We piled back into the truck and headed for the second address.
Heidi Reker’s place was in a nicely kept, four-story brick apartment building. The lobby was spotless and smelled of cleaning stuff and carpet glue. A list of apartment dwellers was posted behind glass on the wall next to a call box. I buzzed the only Reker on that list. An annoying boinging sound as the thing attempted to connect echoed around the enclosed space. There was no response. Damn. I really didn’t want this to be an 0-for-2 blowout.
Disappointed, we headed out the foyer to the truck. I pressed the key fob to unlock the doors, and the headlights flashed on. They momentarily illuminated a shadowy figure that had just rounded the sidewalk at the end of the block. The person jogged toward us, the silhouette of a dog trotting at their side. When the jogger came into the glow cast by a nearby streetlamp, the shape coalesced into that of a woman dressed in a light-colored sweatshirt and tight running pants.
I was about to step off the curb and get in the truck when the gal turned off the sidewalk and headed for the door to the complex we’d just exited.
Coop saw her too. He called, “Heidi? Heidi Reker?” Fat chance it’d be her.
The woman turned around. Her dog remained glued to her side. Now that they were closer, I could see the pooch was a German shepherd.
“Yeah,” she said warily, “I’m Reker. Who’re you?” Her face was fine-boned, and her dark hair was tied back. Loose strands stuck to her damp skin and intelligent, curious eyes assessed us.
The dog sat on his haunches as soon as Ms. Reker stopped moving. He, or I guess it could be a she, waited quietly at her side. The dog appeared keenly alert, ready to take action if needed. Heidi rested a calming hand on the pooch’s head.
Well, I’ll be switched. Something was actually going to go smoo-
ther than expected. I said, “I’m Shay O’Hanlon, and”—I poked my thumb at Coop—“that’s Nick Cooper, but he gets ornery if you call him Nick, so he goes by Coop.”
“What can I do for you?”
Oh man, where did we begin? I said, “Do you know JT Bor-
deaux?”
“JT Bordeaux? Yeah. Why?”
As soon as I uttered JT’s name, I could feel the woman’s walls slam up. It was probably best to simply lay the truth on her. “I’m JT’s girlfriend. She’s in serious trouble, and we need help.”
Heidi blinked. Her demeanor softened, although she remained cautious. “I heard JT had hooked up with someone. So you’re the lucky girl, huh?” She looked me up and down once, then returned her eyes to my face. “What kind of scrape did JT get herself into this time?”
I said, “It’s a long story. We need to ask you about—” I glanced at Coop, who gave me a blank look. Sometimes his brand of assistance didn’t match what I thought I needed. “About a sensitive situation that JT’s managed to get tangled up in. Can we come inside? I think it’d be better if we didn’t conduct this discussion out here.”
Heidi apparently decided we weren’t a threat. She said, “What do you think, Radar, should we let these two come in?”
Radar gave a low woof, eyes glued to us.
“Is he friendly?” I asked.
“If you’re a friend, he’s friendly. If not, he’ll kick your ass. And he’s got sharp teeth.”
I held out my hand. The dog sniffed my offering, his wet, quivering nose nudging my fingers. Then he gently touched the tip of his tongue to my skin. I tentatively passed muster.
Coop followed my lead. Radar pretty much bypassed the sniffing part and dove right into “oh please pet me” mode. Dogs could somehow tell Coop had a kind, gentle soul. He could probably be the next Dog Whisperer when Cesar Millan decided to retire.
Thus vetted, we followed Heidi and Radar through the front door and up well-worn stairs to the second floor. Hers was the second door on the left. She unlocked it and let us inside. We followed her through a short hall and made a right turn into a combined kitchen/dining/living room.
Immediately, one thing became very clear: Heidi Reker was a Smurfs freak. Posters starring the white-hatted, blue-bodied gnomeish beings lined her walls. Shelves were filled with Smurf figurines and plush Smurf toys. Even Gargamel was represented, both on a framed poster and as a stuffed toy. A throw populated with Smurfs was tossed over the back of her couch.
