Criminal Justice

by Parker, Barbara

  In greater detail Martha repeated the story she had told Dan earlier. Her hands shook when she lit her cigarette, and from time to time she would get up and look out the open salon door.

  She said, “This is what Kelly told me. The house where it happened was owned by some guy from Mexico, and he had a bunch of people over that night. Kelly was there with her bassist, Bill-E, and another guy who played drums. The owner was a guitarist, and he had turned one of the rooms into a studio. He had money, so he had some pretty good equipment. They were in there jamming while the party was going on. About ten o’clock they hear this big crash, then some yelling and screaming. Guns go off. They stop playing and open the door. Then there are gunshots and smoke and cops are yelling ‘Federal agents! Get down! Get on the floor!’

  “Kelly threw away a couple of joints she had in her pockets and crouched down behind an amp. She could see into the hall, a big open area, and people were diving behind the furniture to get out of the way. Then some guy, a friend of the owner, comes tearing down the hall with a gun. Not a regular gun, an Uzi or something. Right behind him was a man in a jacket that said DEA. They went onto the enclosed back porch right next to where Kelly was. She couldn’t see them, but she heard the DEA agent say, ‘Drop it, Luis!’ He’s screaming in Spanish to drop the gun or he’d blow him away. And the other guy goes, ‘No, don’t shoot.’ Then he calls the agent a comemierda. And then three loud bangs. Right after that a couple more agents go out there, and one says, ‘What did you do?’ Then you hear the first agent say, ‘Give me his gun.’ Then there’s a noise like a machine gun, and at the same time cops are coming into the studio, telling Kelly and the bassist to lie on the floor. She said she thought they were going to die. The DEA agents ripped out the reel-to-reel tape that was still going, and they took it with them.”

  Dan glanced at Elaine McHale, who was still listening to Martha Cruz with perfect composure. He knew that she had to be horrified. Had to know where this story was going: If it was true, her former lover had committed murder not once but twice—Luis Barrios and Kelly Dorff.

  Martha continued. “A few months ago Kelly met that same agent. His name was Vincent Hooper. She almost didn’t recognize him because he had grown a beard. She nearly fainted. This was the same guy. The same. She was afraid to say anything, and nobody would believe her anyway. One day she told me about it. I told her not to do anything, just be quiet and wait for it to be over. After they arrested Miguel, it would be okay. We couldn’t tell Rick because then Miguel would know. He might kill her, or Rick, or all of us. But she was getting pushed by the DEA too, and she was afraid of Agent Hooper. Then Kelly thought of a way out. She remembered the DAT tape. The house had a studio with a reel-to-reel and also a digital-analog tape used for backup.

  “Kelly went to see the owner’s wife. He was put in jail, but his wife still had his equipment waiting for when he gets out, just the way he left it. The DEA got the reel-to-reel, but not the DAT tape. If you don’t know sound engineering, you’d miss it. The owner’s wife let Kelly have the DAT tape, then Kelly called up Vincent Hooper and told him she wouldn’t snitch for him anymore. I told her she had to. She couldn’t even play anymore—”

  Martha Cruz stopped speaking, but her body and face were tensed as if for the next words. She stared ahead of her. The smoke from her cigarette curled into two strands, intertwined, that drifted toward the open door.

  Dan glanced at Elaine. She made a small shake of her head. Wait.

  After a moment Martha’s lips moved. She left them parted as if she had seen a vision that stunned her. She spoke again. “Kelly was so scared she couldn’t concentrate on the music. I said … make them leave you alone. You have to. If you don’t, I’ll push you out of the band, I swear. I could have, even if it was her band. Miguel didn’t want to put any more money into it as long as she was in control. I don’t know if … her death was my fault. I couldn’t stand that. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her to call Vincent Hooper, but the band had to finish the demo. The concert is only next weekend, and Friedman is coming from New York, and I had to do something.”

  As if waking, Martha Cruz looked down at her cigarette, then leaned over to crush it out in her empty coffee cup. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

  Through the salon door Dan could see that the boat had slowly revolved on its pivot of anchor line, its stern swinging more to the south with the tide. There were no lights out there, only darkness.

