He wouldn’t take money so I gave him a six-pack of expensive beer instead and he was very appreciative. I was glad I hadn’t gotten tatted until Monday night because I’d have made a very different impression at the County Assessor’s with them, which was where I spent a good two hours Monday afternoon. The woman was very friendly and called the office up in Santa Fe since Edgewood was in the lower southwest corner of that county. I learned that 457 Partridge Lane was owned by Geraldine Hastings, Raymond’s grandmother.
After a search, I discovered that she didn’t actually live there. Rather, she was in assisted living in Albuquerque. That might mean a variety of things.
Maybe she didn’t know about Raymond’s activities.
Or maybe she did and didn’t care, as long as the mortgage got paid. Or maybe she didn’t owe anything else on the house and Ray told her he’d take care of it for her. Whatever was going on, he clearly wasn’t doing a very good job by her.
Sage was busy most of the day with an installation and then dinner with friends, so I didn’t see her at all.
She invited me but I had to head over to Dragon’s at eight and didn’t leave his place until around nine. I was tired when I got back to Megan’s and I didn’t feel like doing anything. I turned on the TV then wandered into the kitchen for an iced tea. I checked in with Melissa. She was packing. Hillary was out of town and Melissa suspected she was at her brother’s house in Santa Fe. I told her I’d check in the next day.
I let Chris know about the status of the Edgewood house that afternoon after I finished with the County Assessor. She was still waiting to hear from Colorado and Utah. I felt cranky and out of sorts so I turned off the TV and put my workout clothes on. Maybe a run would help. This area was primarily residential so I wasn’t too worried about traffic. I ran in the middle of the streets for about thirty minutes, working up a good sweat. Back at Megan’s, I showered, mindful of the tattoos, and pulled on a pair of boxers and a muscle tee. The edge of my irritation dulled, I headed to bed.
I HAD JUST finished eating more fresh cinnamon rolls with Sage the next morning. She had left for campus and I was sighing happily as I sat on the couch in Megan’s living room, staring at the ceiling. I liked that this thing between us felt untapped but familiar. I liked the flirtatious tension we shared. I liked how my stomach jerked and my heart lodged in my throat when she looked at me. And I especially liked how it felt to allow myself the luxury of being in the moment with someone who moved me deeply.
I was grinning like an idiot when my phone rang. I checked the ID. “Hey, Detective Magnifica.”
I heard Chris smile. “Hola, chica. Still haven’t heard. But I had a talk with Mark and we want you to wear a wire at your meeting today.”
My coffee cup froze on its journey to my mouth. I set the cup on the coffee table and focused on the call.
“Uh—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll come by at three. We’re trying some new stuff out and I think you’ll approve.”
“I’m not sure I’m down with this.”
Pause. “Here’s my thinking. You’re going to meet with Cody anyway. So why not help build a better case against him? I’ll monitor you and get the recording.”
“What if I can’t get anything out of him?”
“Then we don’t have anything. But this is an opportunity that’ll help everybody in the long run.”
I stared into my cup. This was way too much like real police work and it weirded me out a little. “Chris, I thought you said that there’s a reason civilians don’t do stuff like this.”
“You’re right. I did say that. But the reality is, you’re going to meet with him anyway and I would much rather be able to hear exactly what goes on than wonder whether you’re okay or not.”
She had a point. Even though I was meeting him in a public place in broad daylight, he might try something. I doubted it, since if he did try to start anything, he’d be on the outs with the shop. Still, you never know. That didn’t make me feel much better about a wire. “I don’t want to fuck anything up.”
“You won’t. And I’ll be really close. Don’t worry about that. I will not let you do this without back-up.”
She waited. I didn’t say anything. When she spoke again, she sounded contrite. “Look, I don’t want you going into this blind. I want to make sure you’re okay and I can better monitor that if you have a wire.”
That was an even better point. I relaxed. “Okay.
I’ll be here.”