Coop’s eyes grew wide as he took it all in.
Heidi watched us look around. “I confess I’m a blue-blooded Smurfaholic. Have a seat and let me get out of these sweaty clothes. Radar, you stay and keep these nice folks company.” With that directive given, Heidi disappeared down the hallway. Radar strolled across the room and plodded directly to Coop, who lowered himself to the couch and gave the mutt some attention.
I remained standing and crossed my arms, watching them with amusement. “He knows who the pushover is.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re just jealous because he can see my warm, tender heart.”
There wasn’t much to come back to that with. Coop was absolutely right.
A freestanding shelving unit divided the kitchen from the living room. One single shelf was devoid of anything Smurf-related. Instead, framed photos were lined up with military precision. One of the pictures was a group shot of maybe twenty people, all wearing the blue and black uniform of a Minneapolis police academy recruit. JT was standing next to Heidi, who actually looked the same as she did now. Her arm was draped over Heidi’s shoulder in a friendly fashion, and the entire squad beamed for the camera.
One recruit in particular wasn’t smiling, and in fact didn’t look pleased at all. The glare on his face sent a shiver down my spine. I realized I’d seen that same face and same scowl earlier today. It was Clint Roberts. I wondered what had happened to him to make him such a hard ass jerk.
Heidi reentered the living room and pulled me out of my rumination on the mysteries of Roberts’s psyche. She’d changed into a pair of sweats and what else but a Smurfs T-shirt. I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Heidi was probably thrilled to pieces when they released that new Smurfs movie awhile back.
She asked, “Can I get either of you something to drink?”
Both Coop and I politely declined, and I moved to sit on the couch next to Coop.
Heidi settled on the edge of a recliner. Radar bailed on Coop, padded over, and settled down at Heidi’s side. She reached over the arm of the chair and absently rubbed the top of the dog’s head. “So what is this about?”
I wasn’t sure exactly where to start. If Heidi were in the same position that Tyrell had been, she would have absolutely no idea that JT was in custody on suspicion of murder, or homicide, or whatever the authorities called it. I really didn’t want to repeat any of this stupid tale again. In fact, I just wanted to snuggle into bed with JT and gleefully stick my cold feet on her warm legs. I wanted to wake up to a new day with none of this hovering over our heads.
Unfortunately life wasn’t that cooperative. I heaved a resigned sigh, then recounted for Heidi the events of the craziest Saturday I may have ever had. She listened with rapt attention. When I related the details about JT’s arrest and told her the name of the arresting officer, she literally hissed air in between her teeth.
“That bastard. I can’t believe he still has it out for JT after all this time.” Heidi stared blankly into space, apparently ruminating over the bad history JT shared with Clint Roberts. After a couple of seconds, she zeroed back into the present. “What happened after Roberts took her away?”
Coop and I recounted the zigzagging path we’d followed throughout the day. When I got to the part about JT’s grandfather confusing me with someone named Peaches, a woman JT had apparently attended the academy with, she laughed. “I can’t believe he remembers that after all this time.”
Ah ha. We really did find Peaches.
I couldn’t help but ask, “Was your nickname Peaches, or was it just a nickname he used?�
�
“Nickname. I’ve had it since I was a kid. Everyone in my family, even to this day, calls me Peaches, and my twin sister, Christina, Cream.” She rolled her eyes. “Peaches and Cream. Sad, isn’t it? No amount of threatening anyone made a damn bit of difference. At least Peaches is way better than being called Cream. My poor sister.”
Poor sister indeed. I was sort of right about Peaches and Cream, and I’d been joking.
“So why does Detective Roberts have it out for JT?” I asked. “What did she ever do to him?”
“Oh God. That was such a mess.” Heidi sighed.
This wasn’t going to be good.
“It all started when we were at the academy. Roberts was bull-headed right from the get-go. He was an opinionated misogynist who felt—probably still feels—that anyone without a dick has no place in law enforcement. All of the women in our class butted heads with him. He’s just lucky no one decided to use him for a target during firearms drills.”