  He heard Elaine get up and looked back to see her going over to the sofa. She sat on the edge, hands in her lap. “Martha … where is the tape?”

  “I talked to you because Dan said to, but I’m not going to let you have the tape.”

  “Where is it?”

  Martha’s eyes moved to Dan. “It’s in my studio.”

  “No.” He exhaled. “Your studio or the DEA’s?”

  “Mine.”

  Dan made a pained smile in Elaine’s direction. “Martha’s studio is at Salazar’s house.”

  Elaine said, “Well, can’t she go get it?”

  Martha pushed back her hair, exposing the left side of her face. Elaine winced. “Miguel did this to me last night. He said … if he ever caught me with Dan Galindo again, he would kill me. Then at the studio today—Manatee Studios—we got into an argument. He took me to his car and raped me in the backseat. He’s done it before, and usually I do what he tells me after that. But this time I sneaked out during a break and I didn’t come back.” She was crying. “I didn’t know, when I left the house today, that I wouldn’t be back. I’d have brought you the tape if I’d known, but I can’t get it now!”

  Elaine put a hand on her shoulder.

  Dan said, “No. You won’t go back there.”

  Martha looked at him. “You have to go.”

  “Dan? Why should Dan go?”

  “Because he’s the only one,” Martha said. “I trust him. It wouldn’t be hard. I have my key to the studio—”

  “Wait a minute,” Dan said.

  Martha came across the salon and looked down at him as he sat in the armchair. “There’s no fence, only some bushes. Nobody ever goes over there. They keep the dogs inside—”

  “Absolutely not,” Elaine said.

  “It wouldn’t be hard. He just unlocks the door, takes it off the shelf, and leaves.”

  The two women argued over Dan’s head. Elaine said, “Martha, did you ever personally listen to this tape?”

  Martha hesitated. “Well, no, but Kelly told me what was on it.”

  “Then how do you know she wasn’t making it up?”

  “Make that up? I saw the tape! She gave it to me to keep for her.”

  Dan said, “Wait. This is simple. Martha, just tell one of the maids to bring it to you.”

  “Right. Find one who isn’t loyal to Miguel. They tell him everything.”

  Elaine said, “I need to check this out. I can make a few calls on Monday.”

  Dan said, “Monday is too late, Elaine. Rick and I have to meet Paxton on Monday and give him an answer.”

  “I’ll ask for an extension.”

  “You do that. And tell him all about Agent Hooper while you’re at it.”

  Elaine gave him a sharp look and went over to the door. She put a hand on the frame and stared out.

  Dan said, “I refuse to send Rick onto Salazar’s property. We can’t send Arlo. Bobby Doyle is a pothead. How about the other guy, the bassist? What about him?”

  Martha said, “No. You’re the only one.”

  “Why?”

  “Scott can’t do it. He’d ask me why. He’s always asking questions. What would I tell him? What if he messed up? He doesn’t care about Rick. I trust you.”

  “He cares about the band, though. You’re in it. Tell him the truth. Miguel beat you up.”

  At the door Elaine had turned back around. “No. Not Scott Irwin.”

  “Why not?” It took Dan about two seconds to get it. “He’s DEA, isn’t he?”

 
Martha screamed, “What!” She spun around and kicked the nearest thing, the built-in cabinet holding the television and stereo. “He’s a narc? I could kill him. What about the concert? Oh, no. Another bass player. Rick is going to shit. How could this happen?”

  Dan turned her around. “Hey. Calm down. Tomorrow Miguel is going to meet Vincent Hooper. The DEA is going to offer him a suitcase with money in it. Hooper will be wired, and cameras will be going. If Salazar agrees to the deal, the DEA will arrest him on the spot. Then you can go back to the house. I’ll go with you.”

  Martha looked up at him, then nodded. “Okay. That would work.”

  “Good. So tonight I want you to call Miguel—”

  “No!”

  “Tell him you went to a hotel, not to worry, and you’ll be home tomorrow night. We don’t want him too nervous to miss the meeting.”

