“You gotta admit, that was pretty slick,” Thompson cocked her head and nodded approvingly. “It would be so full of prints and DNA from public use as to be worthless in the investigation.”
“The whole thing is a hell of a mess. That's for sure.”
“Counting our man, they found six dead, no survivors. Makes our double homicide small by comparison.”
The Chief leaned back in his chair. “Two is enough for our little city. How do these things all tie together?”
“More love.”
The Chief raised an eyebrow.
“Don't even look at me that way. I'm serious. It's nothing but love on this. The whole thing ties together. Our guy Wilson, the male pimp who lived. He worked for Ascia. It seems the Texas Massacre brought Galletti out of retirement. So with Ascia dead, Galletti showed up here in Billings to look after his operation.”
“You're figuring something went wrong, and they ended up in a gun fight?” the chief asked.
“Exactly. What did I tell you? Nothing but love,” Thompson said.
“Can you prove he was here?”
“We can prove Galletti was here at the right time. We know he had several men with him but don't know who they were. We can't prove our shooter with the gun was one of them. Not yet, but I'm working on it.”
“What about your girl in our jail. The one you arrested in Tulsa?
“No love on that one. My case against Miss Washington was circumstantial at best and pretty weak. I can't find anything to tie her and Galletti or Ascia. Everything I look at says they aren't connected. With the strong evidence against our Houston shooter, I think it's best to release Miss Washington before the DA makes me. I'm headed over to the jail from here. I want to tell her myself. You never know, I might learn something.”
“Pat . . .”
“Yeah chief, what?”
“Thanks. I'm not ready to retire, not for a while yet, but this should be the last big case of my career. It will be a big mark in the plus column. I'm glad I took over on the case, and happier it was you. Good work.” He leaned over the desk and shook her hand.
“You're welcome.”
“Now, let me bask in the joy of all this good news and go let that young woman out of our jail.”
“Nothing but love, Chief, nothing but love.” Detective Thompson left the chief’s office and called the jail. She gave instructions to have Miss Washington brought to visiting.
.
Thirty-One: Billings Equilibrium
THE THREATENED STORM arrived with snow. Big fluffy flakes soon stuck to the ground covering yards and streets. Cold days and colder nights proved fall had decisively won the struggle against summer. Heavy coats and rubber boots replaced summer wear. Winter was on the way.
Deja finished processing out of the Billings jail and stepped out the door into the clean, free air. Three women stood close by. Michelle and Nikky waved and ran over. Detective Thompson stood back watching.
“Hugs! I need hugs.” Deja met Michelle in the middle of the walk and grabbed both of them in a big bear hug. “Don't say anything about anything,” Deja whispered first into Michelle's ear, then quickly repeated the same message to Nikky.
After more jumping, hugging, and swaying, Michelle stepped back. “Inspection time. Let me look at you.”
Deja held her hands up, “Look Ma, no nails, no bruises.” She twirled a full circle. “No marks, no fights, no problems. I'm okay.”
Michelle grabbed her again for one more big hug, Nikky joined in.
After the hug, Deja stepped back and tilted her face up. She stuck her tongue out trying to catch a snowflake. “Free air and look at this pretty snow! It’s like God threw me a party.”
“Leave it to you to think that black sky and freezing snow is pretty. Here put this on before you realize how cold all this pretty snow is.” Nikky handed Deja a thick padded ski jacket.
Deja put on the jacket and gave Detective Thompson a pursed lip look of disgust. “What! Not satisfied? You had me in your jail all this time for nothing? I don't have anything to say to you.”
“I remember what you told me in the visitor room. I'm here to talk to Michelle,” Thompson said.
Michelle recognized Detective Thompson’s voice from their earlier phone conversation. She also recognized how they were dressed alike. Both wore sensible shirts, fitting but not restrictive pants, low heel boots and blazers under a heavy wool overcoat. More important than her choice of clothes, Michelle read the determination in Thompson’s steady eye contact and bitch stitched into her thin lips.