Coop asked, “So did he have the same animosity toward all of the recruits that he has toward JT?”
“As I said, he didn’t like any of the women, but JT in particular tripped something in his itty-bitty brain. JT scored at the top of the class, neck and neck with the bas—with Roberts—every step of the way. He couldn’t fathom a mere girl challenging him at anything. When someone came along who was actually better than he was at more than one thing and who didn’t have a penis, well, he popped his cork.
“The instructors yanked him out of class more than once over his behavior. I hoped—we all hoped—he’d get booted, but somehow he managed to hang in there, no matter what crap he laid on the rest of us.” With eyes squinted almost shut in memory, Heidi continued. “Rumors were always flying among us as to why Roberts didn’t get the heave-ho. They ran the gamut. From him being related to one of the brass, or that maybe he managed to bribe his way in—man, he could find out secrets and make life a living hell for whoever he targeted.”
Heidi paused, measuring her words. “In fact, his behavior was exactly that of a schoolyard bully. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s still a cop. I was sure that by now he would’ve done something to someone that would have gotten him fired, or worse.”
No doubt about it, the man was straight-up bad news.
“Back to JT,” I said gently, trying to pull Heidi out of her memories. “That was awhile back. Wouldn’t he have let things go by now? Well, obviously he hasn’t. But why?”
“As class went on, animosity between JT and Roberts grew every day. When we graduated, she’d aced him out of the top spot. It was a come-from-behind thing. Believe me, he wasn’t happy playing second fiddle to anyone. You know, come to think of it, I believe he began to truly hate JT after she wiped the course with his ass when we were in St. Cloud learning how to PIT, which was right toward the end of the academy.”
“Pit?” I’d heard JT talk about a lot of police stuff, but I didn’t recall hearing about any pit. It sounded like what was left after eating certain fruits and veggies.
Coop shocked the hell out of me by explaining. “Pursuit Intervention Technique, I think. P-I-T.”
I glanced at him, impressed and more than a little puzzled as to why he’d know that. He caught my look and tapped his noggin with a knuckle. “I have more useless trivia up here than you’d ever expect.”
Heidi gave him a nod. “I guess you do. It’s a technique that, under the right conditions, we can use to stop a fleeing vehicle. JT, as usual, mastered the how-to in no time flat. She somehow managed to find herself partnered up with Roberts for the hands-on driving portion on the second day. Let me tell you, it wasn’t by choice. She avoided that man like a plague of killer wasps. By the end of day two, their relationship shifted from barely tolerant to outright hatred. I don’t know what was said in that car while they ran the course, but something had to have been.
“Afterward, I asked her what happened. Numerous times. But she just shut her trap. After awhile I just quit trying.”
Poor JT. To be stuck in a tiny space with someone she couldn’t stand would’ve seriously sucked.
“So,” I asked, “what happened after you guys graduated?”
“We hit the road with field training officers. Eventually some of the guys moved into other areas within the Minneapolis police department. JT went into sex crimes. I did a stint with mounted patrol then wound up in backgrounds and SWAT hostage negotiations. A few of the guys left for other agencies. Roberts wanted a promotion, but no one was willing to give him one in the MPD. Probably because he was riddled with use-of-force complaints. He bailed to the burbs, and from what I heard, cleaned up his act enough to get promoted to detective.”
I said, “So then at least he was out of JT’s hair.”
“He was until the blowout with Russ Krasski.” Heidi sighed. “After that, he dogged her again. Talking shit. The cities are big, but this burg is a pretty damn small place when it comes to that kind of thing.”
Coop asked, “Did JT ever talk about that night? About what happened with Krasski?”
Heidi considered that. “After I heard what happened, I called her. We met at a coffee shop in Uptown. That Alice in Wonderland one.”
I bit down a wry grin. “The Rabbit Hole.”
“Yeah. That’s the place. I don’t often get over there, but the coffee’s good.”
