by Kelly, Diane
Witnessed? Crystal had gone much further than being a mere witness. I realized then that Bustamente was using that disarming technique Detective Jackson had mentioned. It was the same tactic Columbo had used in those TV reruns I watched as a kid. It had been quite effective, too. Play dumb and the criminals don’t fear you, let down their guard, slip up.
“A crime?” Crystal said. “What crime? Where?”
“At the stock show?” the detective prodded. “A thief snatched some purses in the ladies’ room. She took wallets from a couple of men, too.”
Crystal’s eyes blinked rapidly in bewilderment. She clearly didn’t know how to respond to Detective Bustamente. I could practically read her thoughts. How much does this guy really know? Should I rat on myself and hope the cops will show me some mercy? Or should I remain silent, exercise my rights? Her eyes flicked down to Brigit. No sense trying to run. That oversized dog would catch me. Dammit!
A thirtyish man in a starched shirt and chinos stopped at the end of the aisle, spotted us, and headed our way. “I’m the store manager. Everything okay here?”
Bustamente raised a palm. “Everything’s fine, sir. We just need to speak to Miss Hood about a crime she might have seen taking place. Mind if we take her out front so we can talk privately? See what she knows?”
“Be my guest,” the man said. “I hope Crystal can help you out.”
Bustamente tossed him a thick-lipped grin. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be a big help.”
Seconds later, the four of us were standing next to the building in the cold and dwindling daylight. Brigit snuffled along the bottom of the building as we talked.
Bustamente cut right to the chase. “Miss Hood, we believe you might have seen the person responsible for the thefts at the stock show. Two of the women whose purses were snatched remembered you from the bathroom. They noticed your boots. They said you were on crutches?”
Crystal shook her head vehemently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Nonplussed, Bustamente raised his hands. “Look, Miss Hood. You’re not in trouble here. We know you had nothing to do with these thefts.” Yeah, right. “We’re just trying to find out if you might have gotten a good look at the thief.”
Crystal stopped arguing and stood there, chewing her lip, her arms crossed over her body as if to shield herself from the truth. She stared at Bustamente, a look of fear on her face, like he knew her most shameful secret and was about to share it around the supper table at summer camp.
Bustamente lifted both his round shoulders and his palms. “We have absolutely no idea who this woman is.”
Crystal’s posture relaxed, her spirits evidently buoyed by the detective’s admission that law enforcement was clueless.
“The woman who took the purses,” Bustamente continued, “she got away with a nice chunk of cash.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket and rattled off the amounts that were reported stolen. “Let’s see. She got fifty dollars the first night, over two hundred the next time.”
Crystal’s eyes narrowed. Bustamente had evidently struck a nerve. I surmised from the woman’s reaction that the thief hadn’t given Crystal her full due.
Bustamente returned the pad to his pocket. “Here’s the problem,” he said. “We don’t know who the woman is, but it’s awfully important that we find her. Now I’m going to share some inside police information with you, and I need you to keep this to yourself. Okay, hon?”
Crystal nodded. “Okay.”
“This thief?” the detective said. “Her fingerprints were lifted from a cattle prod that she used to fry one of her victims in the stock show parking lot. Those same fingerprints were discovered on a bottle of champagne found under the bed in a hotel room on the north side.”
Crystal’s expression became perplexed. “I don’t understand. She was at a hotel? Did she rob someone at the hotel, too?”
Bustamente let out a long sigh. “Yes, she did. Robbed a man blind, Miss Hood. Every valuable he owned taken.” He leaned even closer to Crystal. “The man she robbed? He was found dead in the room. With a pillow over his face.”
It wasn’t a lie, though the implication was misleading. But we had to mislead Crystal so that she would lead us to the thief.
Bustamente let his words hang in the air for a moment, giving Crystal a chance to process them. Once she had, she gasped and her eyes went crazy, darting about. She didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, either, putting them first to her shirt collar, then crossing them over her chest again, then wringing them.