Michelle paused, slowly turned, and faced Thompson squarely. “Not now and not here.” She checked her watch. “If you want to talk, meet me at the lobby of the Northern at four.”
“Just a couple questions,” Thompson said.
“No, you don't have questions.” Michelle fired back. “You have an opportunity which is about to close. You can say yes and come to the hotel, or say no, you're not interested. But short of arresting me for standing on the sidewalk, you can't talk to me now. Which is it?” She stood, hands on hips, more challenging than waiting on an answer.
Detective Thompson’s lips compressed. Her upper lip completely disappeared. “Yes.”
Michelle turned her back to Detective Thompson, grabbed Deja in a last hug. “Shower or lunch first?”
“Shower, definitely a long hot clean shower.” With Deja in the middle, holding hands like little girls, the three friends headed to the parking lot.
* * *
Michelle and Nikky hung out in the suite while Deja showered. As long showers go, it wasn’t record breaking, but might have made the semifinals. Dressed in sweats and a huge smile Deja joined them in a cloud of steam, baby powder, and fresh deodorant.
“Better?” Michelle asked.
Deja plopped down on the end of the couch and continued to towel dry her hair. “I feel like a new woman. Nothing like the luxury of a hot shower and clean hair to get rid of the funk of jail. What’s the schedule? I thought we’d be out of here, but you agreed to meet Thompson later. What’s up with that anyway?”
“When you leave is up to you,” Michelle said. “There’re a few flights out to L.A. this afternoon. I need to stick around. PJ’s flying up in the morning. Twelve of the women decided to join her. They’ll follow her up on the train in a few days.”
“Okay. I get it, but . . .” Deja’s face clouded up.
“What’s the matter?” Nikky asked.
“Well, jail really sucked big time, and I hoped we could do like last time I got out,” Deja said. “Maybe go clubbing, get my swerve on. I don’t know what it is about jail, being locked up makes me horny. But I understand if you need to work. It’s been a hell of a mess with everything happening.”
“Like I said, it’s up to you. But just in case you were in the mood, I did set you and Nikky up. I know a guy here in town who has a few friends.”
Deja threw her towel at Michelle. “You are such a brat!”
“Are they good looking?” Nikky asked.
“My guy is. He’s hot in the sack too.” Michelle cocked an eyebrow and did a shimmy in her seat. “Fair warning.”
“Oh no, here it comes,” Deja said. “Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water. Tell us.”
“He’s a cop. He didn’t say, but his friends are probably cops too.”
“What is it with you and cops?” Deja asked.
Michelle put on her most innocent face. “What? I was up here doing research, and he just sort of fell into my lap.”
“Don’t you mean he fell into your bed?” Deja put on her most stern resting-bitch-face – RBF – then grinned.
“No, not at all. I fell into his bed. Besides, didn’t you have a good time with that cop from the shooting range back in L.A.?”
Deja went to the window. “I’m free, big beautiful flakes are falling outside, and I’m gonna get laid tonight. What could be better? Of course, we’re staying. Isn’t that right Nikky?”
“It’s your party,” Nikky said. “Whatever you say. How about some lunch and get your nails done before we meet with the Detective.”
“Perfect! I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Dressed like that?” Michelle pointed to Deja’s rumpled sweats.
Deja looked down. “Sure. Oh, well, give me a minute. What clothes did you pack?”
Twenty minutes later they headed to the downstairs café for lunch.
* * *
With new furnishings and recently updated design, the well‑appointed lobby of the Northern Hotel harkened back to an era when large lobbies were a mark of opulence. Michelle chose the seating by the gas fireplace. She sat in an upholstered chair. Deja sat with her feet tucked under her, in a matching chair beside Michelle's. Nikky commandeered one of the two short couches that completed the four-piece arrangement. At five minutes to four, Detective Thompson entered the lobby and came over.