  Elaine was shaking her head. “A hotel? And who is she with, Dan? You’re obviously not home. If he has caller-ID and she calls from the boat—”

  “You’re right.” Dan dropped his hands by his sides. “We’ll just have to hope the meeting goes as planned.”

  Martha said, “It will. When it comes to business, Miguel doesn’t let anything bother him. It’s just his personal life that’s so screwed.”

  There were two staterooms below. Elaine said she and Martha would share the one with two bunks, and Dan could have the master stateroom. He said he preferred to sleep on the sofa, not in Miguel Salazar’s bed.

  They found something to eat in the cabinets: crackers, soup, and canned tuna. Around two in the morning Martha went off to sleep, leaving Dan and Elaine with the mess. “Let Miguel clean it up,” Dan told her. “It makes me sick, being on this damned boat. Sick to think I wanted to put Josh on it. I hate breathing the air in here.”

  Elaine turned around from the sink, a soapy dish in her hands. “Then go outside and cool off.”

  Dan went on deck to make sure the anchor rope was secure and the running lights were on. The sky was clear and starry black. Light fell through the salon door and windows and shone on the water, where it wobbled slowly on the surface.

  Dan thought about what Martha had told them. It seemed incredible. He had no doubt, however, that Vincent Hooper could have shot an unarmed man, particularly if that same man was a murdering doper who had slipped away from him the year before—Hooper’s way of handing down some belated, but well deserved, justice.

  Making his way aft along the port side, Dan heard Elaine call to him from the tower. He climbed the ladder and they sat on the narrow seat up there under the white canvas top, twenty feet above the water. She had brought two mugs of hot tea.

  “What are you thinking?” Dan asked.

  Elaine turned up the collar of her jacket. “I was thinking of Vince.” Then she glanced at Dan, smiling a little. “How sad this would be if it’s true.”

  “You can’t believe it.”

  “I guess I don’t want to.” She sipped her tea. The steam rose from the insulated plastic mug.

  Dan propped his feet on the stainless steel railing in front of them. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry you and he broke up.”

  “No. I can’t say that. But … a person can’t just … pretend it never happened.” She was looking at Dan. “You think he murdered Luis Barrios, don’t you? Would that make you happier if he did?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I can’t say it would make me happy,” Dan said. Elaine’s intelligent face was open without being naive. A light breeze ruffled her short hair. He asked, “What about Vince Hooper and Kelly?”

  “Well, I know he pushed her hard. He believed he had to. It occurred to me that Kelly could have invented this story. She was there, of course, so she has her own version of the events. Let’s say she turned them around so convincingly, even in her own mind, that she believed it that way. Then she made Martha believe it.”

  Dan took her hand. “Oh, Elaine. That’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t even conceive of it, can you? He’s not a nice guy.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “You mean … that Vince murdered Kelly Dorff? No. He couldn’t have. He was with Scott Irwin.”

  “According to whom?”

  “Scott told me.”

  Dan remembered him: Scott, the phony bass player. Blue hair shaved halfway up one side of his head. “He wouldn’t cover for Vince, would he?”

  “Good Lord, no. I think Miguel Salazar did it. If Kelly were gone, Martha Cruz would be the star of the show. You heard her tonight. Salazar is obsessed with her. He could have killed Kelly and tried to frame you for it. He told the police he was home playing cards with his sister when Kelly died. But Scott Irwin told me that Salazar left the house before Kelly did, knowing where she was going.”

  Elaine shrugged. “In any event, we’ll find out more tomorrow, once we have the tape. If it exists.”

  Dan put down his tea. He faced her and said, “You need to believe Hooper didn’t do it. You’re still in love with that SOB. Aren’t you?”

  “Oh, come on. If I can’t immediately accept Kelly Dorff’s story, it’s not personal. Since you seem to be concerned, my motivation is simply to find out how far the U.S. attorney’s office could be drawn into this.”

  “Never let your emotions run away with you.”

  She looked at him straight on. “I don’t usually. Except with Vince. I know what you’re thinking. Maybe you’re right. Poor Elaine, running out of control.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t.”

