the Hen, I want a bill of rights.”
Charlie was eating a jelly donut and squirted the contents onto the table in front of him. “You must think you’re some kinda god damned hotshot lawyer,” he said, still smiling. He licked the jelly off the edge of the donut.
“I have been disrespected, verbally harassed, and ridiculed by these two,” Jessica said to the lieutenant. “I want a written document that outlines my rights as an employee.”
“I’ll go get you some toilet paper,” Charlie said. “I’ll even help you write it and file it.”
“See what I mean?” Jessica said, turning back to Edna.
“Somebody go find me a refer-fucking-ree,” the lieutenant said. He looked at Jessica. “You want a bill of rights, here it is. Each of you will speak in a courteous and professional manner when spoken to. You will not discuss anything, other than work-related matters, until Jessica’s partner returns and she goes back to her former assignment. And you will not come into my office squabbling and squawking like a pack of angry ferrets. That’s the bill of rights. Anyone got a beef with it, go take it up with the union.”
“That is unacceptable,” Jessica said. “You’ll be hearing from my union representative.”
Charlie took another bite of his jelly donut. It squirted across the table onto the sleeve of Jessica’s blouse and across her notepad. She stood and screamed, “See what I mean? He did that on purpose.”
“Sometimes a guy can’t always control where he squirts,” Charlie said.
Jessica unleashed a storm of obscenities that I think even made the lieutenant blush, before stomping off to the lady’s room.
“Fuck me with a witch’s broom,” Edna said.
After a five minute rant from Henrietta about being fucking professional, we turned to the task at hand, preparing for our meeting with the feds. The lieutenant used the time to pop antacids and curse his fate at having to supervise us.
After Jessica returned and special agents Walsh and Jones arrived, we took a couple of hours to talk about Chief Reed’s resignation and then summarize where we were on the wedding murders.
So that we were all on the same page, I went over the notes of my interview with Mags Warner again and updated everyone on what she’d said.
“I think Mags has a lot more knowledge about Marcello’s business arrangements but, unless she makes a miraculous recovery, we’ll never know,” I said.
Pearl then updated us on Arroyo and Andrews. “We were able to get a search warrant for their residences since they went missing a couple of days ago. We found some statements showing that each of them had over a million dollars in the bank.”
“Payoffs from Marcello,” I said.
“No doubt, but we have no way to prove it. All the deposits were made in small cash increments over a period of several years. When we did the search of Andrews’s house, we also found a key to a safe deposit box. We’re trying to match the key to a financial institution.”
“We’ve been able to piece together a few more details on Jimmy Marcello’s business dealings,” Special Agent Walsh said. “As you’ve previously determined, there’s a company called Abex Holdings. It’s located in Puerto Rico for tax purposes.
“Abex takes revenue streams from a variety of Marcello’s illegal businesses, such as prostitution, fraud, and gambling, and reports the money to the IRS as being invested in U.S. companies. The ownership of these investments is, in turn, assigned to their Puerto Rican operations. They use the method to report most of their earnings as coming from overseas, rather than in the U.S. The result is that Abex earned over a hundred million dollars last year, but paid nothing in taxes.”
“It sounds like corporate robbery,” Edna said.
“Yes,” Walsh agreed. “But, these tax havens are legal and used by a variety of corporations to, in effect, hide their revenue and avoid taxes.”
Jessica spoke up, ”I already determined that Abex has an investment in a company called MWC that Michael Clinton owned.”
Special Agent Jones said, “Good work, Detective. But if you’d dug a little deeper, you might have found out that the money invested in MWC was specifically for revenue and development.”
“What difference does that make?” Jessica asked.
Walsh took over again. “The money was invested directly into Michael Clinton’s inventions. Marcello ended up co-owning several of Clinton’s patents. It made him a small fortune.”
“It sounds like Michael Clinton was a goldmine for Marcello,” I said. “Would he have stood to gain anything by Clinton’s death?”
“We’re still looking into that,” Walsh said. “If we can prove there was some financial gain—that Marcello stood to profit from Clinton’s death—we’ll have a basis to subpoena Abex’s records.”
“That seems like a giant leap,” Jessica said, apparently miffed that she hadn’t found out the patent information herself. “And Abex will likely cook the books and fail to disclose anything worthwhile.”
Walsh smiled at Jessica. “We’ll just have to see about that, Detective.”
