Dead of the Day (2007)

by Karen E. Olson

  The Ford Taurus was, surprisingly, not as smooth as the Kia. Maybe I'd have to start writing auto reviews, since I was unfortunately becoming an expert.

  Dick Whitfield was at his desk when I came in, tapping on his keyboard, but not immersed enough in what he was writing not to notice me. He scowled as he looked up.

  ''What?'' I asked, waiting for him to say something.

  ''I heard you're taking vacation.''

  I glanced over at the editor's office and saw the back of Marty's head. ''What's up?'' I asked Dick, ignoring his comment.

  He shrugged and turned back to his computer.

  What the fuck was his problem? We practically saved his life yesterday; he should be more appreciative.

  Charlie had spotted me and was waving me toward his office. Uh-oh. I wasn't sure I wanted to get into it, but I didn't have a choice now. I made my way to Charlie's office, and both he and Marty looked up when I opened the door.

  Charlie's eyes started at my face and ran down the length of my body. It creeped me out.

  Marty closed the door behind me without even getting up. ''Do you have anything on the green card scam yet?''

  I shifted from one foot to the other. ''My mother's involved, but she won't talk on the record. I need to get what she said confirmed.''

  ''Which was?''

  I told them about the list and that she was getting help from someone in the community to try to nail Lucille.

  ''Can you get something from your FBI source?'' Marty asked.

  ''Hopefully.'' It would probably be a miracle if I did, but they didn't have to know that.

  ''You don't look so good,'' Charlie said.

  My face had a bit of rug burn from the impact of the airbag during my accident, and the bandage on my hand was askew, since I'd done a poor job of covering it up after Vinny left. ''I'm okay,'' I said.

  ''Are you going to continue to work on this?'' Charlie asked.

  I glanced at Marty. What the hell was going on here?

  ''I'd like to,'' I said.

  ''You look like hell,'' Charlie said again.

  ''It doesn't matter what I look like,'' I said. ''Listen, if I don't have something by the end of the day, I'll stay home, like a good girl. But I'll have something. I'll have the whole damn thing, okay? Don't worry about me.''

  Marty started to get up, but I swept out of the room as fast as I could before either of them could stop me. I managed to get to my desk and pick up my bag, ignoring Dick's raised eyebrows, and ran through the newsroom and down the hall, stopping only briefly to take a couple of deep breaths outside the building before making my way to my car.

  I'd told them I would have something today. I was fucked. I had broken one of the biggest unwritten rules: Never tell your editor you've got a story when you really don't.

  I sat in the Taurus in the visitors' parking lot and assessed what I had to do to get a story. But which one? The bees? The green card scam? The floater? Tony Rodriguez?

  The easiest one would be the green card scam, I figured. I just needed to get someone on the record about what was going on, and possibly find Lucille.

  I glanced over at the building. My best bet would be to talk to those girls in the mailroom again. They were still waiting for their green cards and they both knew Lucille. As I climbed back out of the car and into the rain, it seemed too easy somehow.

  But Garrett Poore wasn't going to make it any easier. He stopped me at the door.

  ''What are you doing?'' he asked.

  ''I'd like to talk to those girls again, you know, Car

  men and Luisa.'' My eyes scanned the room, but I didn't see them.

  He moved a little, obviously not wanting me to see past him. ''Sorry, neither of them work here anymore.''

  I frowned. ''What do you mean?''

  He shrugged and snorted. ''Someone''—and he emphasized this word as he stared me down—''told someone out there''—his arm swept toward the newsroom— ''that some of the workers here didn't have their green cards yet. So they were told to leave.''

  ''Well, it wasn't me,'' I said firmly, even though I remembered telling Marty that Rosario Ortiz had been illegal. But Garrett didn't have to know that. ''Do you know their addresses? I do need to talk to them. It's about their green cards.''

  Garrett gave me the once-over. ''I can't do that. You'll have to go to human resources.''

  I wouldn't get shit out of human resources, and he knew that. ''Come on, Garrett, let me talk to someone who's still here who knew them.''

  ''Maybe you just need to mind your own business,'' he said, heading back to his office.

  I stood in the doorway, trying to decide if it was worth pissing him off even more by defying him and just going over to talk to someone. But as I watched him watching me from his glassed-in office, I decided it wasn't.

  I went back out to my car, dodging the rain, and as I sat there pondering what the hell I should do next, the employee entrance door opened and Garrett Poore scrambled across the parking lot like the rat he was. What was he doing? It wasn't time for lunch yet, and he wasn't just stepping out for a smoke break. He climbed into a nondescript brown Buick and screeched out of the lot.

  I turned the key in the Taurus' ignition, put the car into drive, and followed him.

  Chapter 32

  I had spent a good part of the last few days following people in cars. I liked to think I was getting good at it. But as I got stuck at a light and watched Garrett turn a corner and go out of sight, I reminded myself that I wasn't actually personally driving much of that time.

