by Edward Lee
He got back on track. “So what exactly happened? I mean, to Adams and North?”
That somber croak came back to her voice. “Nobody knows.”
Phil ran a hand across his cheek, scruffing stubble. “Okay. But what do you think happened to them?”
Her brow rose wide. “Me? I think they got killed by the same people who did the job on those dealers. They’re probably at the bottom of one of the swamps, chained to a couple of manhole covers. You ask me, they got too close, so they got offed.”
“Yeah, Vicki, but what did they get too close to?”
“I don’t know,” she wavered.
I know, Phil thought. They got too close to your Creeker hubbie’s angel dust bizz. That’s what they got too close to. So he murdered them. I gotta funny feeling you know that, Vicki. But you’re not gonna say it because you’re covering for your husband. The same guy who’s using you for a piece of meat to show off to his dope friends. The same slimy, ugly motherfucker who strung you out on cocaine and has you turning tricks at a low-rent strip joint.
She was reaching into her purse again, repeating the phantom ritual of her curse. Two minute scoops of the white powder disappeared from the spoon up her nose, and again Phil felt torn between two opposing poles. The part of himself that still cared about her, and then the other part, the cop part, the part that knew if he objected, he’d be letting personal feelings obstruct the integrity of the case.
Holy shit, he thought very slowly. What am I going to do?
The coke was wiring her up now. Her face flushed. She was breathing faster, she seemed antsy. She kept sniffing at nothing but the air, and was rubbing her hands unconsciously up and down her nearly bare white thighs. That must be some first-class blow he’s feeding you, Phil thought. Probably pure. The purer the better, right, Vicki? The easier to keep you in line, to keep you destroying yourself for his wallet and status. Then the saddest reflection of all hit him in the head…
Coke addicts never lasted long. They used themselves up. What would Natter do when there was nothing left of her?
The same thing he probably fucking did to Adams and North and Rhodes and all those other people…
That’s the way it worked. Eventually coke-queens outlived their usefulness. Then they became a liability.
A guy like Natter? He’d toss her out like next week’s garbage.
This was hard. This was a woman he used to be in love with, and here he was sitting in a car with her, watching her coke herself to oblivion. And knowing there was nothing he could do about it made him feel even worse.
But what could he do? Spill it all? Reveal the entire undercover operation to her? She’d squeal in a heartbeat. Or what else? Quit the department, drag her into the county rehab program knowing there was only a ten-percent success rate?
All I can do right now, he commiserated, is play the game.
“Phil?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
He supposed he should have known this was coming. Why hadn’t he foreseen it? She was wired now, coked to the gills, and even though she had undergone a catastrophic change since their relationship had ended, her feelings for him probably hadn’t changed. I’m the only reminder she has that her life hasn’t always been the hell it is now, he figured.
Her hand was on his leg. He could feel its subtle heat.
“How did things get so screwed up?” she asked in the most forlorn voice he ever heard.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Her hand slid up. Her body slid closer. “Why don’t we, like, pretend…that nothing bad ever happened to either of us?”
An impulse reached him, like an alarm. The urge to push her hand away, to berate her, to tell her there was no going back. But instead, he did nothing to dissuade her.
He made no reply at all.
Which, in this particular circumstance, was the same thing as a clear consent.
There was no rebreaking of any old ice. Instead, some weird, inexplicable current in the air drew them closer…
The night joined them.
She was kissing him immediately. Her slender bare arms at once slid about his neck. I cannot do this! he ordered himself. This is crazy! I’m a cop! I’m on a case!
Her tongue licked across his lips.
No more! This is where it ends! I’m going to stop this right now!
She untied her halter, slipped it off…
No! Phil thought.
She slipped off her shorts—
No.
—then her panties.
Nnnnnnn…
Phil’s resolve died flat, like a machine whose tank had just run dry. His eyes opened on her. His heart surged. She sat facing him, her back against the passenger door. The soft moonlight buffed her marble skin; her perfect body glowed.
“You used to say I was beautiful.”