  Dan said, “Tell me something. I need a woman’s perspective here. Why would a smart girl like Martha put up with Salazar? For the band? Is she that ambitious?”

  Elaine held her mug with both hands and took a sip. “Okay. This is what I think. Kelly once told me that Salazar was ‘hot.’ That he’s scary and sexy. That appeals to some women, like it or not, at least in the fantasy stage. Sex and danger. The fantasy doesn’t last, of course, but by the time they realize what they’ve gotten themselves into, it’s too late. I think Martha went into it thinking she would use him. She stayed because he excited her. Then she couldn’t get out.”

  Sex and danger. Dan thought of Vincent Hooper, wondering if that had caught Elaine’s attention. He said, “Martha’s pretty sexy herself. Before he shot at me tonight, Salazar said he loved her. Or whatever he thinks is love. She must’ve driven him wild.”

  Elaine raised her brows. “You find her attractive?”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Well … in theory. I mean, I wouldn’t consider, in real terms, sleeping with a girl like that, but in an abstract sort of way she’s attractive, I suppose.”

  Elaine laughed. Her face, usually so serious, glowed with amusement. She trailed off with a sigh, hiccuped a giggle, then started again. Then she said, “You’re too much.”

  “Sexy and dangerous Daniel Galindo.”

  “Well—” She put down her mug and leaned over laughing, then wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. Looked at him and bit her lower lip.

  He smiled at her. “Thank you, Elaine.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just … this whole night has been crazy.” She let out a breath, then frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “It just hit me. All these years I’ve known you, I never told you how pretty you are.”

  “Oh, please.” She darted a glance toward the heavens. Her lashes cast a faint shadow across her cheek.

  Dan leaned over and kissed her. Then put his arm around her and did it again. The fleecy jacket was soft and warm.

  She drew back. “Oh, my God.”

  He looked at her. “That’s so reassuring.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant … No, you’re very attractive, Dan. I’ve always thought so. And … I like being with you, but please. After a total disaster with a married man, I can’t do that anymore. I won’t.”

  “Elaine—” H
e took her hand. “I’m not going back to Lisa.”

  “You said you were.”

  “Well … I’m not.” He kissed her knuckles.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. She’s just not the kind of woman who would drag me onto a dance floor in a crowded bar and embarrass me by asking the band to play ‘Happy Birthday.’”

  “I see. And that’s what you want?”

  He stood and pulled her up off the seat. She didn’t object. Dan kissed her forehead, then moved his nose slowly through her hair, taking in the clean, fresh scent of it. He felt the blood surge through his body so fast it took his breath. That useless pounding with Lisa. Trying to make something that wasn’t.

  He kissed each corner of Elaine’s mouth, then nudged her lips apart and slid his tongue inside. She welcomed him eagerly and moved her hands down his back to pull his hips tightly against her. No, he decided, there wouldn’t be any problem here.

  CHAPTER 36

  Setting up Manatee Studios, the DEA had built a new control room, the original too cramped to hold the sophisticated recording equipment Rick Robbins had demanded. He had wanted top quality for the Mayhem demo tape. The DEA had eaten the cost.

  Now, at two-thirty on Sunday afternoon, Vincent Hooper stood in the middle of a space quickly being reduced to bare concrete and two-by-fours. The sound engineer and his men were loading the equipment on dollies to take back to wherever they had rented it from. Vincent would have to write up a report on all this. How much money spent, and the result of the expenditures. The result, in this case, being nothing. Not precisely zero, because they had netted Rick Robbins. Thinking about Robbins, with his fruit-flavored Turns, his nervous laughter, and his rumpled tweed jacket, Vincent preferred a perfect zero.

  At 11:54, a few minutes early, he had arrived at Venezia, a trendy hangout for the pasta-and-merlot crowd on Las Olas Avenue in downtown Fort Lauderdale. Vincent had dressed in his Victor Ramirez outfit of silk jacket, pleated slacks, and gold jewelry. His briefcase contained $200,000 in cash, with the rest of it—supposedly—in the trunk of a Porsche Turbo-Carrera behind the restaurant. He had a body mike. There were six DEA agents and four Broward County deputies ready to make an arrest.