“Excellent.” She sounded as relieved as I felt. “See you then. Bye.”
“Bye.” I flipped my phone closed and set it carefully on the coffee table, like it was some kind of explosive device. I sat staring at it for a while. A wire.
Whoa. This put a whole new imperative on how my conversation with Cody would go this afternoon. God, I hope I’m up to this.
TUESDAY MORNING CRAWLED into Tuesday afternoon. I kept myself busy. I checked Megan’s e-mail, checked my e-mail, called Grandpa, then Mom, and then checked in with my tree-hugging sister Kara.
Everything seemed fine with the family. Joely was busy in Germany but I had gotten an e-mail from her and already responded. I then cleaned the house, starting with the kitchen. By the time Chris arrived, the place looked like it was ready for Better Homes and Gardens.
“Damn. Sage is definitely a good influence on you.”
“Oh, no. I’m doing this for you. ” I air-kissed her and sashayed around the living room with my dust cloth.
She laughed and handed me a car key with an automatic door clicker thing. I looked at her, bemused. “You bought me a car? Sweet! I’ll clean the house more often, honey!”
“Police work is trying to get into the twenty-first century. That’s your wire.”
“Shut up. ” I held it up and looked at it. “You are so shitting me.”
“Nope.” She handed me a carabiner. “Clip it to this and then clip it onto your belt loop. The latest fashion accessory. Plus you’ll look so butch. You’ll have Sage falling all over you.”
I blushed and Chris grinned. She brushed past me and got herself an iced tea out of the fridge.
“So it’s wireless. What’s its range?” I clipped the carabiner to my belt loop.
Chris stood in the doorway to the kitchen and leaned on the wall. “It’s supposed to be up to fifteen hundred feet, but it works best closer. I like within a hundred feet, but five hundred’s probably okay.
We’re doing trial runs on a few.” She took a long drink from her bottle and screwed the cap back on.
“Okay, let’s do some testing. Stand outside and let me see how the reception is. Try not to move around too much and make it bump against you. You don’t need to worry about talking loudly or doing anything differently. Come on.” She picked my cell phone up from the coffee table and handed it to me.
I followed her outside and waited as she went back to the street. A minute dragged past. My phone rang.
“Okay, esa. Start talking after we hang up.”
“Okee dokee. Bye.” I ended the call and started rambling about anything and everything in my usual speaking voice. I wandered over to the chile and tomato plants and talked to them. Then I started giving a lecture on political movements. My phone rang again.
“Nice! Pretty clear. When I hang up, finish that political stuff. That was kind of interesting.”
She hung up before my retort. When she returned, we went inside and caught up a bit. She still hadn’t heard anything from Colorado so there would be no arresting Cody today. Oh, well. We finished our iced teas. She was watching me.
“Ready?”
I wiped my palms nervously on my shorts.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Remember, try not to think of it as a microphone. That’s just where you hang your car key. And don’t try to figure out where I am.”
“Okay.” I looked at her, a little freaked.
“Don’t worry. If anything happens, I’ve
got your back.”
I knew she did. But I was still nervous. We went outside and I locked up. Once in my car, I rolled down the window. Chris leaned in.
“Kase, this is your stuff. You know how they operate. You know what they need to hear to get them to talk to you. If I didn’t think you were up to this, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Thanks.”
“Suerte. I’ll see you in a few.” She squeezed my shoulder and stepped back as I pulled away from the curb. I needed to get my thoughts in order and I hoped the brief drive would help.
I arrived at Eight Ball with about ten minutes to spare. This time I drove through the alley that separated the strip mall from the residential neighborhood that backed up against it. Yep. Parking in back. Five other cars and a truck were parked here as well. I decided to walk around to the front, which took an extra couple of minutes.
A different girl was at the counter and seven people were waiting today. Three cholo-looking guys, a couple of white girls, one hip-hop guy, and a skinhead girl. I noticed a small swastika on the fleshy part of her left hand between thumb and index finger.