That was nice to hear. I considered telling her I owned the joint, but it wasn’t pertinent to this conversation. There was a fair chance I’d worked the day that JT and Heidi met, and I would’ve been completely oblivious. It was an unsettling feeling.
Heidi said, “JT was wrecked. Who wouldn’t have been? She singlehandedly screwed up a case they’d been working on for a really long time. The only saving grace—well, I guess you could call it more than one saving grace—was that all of Krasski’s cronies who were there at the time were taken down. But JT was furious with herself for losing it.”
Coop asked, “Did she tell you what Krasski said to her that set her off?”
Heidi was quiet a long moment. “She would never tell me specifically what he said, only that it was so—what was the word JT used? Reprehensible, that was it—so reprehensible and disgusting that she just snapped.” Heidi pinned her eyes on mine and stared directly into my heart. “JT was a good cop then. She’s a good cop now. Yeah, she might’ve lost her mind, but that monster got what was coming to him. It’s just too bad the beat-down didn’t happen in prison at the hands of some child-molester-hating murderer.”
Poor JT. She bore all of this without ever even giving me a hint that she was carrying around this kind of pain. That just sucked. It hurt more than I expected, actually. But I understood as best I could without actually hearing the details from the woman herself.
Lord knew I had my own share of uncontrolled anger. There were times I had to work really hard to keep myself in check. I intimately knew blinding, red-that-actually-tinted-your-vision rage that could boil up in an instant under the right conditions. But that was me. I absolutely had no idea this kind of thing had ever happened to JT. She worked so very hard to remain cool, calm, and collected, even in the place most people figuratively and literally bared and shared it all—the bedroom. Now for the first time, I guess I really comprehended why. She and I had more in common than I thought, but it was totally disconcerting to have it revealed to me in quite this way.
We thanked Heidi for her time. Once we piled back in the pickup, I started the engine but left the truck idling at the curb. The impact of what we’d just learned about someone I loved, and loved even more intensely the more I heard, rattled me. It wasn’t that I felt JT had failed in any way, but that she’d had to go through this by herself.
Well, she damn well wasn’t alone anymore. She finally had someone on her side, someone who’d been there, who totally understood and got where she was coming from. She and I could only hope we didn’t turn thi
s—I wasn’t even sure what to call it—this rage of conviction, for want of a better phrase, on each other or we’d be toast. The one thing that still got me was that she’d shielded such a huge, painful part of herself from me, and from the rest of the world, simply so she could continue to function.
It all boiled down to secrets. JT obviously had hers, and I suppose I did too. I rarely looked too deeply inside myself, didn’t take much time to consider my own deepest feelings. It was too scary in that place. It was much easier to let the Tenacious Protector take care of the things that I couldn’t deal with.
I imagined it was easier for JT to remain solidly in control, concentrating on whatever needed her attention so she wouldn’t have to consider the demons that had pitched their own tents inside her. If she delved too much, the monsters would be unleashed with a vengeance, and the control she so carefully cultivated would melt like a grape Popsicle on a late-July day.
I leaned back in the seat and pressed my head against the headrest. I didn’t need to get myself all bogged down. JT needed me, and I was going to be there for her. Warmth spread through my chest the way the first sip of something hot on a frigid winter’s evening flowed through your veins after you’d frozen your ass off outside. Maybe this is what love really was all about. But hell, it was confusing.
Coop said quietly, “You okay?”
It was a good thing my friend was a patient man. I had no idea how long I’d sat immobile in the driver’s seat contemplating secrets, tempers, and Minnesota weather metaphors. I didn’t often do a whole lot of self-analysis, and when I did, it tended to freak me out. In this instance, my inner assessment solidified what I was—what we were, actually—working toward. It was time to get serious about tracking down a murderer, even if he had offed someone who should’ve been deep-sixed a long time ago, and bring JT’s butt back home where it belonged. That was priority number one.
I shot Coop a steady glance, newfound resolve steeling my words. “It’s time to kick some serious ass.”
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Shay O'Hanlon Caper 03 - Pickle in the Middle Murder Page 13