“You still are,” he replied with no forethought at all. The words didn’t even sound like his own. “More than I ever remember.”
She came over to him again, sliding along in the moonlit darkness. Her mouth opened over his, and all he could do was lie back as if comatose. The moon seemed to peer at him, either as an accuser or the very face of his id.
Her warm hands roved all over him, gradually in their travels unbuckling his belt, unfastening his pants, lowering his zipper.
Their tongues slid together.
Her large breasts slid against his chest.
Into his ear she whispered, “I still love you.”
Aw, God, no, don’t say that. Say anything, but don’t say that…
“I-I never stopped,” she finished.
Her hands found his waistbelt, and began to work at getting his pants off.
I can’t be doing this, his thoughts made one last waning effort. Then the effort flitted away, like the fireflies outside.
No, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but by this point he knew he was going to do it anyway.
— | — | —
Seventeen
Phil parked behind the local Qwik-Stop, about a half-mile away, then cut through the woods up to the station. It was perhaps an extreme precaution but a worthwhile one. Now that Phil was insinuating himself among the locals, he couldn’t take the chance of letting his car be seen anywhere near the station. True, he could’ve called Mullins on the phone, but—
Not good enough, he thought, hoofing it past the old lockup and across the back lot.
This has got to be face-to-face.
Phil didn’t like loose ends.
It was just past 9 a.m. when he slipped in through the back door. Mullins, as usual, was pouring himself an acrid cup of coffee and chewing tobacco at the same time.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Mullins chuckled. “Ya know somethin’, Phil? You’re startin’ to look like a pure-bred redneck. Maybe this plainclothes business is bringing out the real you.”
“I hope to Christ not,” Phil said, but he knew what Mullins meant. Boots, old jeans, flannel shirt, plus he hadn’t shaved in two days. To play the part, he had to look the part.
“How come I can always tell when you’re pissed off?” Mullins asked. “You don’t even have to say nothin’. I can tell just by lookin’ at ya.”
Phil sat down. “You know what I did this morning, Chief?”
“Hmm. Let me guess—”
“Don’t bother. I called up the personnel office of the Fairfax Police Department. I also called Montgomery County PD. And neither of them ever heard of North and Adams. Said those guys never even filed applications.”
“Oh, jeeze.” Mullins sat down himself then, behind his desk. His belly stretched his police shirt to its absolute physical limit.
“How come you lied to me, boss?”
Mullins chewed on the accusation. “I wouldn’t exactly call it lying. Let’s just call it—”
“What? A tactical circumvention of facts?”
“Well, yeah. That sounds good. I kinda like it. A tactical circumvention of facts. You got your
self a dandy vocabulary, Phil.”
“Fuck my vocabulary,” Phil said. “How come you told me North and Adams left for better-paying departments?”
Mullins gusted a big sigh. “‘Cos I needed ya, Phil. This PCP shit is turning the whole town to garbage, and it’s makin’ me look like the garbage man. You might not’ve taken the job if I told you up front why North and Adams left.”
“So tell me now. What happened to them? Are they dead?”
“Dead?” Mullins gaped. “No, they ain’t dead, but they sure as shit ain’t here. Things started to get too hot, so they both threw in the towel. Turned in their badges and boogied.”
Phil smirked plainly. “Come on, Chief. The whole story.”
“All right. North and Adams were working on the PCP thing for a couple months. Then they got a lead on Natter’s lab, so the three of us checked it out one night. We was told he had the works back up in the hills past Hockley’s.”
“Who told you that?”
“Let’s just say an anonymous tip.”
“Okay. What happened?”
Mullins suddenly flinched, as if at a bad memory. “What happened was we nearly got ourselves killed. The whole thing was a set-up. There must’ve been two dozen of those fuckers waitin’ for us, a fuckin’ army of ’em.”
Phil didn’t quite get it. “An army of who?”
“Of Creekers. And they were all packing rifles and shotguns. We walked right into Natter’s ambush. I got myself an assful of 16-gauge buck. Wanna see the scars?”