  When the light changed, I figured I might as well give it a shot, and was happy to see that Garrett had been stopped at another light up ahead. Thank God for timed lights.

  He was heading for Fair Haven, and while I had been familiar with the neighborhood before, I was getting downright chummy with it these days. I wondered how much those houses on the river went for; maybe it was time to get my own house. Yeah, right. With my luck, the river would run right through the basement the first time it rained.

  Even with the rain, Grand Avenue was bustling with activity. Women pushed strollers with plastic covers and a couple of knots of young men, hunched over in their oversized jackets and jeans, moved along at healthy clips. I knew that most of the immigrants, legal or not, lived close to the main drag because they didn't have cars.

  Garrett eased his Buick up against the curb in front of one of those storefront churches. It wasn't the one where Rocco had seen my mother. This one was farther down toward the river on Grand Avenue. I doubted Garrett was here to take communion. He got out and went around the back of the building.

  I wondered if Lucille had her base in this particular church, where Garrett was taking a little spiritual leave during his workday. Interesting. He did know those girls; he did know they didn't have their green cards yet.

  As I stared at the church from across the street, I realized I didn't have a plan. Should I just barge in, hoping to find Garrett and Lucille and a stack of fake green cards on the table?

  A tap on the window near my head scared the shit out of me.

  Sam O'Neill's face was almost pressed up against the glass. ''What are you doing here, Annie?'' he asked.

  I could've asked him the same question, so I pushed the button and let the window descend a few inches. ''Nothing much, Sam. You?''

  ''Looks like you're staking out the church. Any reason?''

  ''Why would I do that?'' I asked.

  ''There's an AA meeting going on in there now,'' he said. ''Unless you're going to join them, I think they might not like it that someone's watching them.''

  AA meeting? How would he know that? Is that why he was here?

  ''This is a no parking zone.'' Sam added, indicating the fire hydrant just past the hood of the car. ''If you don't move, I'll have to give you a ticket.''

  ''Jesus, Sam, you're the acting police chief. Do you do that sort of thing now?'' I knew I was being a wiseass, but that was nothing new. I wanted
to ask him about Marisol and how he could be with someone who was the mother of his dead friend's kid, but that would be a little much. Even for me.

  But maybe, just maybe, I could use this little encounter to help my cause. Which was to get enough information to write a damn story this afternoon.

  ''Hey, Sam,'' I said. ''I'm glad I ran into you. I want to ask you about the green card scam that's going on.''

  He looked like I'd hit him with a two-by-four. For a couple of seconds, he just stared at me with the wind knocked out of him before saying, ''I don't know what you're talking about.''

  ''Officially,'' I said, like he hadn't even said anything. ''I need something official for the paper.''

  I opened the car door and got out, ignoring my stiff limbs. I glanced back at the church, but Garrett was still inside. The rain had let up, but I still felt a few drops hit my forehead.

  ''Annie, I told you I don't know what you're talking about.'' Sam's eyes were shifting from me to the car with the lie.

  ''Come on, Sam. My mother told me she'd spoken to you.''

  I hadn't meant to use my mother like that, but hell, I was desperate. And he stopped looking behind me and stared straight at me. ''It's out of my hands. You need to talk to the feds.'' He paused. ''What did your mother tell you, anyway?''

  I might as well come clean with him. ''She told me about Lucille and the green cards,'' I said. ''But it was all off the record. I need something I can write. She said she was hoping for an arrest warrant soon. She's got names of people who've been scammed.''

  Sam sighed. ''It's not that easy, Annie. None of those people really exist.''

  I knew what he meant: None of them were on the books legally, which meant their statements might not hold up in court. If they even showed up in court. ''But you have to do something, right?''

  Sam hung his head for a second, then looked back up at me. ''You have to talk to the feds. Jeff Parker at the FBI—he knows what's going on. His crew's in charge.''

  I thought about Paula and what she knew and what she wouldn't tell me. I couldn't write a fucking word until there was an arrest, because no one would tell me anything on the record until then. ''So you're just going to keep letting these people get exploited like that?'' I asked.

  ''They're not legal, Annie. I really don't give a shit if they're stupid.'' Sam barked the last word a lot louder than he obviously intended, because even he looked startled.

  My thoughts shifted in another direction. I had to get something; I had to get a story.

  ''What about Rodriguez?'' I asked. ''Do you have any leads on who killed him? Do you know who tried to kill Lin Rodriguez? Are the crimes related?''

  His eyes grew dark with anger. ''Goddammit, Annie, where did you hear that about Lin?''

  I couldn't give up Paula. I shrugged. ''I can't say.''

  He wasn't going to tell me shit now. He took a deep breath and hissed, ''Can you just stay out of our way so we can do our jobs? When we arrest someone, anyone, we'll let you know, okay?''