“She killed the man?” Crystal asked. “Murdered him?”
Bustamente didn’t exactly confirm Crystal’s words, but he didn’t exactly contradict them, either. “He’s dead as a doornail.”
“Oh, my God!” Crystal expelled on a hysterical breath. “Oh, my God!”
The detective raised one of his wild brows. “This woman, this blonde, she’s in some mighty big trouble.”
“No!” Crystal cried. “She couldn’t—” She put a hand to her mouth as if to hold her words back.
Bustamente cocked his head. “She couldn’t what, Miss Hood?”
She gulped, as if forcing down emotions, and removed her trembling hand from her lips. When she spoke, her voice quavered, too. “I was just going to say that … um … I don’t see how someone could do something like that. Something so … terrible.”
“Do you remember seeing the woman?” the detective asked.
“No,” Crystal said. “I mean, the stock show is crowded, and there’s lots of people going in and out of the restrooms.”
“That’s true,” Bustamente said, pulling out his cell phone. “Maybe these video clips will jog your memory.” He retrieved the video files from Starbucks and Kroger, held up his phone, and played them for Crystal, along with a third video clip that showed the thief and Sam Gunderson stumbling into the Stockyards Hotel. The detective paused the video and pointed to the thief. “This is her. The woman we’re looking for. Do you recognize her?”
Crystal shook her head, but it seemed as much a nervous tic as an indication of denial. Still, I had to give her credit for not ratting out her friend.
“All right,” Bustamente said, sliding the phone back into his pocket and retrieving his business card. He held the card out to Crystal. “If you happen to think of something, please give me a call. Okay, hon?”
Nodding, she took the card between two fingers as if she were touching something radioactive.
FIFTY-SIX
THE CHASE IS ON
Brigit
Brigit could sense Megan’s tension, smell the adrenaline her glands seemed to be producing by the gallon. They sat in the cruiser, waiting on a dark side street. Brigit only wished she knew what they were waiting for. Still, she knew it was at tense moments like this when her special skills would be needed. She might chew up her partner’s shoes, but she’d never let her partner down on the job. Brigit kept her ears pricked for sounds, her nose wriggling for scents, and her eyes on the dark street around them.
After a few minutes, a voice came over the radio. It was a man’s voice. The voice of the man who’d been with them at the boot store a half hour ago.
Megan started the cruiser and slowly pulled away from the curb.
Brigit stood on her platform in the back of the squad car. Looks like the chase is on.
FIFTY-SEVEN
FINGERPRINTS AND FINGER-POINTING
Amber Lynn
Bam-bam-bam!
The frantic knock on the door of her apartment sent Amber Lynn virtually jumping out of her skin. She’d been on edge since she’d heard of Sam Gunderson’s death, had been debating what to do.
Should I go to the police, confess my crimes, explain that I hadn’t meant to kill Sam? Oh, hell no. This was America, where she was innocent until proven guilty. If the cops wanted Amber Lynn, they’d have to build their own case against her. She’d never had anything handed to her. Why should she hand this case to them?
S
hould I run? There seemed to be little reason to flee. Even though the police suspected foul play, she’d been careful not to leave any fingerprints at the scene. She doubted anyone could positively identify her. She wasn’t a regular at the White Elephant Saloon and she’d paid cash for her margarita. In fact, suddenly running off without explanation could raise suspicions. She’d decided she was better off staying put.
After the convenience store clerk had shooed her away, she’d tossed Sam’s things out at a trash can at a rest stop. She had also gotten rid of the designer purses she’d taken from the women at the rodeo, putting them in a trash bag along with food scraps and throwing them out in a garbage can at a city park. She’d been sorry to see the nice bags go, but if things worked out with Kevin he’d be able to buy her all the designer purses she could ever want.
And speaking of Kevin, could this be him? If so, he was an hour early for their date. Not likely. Who was it then?