She wore black jeans, combat boots, and a plain white T-shirt. She studied me when I came in. I slid into a chair and started browsing through a tattoo magazine. When I glanced up, she was still looking at me. Poor thing, I thought. Get out of the movement and get a girlfriend.
A white man about my age emerged from the back, a gauze bandage on his neck. He was wearing gangster clothes and a do-rag. One of the cholo guys stood up when a tattoo artist I didn’t recognize joined the guy at the counter, telling him how to take care of his new ink. I figured it was Eddie, and he fit my stereotype of tattoo artists. He was a big, solid dude with a goatee and a huge mop of hair. His arms were so covered with tattoos that it looked like he was wearing a decorated long-sleeved shirt. He, too, wore black jeans but over motorcycle boots. The cholo who had stood up followed him into the back.
I turned my attention back to the tattoo magazine when the skinhead girl addressed me. “WP?” she asked, regarding me coolly.
I answered in my easily acquired Texas accent.
“Eighty-eight.”
She nodded. “You waiting for Cody?”
That almost caught me off guard. “Who wants to know?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Recon.”
Of course. Cody wouldn’t walk blind into a meeting like this. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t necessarily dumb. “Outside?” I offered. I unconsciously touched the key fob hanging on my belt loop, hoping Chris could hear this. Skinhead Girl got up from her chair and I followed her out into the heat. We stood in the shade in front of the building.
She leaned against the brick that separated Eight Ball from the closed dry cleaner next door, scanning the parking lot.
“The pigs up his butt?” I asked quietly, not really looking at her. I instead scanned the parking lot, too, trying to look a little nervous. It wasn’t hard.
“Maybe. We’ve had some problems.” She shrugged and pulled a battered pack of Marlboros from her front jeans pocket and pulled one out. She kept her lighter in the other front pocket. I watched as she lit up. Way to preserve the white race. She took a drag. I tried to look at her with disapproval. She either didn’t notice or ignored it.
“What are you looking for?” she asked as she exhaled smoke.
“Action. I wanna build something. I left Texas because the heat was on my home groups and I was tired of the beer and bullshit from the guys.” I shrugged and leaned carefully against the glass of Eight Ball’s front window. “Some land came open in the hill country down there and I thought we should look into it, but everybody found some excuse not to.
So I started looking here. I’m liking the East Mountains and land is cheaper, especially in the undeveloped parts.” Not bad. I’d almost believe that.
“What was your home group?” She put the cigarette to her lips, studying me. Testing.
“National Alliance, Dallas chapter. Last year we decided to rename and joined with a skin chapter. It didn’t work out. Male ego problems. They wanted to call us the Rangerskins but we thought the name White Nationalist Front fit our goals better. It got so bad that most of us quit.” I slid my hands into the pockets of my shorts and gave her a hard stare. “I want a group that doesn’t have any damn problems with leadership and is looking to plant some roots.” I hoped that was convincing.
She blew a stream of smoke out the left side of her mouth. “Sounds like we might be something you’re looking for.” She watched me. Her flat, expressionless stare creeped me out. I’d seen a look like that once before, when I was backcountry camping in Colorado a couple years ago. I was just below timberline and came face to face with a mountain lion. The cat stared at me, assessing me. I met its eyes once and quickly dropped my gaze so as not to appear that I was challenging it. Apparently, it wasn’t hungry enough to pursue a dinner out of me because it slid silently into a copse of ponderosa. I was shaking so bad after that I had to sit down for a minute. Skinhead Girl had that same kind of bored, predatory glint in her eyes.
She watched a car pull into a parking slot near the Eight Ball’s entrance, maybe twenty feet away. She quickly dropped the cigarette onto the sidewalk and stubbed it out under her right boot. I almost swore aloud. Megan’s car. Bastard. I hoped Chris was getting pictures of this. Cody shut off the engine and climbed out of the driver’s seat. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a navy tee decorated with a white skull and crossbones on the front. He stood about six feet tall. Slim but athletic.