“At least you're good to your word I see.” Detective Thompson’s comment came across more like an accusation than observation.
Michelle leveled her flat gaze at the detective. “Okay Detective, let's get this straight. You asked to talk to me. We’re all here as a courtesy that you haven't earned. If you don't restart in a friendlier manner, your next comment will be the last one of this conversation.”
Detective Thompson stood by the fireplace, Michelle remained seated. They held each other’s eyes.
After a short, intense pause, Thompson broke eye contact. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
Michelle nodded. “Have a seat. What's on your mind?”
“Deja here is out and clear. That doesn't mean I think you and she are even close to innocent. I know you, both of you, were involved in the homicides here. I also believe you were connected to the guy in Cheyenne. No, I don't believe it, I know it. Also, I'd bet big money you had something to do with those messes down in Tulsa and Houston. Again I don't know how, but as sure as we're sitting here you were up to your eyeballs in all of that. I'd even bet you were deep in the first big mess in Houston a little while back.”
“That is some rather serious thinking on your part,” Michelle said. “Of course you only think these things. Or, should I say, you can only imagine those things.”
“I want you out of my city.” Thompson’s voice rose. “For good. If I catch wind of your being here, I’ll find a reason to drag your asses in. I'll make your life miserable just for breathing our fresh air.”
Michelle calmly took a breath and glanced around the room while nodding. “Detective, you have made your position clear. However, there are other perspectives you may not have considered. Perspectives that can help you with your job and be beneficial to your fair city. Which by the way,” Michelle winked, “I’m beginning to take quite a liking to.”
Thompson glared at Michelle. “I doubt you can say anything that would make me remotely consider letting you stay.”
“I have no desire to live here. Business is different. I'm quite interested in doing business here.”
“Don't even think about it. Try that shit, and I'll throw you under the jail.”
Michelle looked the detective over. Blonde, medium height, slim, sensible shoes, busty hidden by loose clothes. Certainly not Kate Becket. More like a cross between the cute lieutenant, Connie Murphy, in the Harry Dresden fantasy books and Ellen DeGeneres. “Are you familiar with the discussion on situational ethics?”
“It's bullshit. Something is wrong or right. The situation doesn't make it that way.”
“Talk about bullshit. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“That's how I see it. You're on the wrong side of this thing, and circumstances don’t make your actions right.”
“Killing another human is always wrong. So our soldiers should be tried for murder when they come home? Is that what you're saying?”
“That's war. War is not murder.”
“Too big a gap? Okay. Work with me on this. Imagine. A mid‑winter blizzard is raging. You've had an accident. You’re miles from nowhere out in this God forsaken countryside. You're injured, on foot, no communication, and you stumble onto an isolated ranch used for human trafficking. Starving children have been abandoned there. You can’t make it to town, but you can get to the ranch next door that has a stockpile of food, but no one is home. What are the ethics? Do you let the children starve because stealing is unethical? I think continuing to starve the children is ethically the greater wrong.”
“An extreme and imaginary situation.”
“Do you watch TV Detective?”
“This isn't TV, and your made up situation is still all just so much crap.”
“Of course it isn't TV. I was thinking of how many shows put the cops in a position where they have to make a judgment call on offering a deal for a lesser crime for a guaranteed conviction.”
“Your point?”
“Surely you would pass up a jaywalker to arrest a drunk driver. Or, go for an assured manslaughter over an iffy murder charge. Even if you knew the guy did it, but you would lose the heavier charge in court.”
“Again, what's your point in this?”
My business interest in Billings is the jaywalker in this situation.”
“What's the drunk driver?”
“Drugs. I can give you a way to not only break the back of the drugs in your city but an ongoing conduit to keep it at a minimum.”
“What, so you can run the drugs yourself. No thanks.” Contempt almost dripping off her folded arm stance.