Her heart seizing up in her chest, she stepped to the door and looked out the peephole. She hadn’t turned on the porch light, so all she could see was the movement of an unidentifiable head. Damn! What should I do? If she turned on the light, whoever was out there would know she was home. What if it was a cop on her porch? She’d rather them think she was out.
“Amber Lynn!” came Crystal’s voice through the door. “Open up! Right now! It’s an emergency!”
Thank God! It’s only my sister. Amber Lynn turned the knob and opened the door. “What do you want? I’ve got a date coming over.”
Crystal pushed past then whirled on her. “You killed a man!” she shrieked. “Smothered him with a pillow!” She burst into terrified sobs. “How could you do that? How could you?”
The better question was how did Crystal know about Sam? Her pulse rocketing into power drive, Amber Lynn grabbed her sister by the shoulders. “How did you hear about this? Tell me now!”
“The cops!” Crystal cried. “They came to the store today. Just a little while ago. They know I was in the bathroom when you stole those purses. They asked if I knew who you were!”
Sheer terror welled up in Amber Lynn, making her feel foggy and frantic. As stupid as her sister was, she might have told the police something they could use to positively ID Amber Lynn. As it was, the police were far too close for comfort. How the hell had they tracked down Crystal?
“What did you say, Crystal?” She dug her nails into her sister’s shoulders and gave her a firm shake. “What did you tell them?”
“Nothing! I told them I didn’t know who you were. But they’ve got videos! They’ve got you at Starbucks and at Kroger and at the hotel!”
Holy fuck.
Amber Lynn released Crystal and turned, pacing back and forth across the room. “How was the film? Was it clear? Could you tell who I was?”
“I don’t know!” Crystal grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen counter to wipe her eyes, then took a seat on the edge of the couch. She waved the paper towel around. “I mean, I recognized you, but maybe it’s only because I know you. I think other people would have a hard time telling that it was you on the video.”
Okay, okay, okay, thought Amber Lynn. Calm down! The jig isn’t up yet.
Bam-bam-bam! A fresh knock sounded at her door, followed by a male voice. “Fort Worth Police! Open this door! Now!”
The jig appeared to be up.
Panic seized Amber Lynn in an iron grip. But just as quickly, she forced the panic aside.
No.
Not yet.
This jig was just getting started and Amber Lynn was putting on her dancing shoes.
FIFTY-EIGHT
I DON’T DO WINDOWS
Megan
Bam-bam-bam!
“We said open up!” hollered Detective Bustamente.
Still the door remained closed, the porch dark. My heart twirled in my chest like a baton completing 5,000 rpms. I pulled my nightstick from my belt and flicked my wrist to extend it. Snap! I readied my heavy-duty flashlight, too, turning it on but aiming the beam down for now.
Brigit sat quivering next to me, unleashed, ready to spring into action on my command.
When still no one opened the door, Bustamente raised a beefy leg and went to kick the door in. Just as his foot was about to make contact, the door whipped open and he ended up falling forward, knocking Crystal back onto her ass on the carpet.
Brigit and I squeezed past them into a small living room. My eyes scanned the space, looking for the blonde.
“Where is she?” I demanded of Crystal. “Where’s your sister?”
When Crystal had entered the apartment a short time ago, Detective Bustamente and I matched the unit number to the corresponding number painted on the assigned parking spaces, finding Amber Lynn Hood’s yellow Chevy Spark in the spot. Another quick search of the vital statistics records confirmed that Amber Lynn and Crystal had the same parents.
Sisters in crime.
I was shocked to realize it was the same car I’d seen driving away from my apartment complex all those days ago, but suddenly things made sense. Amber Lynn had probably sold Catherine Quimby’s Vicodin to Dwayne Donaldson.
On the floor, Crystal burst into sobs and gestured toward the bedroom. “She went in there.”
I dashed into the bedroom to find one of the two windows wide open, the screen knocked out. I gave Brigit the signal to follow the woman’s trail out the window, while I ran back through the living room, out the front door, and onto the sidewalk.