  I watched him turn and walk away from me, but I wasn't really bothered by it. Hell, I'd heard worse from other officials who wanted me off a story. Sam was actually pretty restrained.

  Garrett still hadn't come out of the church. Sam was walking up Grand Avenue. I watched his back as he sauntered away, the rain spitting on my head. I pulled my hood over my hair, but I knew it was too late. If my hair were shorter, I'd have an Afro by now.

  I opened the Taurus' door, but as I started to get in, I stepped back out again, looking over toward Sam.

  He was at the intersection with Blatchley. And he was getting into a green Honda that had slowed to a stop next to him.

  Chapter 33

  I had a quick decision to make, but it was complicated further by Garrett Poore, who decided at just that second to come out of the church and get into his car.

  I glanced from Garrett's Buick to Sam in the Honda, hesitating. Maybe Garrett's visit to the church wasn't sinister after all. Maybe he was here for that AA meeting, but I didn't really think that was possible. He certainly hadn't been in there long enough for an AA meeting. Not that I was an expert on AA meetings. As I pondered this, the Honda crossed Grand, still on Blatchley, until I couldn't see it anymore. The Buick moved down Grand in the direction my car was pointed.

  I wanted to go after Sam, but my hesitation had lost him. So I got in the Taurus and followed Garrett.

  Right back to the newspaper.

  My cell phone rang as I watched the Buick move around the gate and the paving project to the temporary employee parking lot. I pulled into visitors' parking and dug the phone out of my bag, glancing at the number.

  ''Hey, Vinny.''

  ''How you doing?''

  ''Sam O'Neill.''

  ''What about him?''

  ''I just saw him get into a green Honda in Fair Haven. Looked like it could've been the Honda that hit my car.''

  Vinny was quiet for a second, then, ''So where is he now?''

  I sighed. ''Lost him. I was following someone else, but it was a dead end.'' I thought about the church. ''I think I know where Lucille might be.''

  ''Then you know more than anyone else.''

  ''Why do you say that?''

  ''She's vanished. Like the stuff in the warehouse.''

  ''You knew where she was?''

  ''I got a tip about half an hour ago from one of the people on your mother's list. But when I showed up at the building where she supposedly did her business, there was nothing there.''

  I thought about those girls in the mailroom, waiting for their green cards, hoping to really start their lives here. I hoped my mother could help them now.

  ''You said Sam O'Neill got in a green Honda?''

  ''Yeah.''

  ''Well, a green Honda just passed me. And it's got a white streak on the side.''

  ''Where are you?''

  ''On Chapel Street.''

  ''Which direction?''

  ''The wrong direction. I'll turn around, and I'll call you back.''

  He hung up before I got a chance to ask him if I should head for Chapel Street, so I made an executive decision. I was just pulling out of the parking lot when the phone rang again.

  ''He's on the Tomlinson Bridge,'' Vinny said without saying ''hello.'' And a few seconds later, ''The car's turning down toward the port.''

  ''I'll meet you there, in front of New Haven Terminal,'' I said, disconnecting the call.

  * * *

  The road was deserted except for Vinny's Explorer. It was facing me. I pulled up next to it and rolled my window down just as his window came down. This was typical cop position, a real sixty-nine.

  Vinny smiled at me. His eye was better today, not that it wasn't still black and blue, but at least it was open more than a slit. ''Hey, beautiful,'' he said. ''Fancy meeting you here.''

  ''Where is he?'' I asked.

  He chuckled. ''Always have to get to the point. What about a little foreplay?''

  ''Shit, Vinny, where is he?''

  ''I don't know.''

  ''Did he leave?''

  ''Didn't see him. No one passed me. He must be in there somewhere.'' Vinny's hand swept the air, indicating the chain-link fences that kept the regular people like us away from the freighters. ''Have any sources over here who could let us in?''

  Didn't I wish. ''We haven't covered the port in years,'' I said. ''No one really knows what goes on over here.'' I cocked my head toward his SUV. ''Bees all gone?''

  Vinny grinned. ''I have to keep the windows open a bit to air it out, but, yeah, just like new.''

  ''Did you find Marisol?''

  The grin faded. ''That's the funny thing.''

  ''What is?''

  ''Marisol left her house in a green Honda this morning.''

  We were quiet for a few seconds, ''Is it the same Honda, I mean, the one that hit me?'' I asked.

  Vinny nodded. ''Yeah, I think so. It's got a long white streak on it, and it's a bit bashed up. What about the car you saw Sam ge
t into?''

  ''I was sort of far away,'' I said, ''but it could be the same one, too. I couldn't tell who was driving.'' I paused, thinking for a second. ''Hector said the car had been stolen. If that's true, why, then, would his sister be driving it? She couldn't be the one who hit me, could she? But then again, if she was, maybe Hector was trying to protect her by saying the car was stolen. But why would Marisol try to kill me?'' Even I was confused, so it was no wonder Vinny didn't say anything.