Another white guy got out of the passenger side.
He was about Cody’s height and age though a bit more solidly built. I pegged him as the muscle. He wore his black jeans tucked into knee-high Doc Martens. White power fists in red decorated the black surface of his boots and his laces were also red. He wore a white T-shirt and red suspenders. Classic skin, though he needed another haircut, because stubble peppered his scalp. He wore black Ray-Bans and I noticed a few tendrils of a spider-web tattoo over the collar of his tee. The double lightning bolt of Hitler’s SS guards was etched on his inner right forearm.
Cody nodded once in greeting at Skinhead Girl as he approached. She nodded back. Then he looked at me. “Sandy?”
“Yessir,” I said, standing up a little straighter.
Skinhead Girl’s eyes narrowed. The other guy lurked in the parking lot, about ten feet from us. Keeping watch, I guessed.
“I’m Cody,” he said, extending his right hand. I shook it. I saw his eyes linger on my forearms and then move quickly to my chest. “Welcome to Spictown.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to sound grateful. I faced him, hoping I wasn’t moving too much and smacking the key fob on my belt loop around.
“When did you get here?”
“About three months ago. It’s been kinda hard trying to tap in.”
Two cholo guys came outside to smoke. Cody moved a little farther away but didn’t say anything to them. “Well, ADR has a lot going on, and we need all the help we can get. We’re just about ready to do some big stuff.” He sounded excited.
“Yeah?” I tried to appear interested without being over-eager.
“Yep. But you’ve gotta understand we can’t just let anybody in. Fuckin’ FBI and shit. And local cops’ve been in our business, too.”
“Sure. I hope you check me out. Otherwise, I’d worry about you and this group. We had problems in Texas and nobody took it seriously. Some cop managed to get in, which was part of the reason we split off into another group. She’ll fill you in.” I motioned with my head to Skinhead Girl.
He smiled then. “I have a good feeling about you,”
he said, trying his flattery with me. “So what specifically are you looking for?”
“Land.” I figured I’d better not dance around the topic.
His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I want a piece of land where I can bring some of my family.”
“You got a husband?”
“Not yet. But I’m working on it.” I gave him a meaningful stare and felt a modicum of satisfaction to see a smile work its way across his face. Yeah, you keep thinking you’ve got a shot with me.
“That’s the right attitude.”
The guy behind him was standing with his arms across his chest. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his shades. Skinhead Girl was glaring at me. I’d obviously stepped into her territory. I bulled ahead, trying to keep my edge. “Here’s the deal. I saved up a lot of money in Texas and I’ve been looking at twenty acres in the East Mountains. It’s three miles off the main road and I have enough for a down payment. I’d like to put my vision to work but to do that, I need help. So I’m looking for investors.”
His expression hardened slightly. I guessed he had a problem with pushy women. Good thing Sage wasn’t here.
I eased up just a bit. “Or, alternatively, I’d be an investor in a plan like that. I’m really tired of a bunch of whiny do-nothing poor excuses for the white race. I want to work with white men who aren’t afraid to act like men and white women who aren’t afraid to act like women. I’m ready for the next step.” I carefully folded my arms over my chest and looked up at him expectantly.
He studied me. The guy in the shades shifted his weight again. Finally, another slow smile broke across Cody’s face. “I think we’ve got what you’re looking for. And I don’t think you’ll need to buy anything on your own. We’ve already got something going in the East Mountains. How are you with guns?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m from Texas. And yes, I have a permit.”
Skinhead Girl glared at me again. She shot a glance at Ray-Bans.
Cody nodded slowly. “I think we can help you and I think there’s a place for you with us. We’ve got a meeting coming up.”
“Sounds good. When?”
“Thursday night in Edgewood.” He looked at me questioningly.
“I know where that is.”
“Okay. I’ll text you the address and time on Thursday. The meeting will probably be in the evening—can you make evening meetings?”
Land of Entrapment Page 23