“Did you talk to Clinton’s accountant, Hank Stanley?” I asked, knowing that he was on the FBI’s list of subjects scheduled for follow-up interviews.
Walsh nodded. “He swears he’s just a low-level numbers cruncher, didn’t know anything about Clinton’s business
dealings. I’m inclined to believe him.”
***
After our meeting, Charlie and I drove to the Police Administration Building. Charlie had to turn in paperwork showing that he was medically approved to return to work, and I had to sign some forms that officially reinstated me to duty. My resignation was to be withdrawn and my temporary absence from work would be termed a personal medical leave.
On the drive downtown, Charlie confirmed what I’d suspected. “Wilma came by last night,” he said.
I hoped he wouldn’t go into details and didn’t respond.
His smile grew wider. “I think those on-line classes I took while I was on leave are really paying off.”
“I’m happy for you, but do me a favor and spare me the details.”
“You ever read that book, Fifty Shades of Grey?”
“No,” I lied. The last thing I was going to do was discuss kinky sex and bondage with my partner.
“Wilma read it and gave me some of the details. We’re talking about putting in a room.”
“What kind of room?” I asked, regretting the words as they came out.
“You know, where we can use some leather and other stuff.”
OMG! The thought of Charlie and Wilma wearing leather and whipping one another was too much. I did my best to suppress my smile, but the more I thought about it I ended up losing control and laughing out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Charlie asked.
“I was just thinking, maybe I’ll write a book.”
“What about?”
“I’ll let you read it when I’m finished. I’m going to call it, Fifty Shades of Grumpy.”
Charlie spent the rest of our drive not speaking or smiling, which was fine by me. I much prefer grumpy, silent Charlie to happy, chatty Charlie.
After arriving at police administration, my partner sulked off to do his paperwork. I was completing my own reinstatement forms when I saw Karen Holloway and said hello. I’d known the lieutenant for years. After chatting for a moment, she told me about some classes that she’d recently taken.
“I was in Washington last week for that Homeland Security Training,” Karen said. “The department wants me to do a local version of the training material for the divisions.”
“I’d like to attend the class,” I said.
“While I was there, I happened to run into Jack Bautista at the airport. Maybe you remember him? Used to work in vice before he went to work for homeland.”
I nodded. Apparently she didn’t know that Jack and I had been seeing one another. “Yes, I’ve met him.”
She smiled. “It looked like he’s really enjoying his new assignment.”
“I guess that’s a good thing.”
Her smile broadened. “He was with an attractive blonde.”
“Oh, maybe she was a co-worker.”
“I don’t think so. They looked real chummy and at one point she hugged him.”
“Really?” I said, feeling my heart rate spike.
“I guess it’s no surprise. That guy always seemed to have a way with the ladies.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
After dropping Charlie at the Hollywood Station parking lot, I dialed Jack’s number. I was still furious about what Karen Holloway had told me. When I got him on the line, I held nothing back. “I understand that you’re really enjoying your new assignment.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. “I’m doing...”
“I ran into Karen Holloway at the Police Administration Building today. She said that she saw you at the airport a couple of days ago.”
“Oh, I must have been in a hurry, didn’t see her...”
“Really. You apparently weren’t in too big of a hurry. Karen said you were busy, very busy, as a matter of fact.”
“Kate, I was...”
“Stop with the excuses,” I spat into the phone. “She saw you hanging all over an attractive blonde.” I was on a roll and took a deep breath, not letting him interrupt as I unloaded with both barrels. “Listen to me carefully, Bautista, so there’s no mistake about what you hear. We are over, finished, history, done. Do not call me again—ever.”
When I ended the call, I was shaking with anger. After a good cry and some deep breathing, I managed to pull myself together for the drive home.
On a whim, I decided to turn off Hollywood Boulevard and stop at Wattles Garden Park, thinking that a walk would give Bernie a little exercise and me a chance to further settle my nerves.
The small park had been vandalized in recent years thanks to junkies and pushers who sometimes used the grounds as a mobile storefront. A portion of the Japanese teahouse on the grounds had burned down, what was left now off limits to visitors.
I let Bernie sniff along a trail as I tried to find some emotional closure to my relationship with Jack Bautista. After six months of dating him, I felt like I had been played big time. He had known about my failed marriage, how my ex had cheated on me. Jack also knew the divorce had destroyed both my finances and my self-esteem. Now here I was a few months into the relationship with history repeating itself. Not only did the SOB lie to me about why he took the job in Washington, he’d probably been cheating on me the whole time.