The sounds of Brigit’s toenails clicking on the cement along with the pounding of her paws told me the woman had run off to the left. I ran through the dimly lit parking lot, holding my flashlight up to illuminate my way. I swung the light around but saw nothing. No thief. No dog.
I yelled as loud as I could, issuing the order for Brigit to bark so I could locate her.
Woof! Woof-woof!
Sounded like they were off to my right now.
I took off running in that direction, passing several tenants who’d evidently just arrived home from work. They stepped back as I ran past, their heads turning to track my progress.
Woof! Woof-woof!
Brigit’s barks grew louder and louder. I was getting close.
I rounded a brick wall and found myself in an alley with multiple Dumpsters. Brigit had the woman backed up against the wall between two of them. The woman had a gun in her hands.
A gun that is aimed at Brigit.
“Nooo!” I shrieked, hurling my baton at her forearms just as she squeezed the trigger.
Bang! A bright muzzle flash lit up the night and Brigit dropped to the ground.
“Nooo!” I shrieked again, a madwoman now, hurling myself at the shooter this time.
The force of my body impacting hers knocked her to the ground. I landed on top of her. The gun slid out of her hand and under the Dumpster, out of her reach. I grabbed my baton from the asphalt and leaped to my feet, ready to beat this woman to death for killing my partner.
To my surprise, Brigit leaped to her feet, too. I supposed when she dropped to the ground she’d merely been cowering from the gunshot noise. Thank God! Perhaps that holy water she’d licked from my fingers had given her some divine protection.
The woman rolled onto her belly and tried to push herself to a stand, but there would be none of that. I put my foot on her ass and sent her tumbling forward on the gritty asphalt, then ordered Brigit to keep her down.
A few seconds later, Bustamente and Crystal ran up beside me.
“You got her!” Bustamente said, pumping a victorious fist.
“You got her!” Crystal wailed, falling to her knees on the ground beside her prone sister.
I called Brigit off the woman, and Bustamente and I bent down to cuff her.
“Help!” she screamed, flailing about on the ground. “Police brutality!”
“Be still!” I ordered, grabbing for her arm.
She was still struggling, still fighting, but between the two of us Bustamente and I final
ly managed to get her shackled.
“On your feet,” the detective said.
She responded by turning onto her back and kicking out at him.
Swish, whap! One stroke of encouragement from my baton was all it took to settle her down.
“Okay! Okay!” she cried. “I’ll do what you say!”
We dragged her to her feet. She cursed the entire way as we led her back to her apartment, directing some of the slurs at us, others at the world in general.
Back in her apartment, I pointed my baton at the couch. “Sit down. And don’t move or my dog will tear you to bits.”
As if to add credence to my threat, Brigit offered a growl and bared her teeth.
Bustamente put his hands on his knees and bent down to look Amber Lynn in the face. “You want to talk? Tell us where you hid the jewelry and stuff?”
She responded only with a glare.
Detective Bustamente and I left Amber Lynn Hood sitting on her couch with Brigit keeping watch as we searched her unit, starting with the bedroom.
“You take the closet,” Bustamente said. “I’ll start on the dresser.”
I opened the closet and began pulling boxes of accessories off the shelves to look through them.
Back in the breakfast nook, Crystal had totally given up by then, willing to accept whatever fate might have in store for her. She simply sat at the dinette table and cried, wiping her eyes with a paper towel. “Why’d you do it, Li’l Sis?” she said finally. “Why’d you kill that man? Why’d you drag me and Heather into all of this?”
Bustamente and I exchanged glances.
He stepped to the bedroom door and looked out at Crystal. “Who’s Heather?”
“Our other sister,” she responded between sobs.
He pulled his radio from his belt. “She the other one who used the pillowcase to rob those two women?”
Crystal nodded.
“Where is she now?” he asked.
“At home. At our parents’ house.”
“She have her gun with her?”
Crystal shook her head. “She never had a gun. They used lipstick.”