Michelle balled her hands into fists. “I hate drugs and won't have anything to do with them.” She rubbed her neck and scratched an eyebrow. “My offer is straight. I’ll help you keep drugs to a low ebb. That means a huge improvement on all the associated crimes. Fewer homicides. A lot less breaking and entering and theft. All the drug-related pissy‑ass stuff that makes a city a crummy place to live will drop.”
“How and why would you do this?” Thompson lifted her brows.
“Did you see the episode on Scandal—”
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Detective Thompson interrupted. “No more TV, movies, or books. Get to the point.”
“Well Detective, since you mentioned Jesus. Now I'm not a Bible scholar, but I have had the opportunity to read some of the things others have said. Do you know what they say about Mary Magdalene?”
“The Bible, really? You're going to go there?”
Michelle leaned forward, fixing her stare on Thompson. “Mary Magdalene. You have heard of her?”
“Fine. Yes.”
“Her job, or at least what some Bible scholars suggest she did and even how old time artists show her. What was her job?”
“She was a prostitute. Are you saying you want me to let you bring prostitutes into Billings?” Thompson snorted. “Yeah right, like that’s going to happen.”
“I'm talking about the Bible. Make of it what you will. However, if you were to think this through, you might see how such a business would put a person in place to know who is important and who is insignificant in other particular endeavors.” Michelle leaned back in her chair and took a deep and obvious breath. “Think about it. We don't have to like each other or even see eye to eye, but you know you'll never have an offer like this ever again. Blowjobs over robbery and homicide.”
“I'll think about it.”
“Please do.”
“When are you leaving Billings?” Detective Thompson asked.
“In a few days.”
“I prefer you leave today.”
“Not going to happen. You see, we have dates with some of Billings’ finest this evening. You wouldn’t want us to disappoint your fellow officers would you?”
“Don’t push your luck. I didn’t say I agreed, only that I would think about it.”
“And I appreciate it.” Michelle stood and offered her hand.
Detective Thompson, stood, shook hands and left without another word.
“What do you think?” Nikky asked.
“I don’t know,” Michelle answered. “I couldn’t read her face at all. How about you guys?”
“Only that she got pissed when you told her we had dates with some cops,” Deja said. “Why did you say that?”
“I wanted her to know either she cooperates or someone else will, and we are already cultivating our options.”
“That was one thing I’m sure she heard loud and clear,” Nikky said.
“I hope so,” Michelle said. “It would be better if she were on our side. But enough of that.” She grabbed Deja’s hand. “Our girl is out free, and we have some fun to get ready for.”
.
Thirty-Two: We Don’t Do That
BACK IN KIM NGO’S small café in Houston’s Little Saigon, Michelle enjoyed the sights, sounds and general ambiance of the distinctly Vietnamese environment. A wall mounted TV played an old western movie with Vietnamese subtitles. The sound was turned off.
Ahn Tu walked up behind the waitress. “Your Vietnamese is improving, but you'll always have an accent. Like never being a native speaker, you'll never be one of us.”
“Yeah, and here's a news flash for you,” Michelle snapped. “You'll never be one of us either, and it won't stop me from respecting you or working with you. So, as I see it, we can focus on insulting each other's race and grow to hate each other or focus on how we can help each other. I prefer to appreciate our commonalities and expect an improved future. What is your desire?” Michelle schooled her face not to show the anger she felt.
“I think you are as worthy as an ally as you would be a formidable enemy,” Tu said. “I think it's best to move forward with the wisdom of caution.”
“It takes one to know one.” Michelle smiled. “And looking to the future. You asked me to meet with you. How may I help you?”
Tu poured thin green tea over the ice in his coffee glass, mixing with the few remaining spoonfuls of coffee. It was a common practice in Vietnam, not in the States. He was the only American-born Vietnamese she had ever seen do it. For some, it might seem pretentious or affected. It felt natural for him to do it. She repeated the behavior, again showing she too had spent time in his ancestral country.
Hard Run: Action Adventure Pulp Thriller Book #4 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Series) Page 23