“That bastard,” I fumed. Bernie looked up at me, probably feeling the vibration of my rage on his leash.
I knew the timing was wrong. I knew I should probably have waited a day or two. I knew it was classic rebound behavior. But I found myself pulling my phone out of my purse and punching in Mack’s number.
“Kate, I’ve been thinking about you,” I heard Mack say. “How is the case going?”
“The case has at least been reopened,” I said, trying to control the pitch in my voice. “We’re trying to put some things together about Marcello’s business dealings with Michael Clinton.”
There was a hesitation. “Are you okay? You sound a little upset.”
“No, I mean...I’m fine, Mack. It’s just that...I’ve made some decisions about moving on. I’d like...do you think maybe we could get together and talk.”
“I’d love that but I’ve got to go out of town for the night. Can I call you tomorrow?”
I heard the resignation in my voice as I said, “That would be great. Talk to you soon.”
I ended the call, feeling the tears again stinging my eyes at the same time Bernie’s leash was jerked from my hands.
“Bleib!” I yelled, using the German command for stay. My big dog was already twenty yards away, heading for a black and brown dachshund. “Damn it, Bernie. I don’t need this tonight.”
I finally caught up to him just as the dachshund was snatched up in her owner’s hands.
I was grabbing Bernie’s leash when the elderly woman turned on me and said, “Get that fucking dog under control or I’ll call the god damned cops.”
I was in no mood for her attitude. “Take a look at the badge on his collar, my gun. It won’t be necessary. I am a god damned cop.”
The woman turned red, venom spewing. “Is that some kind of threat? Because if it is, I’ll file a complaint.”
“Go ahead lady, file a fucking complaint. At the same time why don’t you tell them you’re a foul-mouth old bitch carrying around a little wiener.”
I pulled Bernie down the path as, behind me, the woman unleashed another torrent of obscenities.
I was almost at my car when it happened a second time. Bernie was headed for a poodle, me giving chase, when I lost my footing. I did a semi-cartwheel and landed in a pond next to the walking path.
I was drenched and covered with mud by the time I pulled myself back to shore. I looked up and saw a man in a suit holding Bernie’s leash.
“Ma’am,” he said, extending the tether to me.
I realized he was a feebie, probably assigned to follow me for protection. “Thanks,” I said, accepting the leash. “Do me a favor. Keep this out of your report.”
He smiled in a controlled way. “I’ll do that ma’am. This is just between us.”
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CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
After showering and trying to do something with my hair, I tossed on some sweats and met up with my roommates in the family room. Bernie slinked off to a corner, apparently aware that his indiscretions had put him in my personal doghouse.
I accepted a glass of Chica Loca from Nana and then went for a bag of Fugs. If this wasn’t a night for “crazy girl” and my favorite junk food, there never was one.
I then made the mistake of opening my mail and finding a notice that my renter’s insurance claim for the fire damage to my previous apartment had been denied. I ripped the notice into shreds and plopped down on the couch.
“Rough day?” Mo said, coming over.
I looked over at her. “Let’s see. The wedding murders are unsolved, the chief of police has resigned, the city is burning thanks to a child molester, I work with an insane woman, my partner’s a tubby sex fiend, my dog’s also a sex addict, I broke up with Jack, and I was rejected by Mack.” I took a big gulp of Chica Loca. “Other than that it was just dandy.”
“Wow,” Mo said. “You need some serious therapy. Natalie and me are going shopping tomorrow. We’re going to that ninety-nine cent underwear store, cause I need some new thongs. Then we’re going to Shoeworld. Thongs and shoes, what more does a girl need? Wanna come?”
“I almost forgot, I’m also flat broke,” I said, popping a Fug into my mouth like it was an aspirin.
“Maybe you just need to get laid,” Nana said. “I can loan you Mr. Peepers.”
“She needs a man, not a machine,” Natalie said, coming over. She walked up behind me and began rubbing my shoulders.
“Suit yourself,” Nana said. “I’m going to call it a night, gallop off into the sunset.”
That called for an even bigger gulp of Chica Loca.
“Tex has a brother who’s coming to visit in a couple of weeks,” Natalie said, as Nana left on her stairway stallion. “We could set you up.”