“I’ll pass,” Phil said.
“Adams took a .308 in the upper leg, shattered his thigh bone. The bullet fragged and tore the living shit out of his knee, poor bastard’ll never walk right again. And North got nicked in the ear. Another two inches, and he would’ve got his head blowed off. By the time we got out of there, the patrol car was so full of holes it wasn’t even fit for the demolition derby.”
Phil leaned back in his chair, assessing his boss. Mullins had broken out in a light sweat, and when he took another sip of coffee, his big, fat hand was noticeably shaking.
“So North and Adams freaked?”
“That’s right,” Mullins said. “Said they couldn’t hack it no more, and I can’t say I blame ’em. North quit right away. And Adams quit the day he got out of his cast. Had to pay the fucker ten weeks of workman’s comp.”
Phil folded his arms. “That’s funny, Chief. I heard that neither of these guys quit. I heard they disappeared and were never seen again.”
Mullins’ lips puckered as if he’d just sucked a lemon. “You seem to be hearing a lot these days, and I think I know who you’re hearing it from. Don’t let Vicki Steele make a horse’s ass out of ya, Phil.”
“Shit, Chief. You haven’t leveled with me. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t believe her.”
“I’ll give you a bunch,” Mullins replied. “She’s a sexfreak, a stripper, a dopehead, and a whore. Plus she’s Natter’s wife.” Mullins hocked his chaw into the wastebasket, then loaded up another. “North is walking a mail route in Bowie, Maryland—after he took fire, he said he never wanted to be a cop again. Adams and his brother got a small-business loan and bought a liquor store in Whitehall. If ya think I’m bullshitting ya, then go right ahead and look up their names in my Rolodex and give ’em a call.”
Skip it, Phil thought. Mullins was coming clean now. But there was one more thing…
“All right, so you pulled my leg about what happened—”
“Naw,” Mullins interrupted. “I made a tactical circumvention of facts.”
“Fine. But why?”
“I told ya. I was afraid you wouldn’t take the job if I gave the full scoop right away. I was fixin’ to tell ya; I was gonna tell ya this week as a matter of fact. Figured you’d be agreeable once you got on the case awhile.”
“That’s pretty shitty, isn’t it?”
“Well, sure,” Mullins admitted. “But face it, Phil. Once a cop, always a cop. This case was cut out for you; I just wanted to give you some time to ease into it. You’d have taken the job anyway, right?”
Phil didn’t answer, but he knew the chief was right. He knows me better than I thought. “One more thing,” he said.
“Let me guess. Your ex-sweetheart blabbed shit about North and Adams. Stands to reason she’d blab more shit to boot. The bodies?”
“Yeah, Chief. The bodies. Vicki said there were over a dozen, all with their skin cut off like Rhodes.”
A wave of Mullins’ hand dismissed these mere details. “It wasn’t no dozen, shit—maybe seven or eight, and yeah, they were all done up like Rhodes pretty much. All dust cowboys from out of Crick City. I figure Natter’s got his Creekers hitting anyone who tries to compete with his own operation.”
“That’s what it sounds like to me, but that’s also beside the point,” Phil posed. “It would’ve been helpful for me to know about these murders before you sent me out on an undercover investigation, don’t you think?”
Mullins shrugged. “Keep your shirt on. I was gonna tell ya all about that too, just like I was gonna tell ya about North and Adams. But I thought it best—”
“To give me some time to ease into things.”
“Right.”
By now Phil’s frown seemed like a permanent fixture on his face.
Mullins spat again, sipped more coffee, and scratched his belly. “That night we got shot up, that was because none of us knew what the hell we were doin’. North and Adams, sure, they were decent cops, but they were town cops, Phil. They didn’t have the know-how to get on with a serious dope and murder investigation, and neither do I. But you do know what you’re doin’. You’re an expert at this kind of job; Christ, that’s all you did out on Metro. If I’d thought for a minute that you weren’t experienced enough to hack the heat on a case this hot, then I never would’ve rescued you from that brain-dead goin’-nowhere yarn factory you were rotting in uptown. I gave you a chance because I figured you deserved it. Not many chiefs would” —Mullins paused to stretch— “considerin’ the shit on your record at Metro.”
This little reminder took some of the punch out of Phil’s petulance. The chief had a point; Phil knew dope networks like the back of his hand, and he knew what to expect. But Mullins? And hicks like Adams and North? No wonder they almost lost their asses. Those guys don’t know PCP from a PCV valve.
And another consideration began to smolder. Who am I to get pissed off at him for not exactly following protocol? Last night relit in his mind: Vicki.
They’d made love in his car for over an hour.
I haven’t exactly been following protocol either, he had no choice but to remind himself.
“So let’s get it all right out on the table,” Mullins began again. “Without you on this case, it won’t be long before the whole county knows about it, the papers, the news shows. Sure, I got a vested interest, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t. My fuckin’ job, you know. Natter and his Creekers are turning Crick City into a pile of shit, and I’ll be the one goin’ right down the crapper with it. But it ain’t just the job—this pissant, redneck burg is my home and it’s yours, too, whether ya like it or not. You don’t owe me nothin’, and I don’t expect you to stick your neck out to save my job as chief. But, shit, Phil, you must care a little about what Natter’s doing out there. He’s getting kids turned onto his shit, nippin’ ’em in the bud before they even get half a decent chance at life.”
“I was a narc lieutenant for several years, Chief,” Phil refreshed the big man’s memory. “I know what dope does to kids.”
Mullins spat another streamer. “And don’t forget about what Natter did to your ex.”
Another reminder.
Phil hitched uneasily in his seat.
“So like I was sayin’, if you feel I done you wrong, then I apolergize. And if you wanna turn in your badge right now and tell me to get stuffed, then I’ll understand. Shit, I guess I’d deserve it. Sure, it might get real hot out there on a case like this, but
you knew that from the start. I wasn’t stonewallin’ ya, Phil. I just didn’t want to hit you up with too much at once, that’s all.”
“Relax, boss. I’m not going to turn in my badge. Just try to keep me a little more informed in the future.”
“‘Course I will.” Mullins rubbed his hands together. “So are we friends again?”
“Sure, Chief.
“Good. Now tell me what’cha dug up at Krazy Sallee’s last night.”
“I hung out with Eagle Peters—”
“Your buddy with the rap sheet full of angel dust?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t push him for anything. It’s too early for that just yet. I have to pin the guy’s confidence before I can expect him to trust me. And, yes, I ran into Vicki last night, too,” Boy, did I run into her, he thought “I figure if I get in good with both of them, they’ll spread the word that I’m cool. Then I’ll be able to get closer to Natter’s net. I’ve got Vicki thinking I’m a dust-head, and Peters probably reads me as a kink.”
“A kink?” Mullins asked. “Why’s that?”
Phil’s stomach gave a minor quake at the memory. “Natter’s got a back room open at the joint. They only let certain people in.”
Mullins made a face. “A backroom? What’s he got going back there? Blackjack, craps?”
“Nope, that’s what I thought it must be at first. But then Eagle got me in; he’s a trusted regular. It’s another dance stage back there. They got Creeker girls tricking.”
Mullins nearly expectorated coffee and tobacco simultaneously. “You’re pullin’ my leg, right?”
“Wish I was, Chief. It was pretty gross, but I played along like I was into it.”
“Smart move.” Mullins wiped brown juice from his lips with a napkin. “Only whackos would want to see that kind of shit, and I’ll bet half of them are Natter’s distributors.”
“That’s what I’m betting, too,” Phil said. “I’m gonna try to get into there whenever I can, and try to cross-reference the regulars with my parking lot photos. I should be able to link some of them to their vehicles, then I can run their tags with MVA, get their names, and run rap checks from there. That way we’ll know who to keep a special eye on. Plus I’ll be keeping my ears open for anything I might pick up along the way.”